Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I never expected the power I would feel in that. Maybe it doesn’t make sense to feel powerful that someone else is making decisions for you, but again, knowing that he can only do it because I grant him the control changes everything for me. As a child, I had no say; now, even when I’m listening to what Colton tells me to do, I still have a say. There’s something electrifying about that. It frees me from the bounds I’ve been in my whole life.
I always thought it was just the sex that I liked about this lifestyle, but though I like the sex, this feeds me in a different way.
But I do miss the sex. Sir hasn’t let me come yet, and it’s killing me, something I think he enjoys.
We continue the way we have all week. Like the first night, Sir calls and talks to me about my day and about Nash and Sadie. I grumble that Nash still won’t make his bed, and how frustrating the silence from him can be. Colton tells me about his days too, and I’m even more convinced there’s something going on between him and Hannah. Or at least, that he has feelings for her. I try not to think about it, try to tell myself it doesn’t matter because that’s not why I’m doing this, but the fact that I have to keep saying it to myself isn’t a good sign.
The one thing weighing on me all week is I can’t think of something to do for myself. Every idea feels silly, like a waste of time. What do I even like? How sad is it that I have to ask myself that question. What are my hobbies? I don’t have any, but I must have had them in the past, right?
It’s Sunday before I can think of anything. When I was little and Sandra would be on one of her rampages or I needed to be alone, I would go for a walk. It’s just a small thing to do, but I’d needed out of the house, needed to breathe in fresh air, and I would walk around the neighborhood and make up stories for myself: I had a mother and father at home who loved me; I was walking to my friend’s house to hang out—and later that changed to a boyfriend’s house; someone would come and take me away; I’d find out she wasn’t my mom and I really belonged somewhere else; my dad was the president or an astronaut who didn’t know about me, but once he found out, he would come and save me. A kid’s dreams, really, and none of them ever came true, but they provided the reprieve I longed for.
So that’s what I do. I go for a walk and make up stories: Sadie, Nash, and I are closer; we’ve known each other our whole lives; I’m not awkward around people, or closed off, and let people get close; my past isn’t my past, and my siblings and I never went through the things we did. I just keep walking and telling myself stories until I’m walking by a store and see a basketball in the window display.
It’s been almost a week since Sadie told me that Nash likes basketball, yet I haven’t done anything about it. So without letting myself overthink it, I go into the store. I find a basketball, then go to the art section and pick out a nice sketchbook and pencils for Sadie.
When I get back to the apartment, I don’t see either of them in the main rooms. There’s an unexpected twist in my stomach as I head for their room, dread making me second-guess myself.
The door is ajar, and I see them, each on their own bed, laughing about something…something I’m not a part of because to them I’m not their brother, I’m just another adult in their lives who has let them down. That’s not who I want to be to them, but I don’t know if I have the right to hope for anything else.
I knock on the door, then push it open a little more. “I got something for you both.” I hand Sadie the art supplies first, then walk over to Nash with the basketball.
His brows draw together, Nash looking at the ball as if it’s a foreign object. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I just saw them and bought them.” It’s not as if this is the first thing I’ve bought for them, but then, most of those were necessities, weren’t they? This is different. This is personal.
Nash doesn’t take his gaze off me as he plucks the ball from my hands.
“Thank you,” Sadie says from behind me. “These are really cool.”
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, turning her way. I don’t expect anything from Nash, and honestly, I’m okay with that. I know what it’s like to be that angry at the world because I was at his age too. “I’ll make dinner in a little while,” I tell them, then slip from the room, closing the door behind me.