Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
I remember how I looked up and the sun was far off in the distance, but still in the sky. Didn’t they know we still had time to play? I’m younger than most of the kids, only twelve, but even the older ones usually play with me.
I sat on the swings for a while. I remember that. As the pounding in my head throbs harder I remember how the metal chains twisted and I let myself twirl on the swings over and over. I could wait for the other kids. I was sure they’d show up.
Did they?
I squint, trying to remember and I turn my head. My palms brush against the concrete floor, my cheek flat against the hard floor.
There was a man. He had a golf club and he needed my help. I remember how lost he looked. He said he hit his last ball into the trees and he couldn’t reach into the bushes.
My heartbeat quickens as I remember, and my body goes still.
I knew to tell him a lie. I knew to turn around and run when he tried to take my hand in his. But he looked so hurt when I tried to pull away. He was genuinely upset, and all he did was ask me to help him.
The thin branches cracked under my sneakers as I went into the woods, following him to where he thought the ball had landed.
I open my eyes and I can’t breathe.
He lied to me. My nails scratch on the ground as I clench them into fists and slowly look up.
No! Mommy, help me! Tears blur my vision of the cinder block walls.
No! This can’t be happening. I pull my knees into my chest and try to stand.
Why does my head hurt so much?
“Are you okay?” a soft voice asks from behind me, encouraging me as I shuffle across the ground and push myself against the cold wall. It takes a moment for me to wipe my eyes and see him.
He’s just a boy.
His knees are knobby and he’s thin, but his shoulders are broad and he has a look about him that lets me know he’s older than me. There’s another look about him, too.
Sorrow and sadness cloud his eyes. Or maybe I just imagined it, because the moment my vision focuses, a hard expression stares back at me. He doesn’t move from where he is, crouching only a few feet from me.
“Where am I?” I ask him quickly. I don’t know where the words come from. I feel hot and cold, and I’m so confused. “I want to leave.”
He huffs and shakes his head at me, pushing himself up from the ground where he was and takes a step toward me. He’s taller than me. In that moment, he scares me.
“You can’t leave,” he says simply.
My face crumples, and I shake my head. “My mother will-”
“We’re stuck here!” he yells at me, the anger in his voice making me flinch. He stares at the wall behind me, his eyes flickering to the floor then back to me. “We can’t leave.”
As I start to protest, I hear a loud rough bark outside. It’s followed by a series of vicious barks that continue over and over. I whirl around and face the only window. It’s small and rectangular, covered in filth and high up on the wall. There’s barely any light coming through. Maybe there’s a bush planted in front of it. I’m not sure, but at the very least I know there are dogs close.
“Don’t try to run,” the boy says behind me and again I turn to face him. Threats all around me, and it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. So stupid! I wrap my arms around my shoulders. “My mother-”
“Stop.” The boy gives me the command, and I do. I stop because I’m a good girl. I’ve always been a good girl, but look at where it’s gotten me.
It’s quiet for a while, and the boy takes another step closer to me. I don’t move. I don’t know what to do or where I am, but deep down inside I know this boy isn’t going to hurt me. There’s something about him. Something broken and scared and angry even, but it’s pure.
“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask him weakly.
“He won’t touch you. It’s not about you.”
“What?” I don’t understand. I’m so confused.
“He’s using you.” He looks past me, anger evident as he clenches his jaw. “It’s about making me do what he wants. He knows I won’t...” his voice drifts off, and the anger changes into something else. Something I can’t see because he turns his back to me.
I reach out to him, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving me, moving purely out of instinct. The touch feels like a spark. As if I’ve put my hand to a flame, but before I can even process it, he whips back around to face me, a scowl of anger on his face as he stares at me. “I won’t let him hurt you like he does me. All you are is a tool for him to use against me.”