Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Thought you could hide from me, Immy?”
“It’s Imogen!” My hands curled into fists by my side as I backed away from him, wondering if he was going to hit me, or pull my hair, or push me over. “Get out.”
“Not until you show me your panties.” He grinned and pushed his knotty hair from his face. It’s too long for a boy. Mee-maw said that Satan himself has long brown hair just like Kane and his daddy. “Bobby-Ray said you show him your panties all the time.”
“Bobby-Ray is a liar and God will punish him.”
“God ain’t real, Immy. Just like Santa.”
“Santa is too real!” I yelled, feeling my cheeks heat with that familiar anger that I only ever feel around him.
“No he ain’t,” he shouted back, grabbing my shoulders and squeezing with his skinny fingers. It hurt, it stayed sore for two whole days after. “Santa ain’t real, the Easter bunny ain’t real, your tooth fairy ain’t real and your momma is a whore that don’t love you!”
“Don’t talk about my momma.”
“You’re a dreamer, kid,” he snarled, shaking me so hard my head started pounding. “You’re a dreamer and nobody wants you. You’re shit. You ain’t gonna be shit! You gonna grow up to be a cock sucker just like your momma and nobody gonna love you!”
“KANE JESSUP!” Kane’s daddy boomed and Kane’s face went from snide to horrified in a second. “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”
“We were just playing,” Kane lied, turning immediately but his daddy already had his hand in his hair. He threw Kane from the room so hard Kane stumbled and collided with my grandpa who glared down at him like he was nothing but trash. He is trash. The stinkiest awfullest trash.
“I’m sorry, Regen, I’ll deal with my boy. Y’all know he’s been fucked up no thanks to that useless mother of his.”
I wanted to know why his momma was useless but I didn’t ask. I just moved to my grandpa and hugged his side.
“I didn’t do anything,” Kane cried, looking furious, and his daddy smacked him around the back of his head.
My grandpa and his daddy looked at each other before we all walked away. Kane gave me a hard stare as his daddy grabbed his collar and I knew I was in for it. I knew I was in for it big.
But I ain’t seen him until now. Haven’t. UGH. I need to speak proper or Mee-maw will make me bite soap.
He looks at me and sneers as Poppy fixes her light up headband that she just got from me for her birthday.
“Let’s skate,” she orders, holding out her hand to me and we go around and around, giggling and wobbling on the ice.
Kane, surprisingly, leaves me alone for the entire night.
If only the rest of my life could have been the same.
26 years old
“A speech fit for a funeral,” a familiar voice rasps as I click the button to unlock my car. My entire body burns with remembrance and hatred. He should be thankful I don’t have my gun on my person right now. “Show me your panties, Immy.”
I don’t turn, I don’t give him the satisfaction. I have spent too long already staring into those ocean blue eyes, losing myself in them and the array of emotions he often showed. Though only to me. His emotions were only ever mine.
I’ll not give him a second more. I can’t give him a second more.
“It’s like that is it?” he asks as I yank open my car door. “Ain’t seen you in years and you’re just gonna drive away?”
I climb into the driver’s seat, twist the key in the ignition and stare ahead as the expensive as shit engine purrs like a kitten. He has ahold of the door and he’s staring down at me. I can feel his gaze burning my profile like lasers. I can see his thick, shoulder-length hair framing his face. There’s never been a man who suits long hair better than he does.
We remain like this for the longest time, him staring at me, me staring ahead, car humming, door open, his arm resting casually along the top.
Finally he steps back, surprising me.
“Not gonna keep you pinned, babe. You wanna go, you go.”
I hate it when a lump rises in my throat, and I hate that he knows exactly what to say to make me want to stay.
With strength I’ve been gathering my entire life since meeting him, I pull the door closed and peel away, leaving tracks in the grass and earth.
I scream at the top of my lungs when I get far enough and hit the steering wheel with my palm three times until it feels bruised. I let it all out. What I’m letting out I’m not entirely sure. I’m trembling but I’m also numb. I don’t feel the pain I’m displaying in my outcry but I keep screaming until my voice is hoarse, I yank on the wheel until I feel it might break, only stopping when my phone rings bringing my senses back to me.