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)
He opens the first and closes it quickly. “Why’d you stop coming? Is that in here?”
I shake my head. It’s not. I can’t even look him in the eye.
He opens it back up.
I don’t know what he’ll find. I can’t remember what I said when I wrote to him, but I remember how I felt. I confided in those pages because it was the only way to keep surviving without him. The notebooks would hold my emotions and I’d be able to go about my life.
Every night, I wrote something down about Cill that I missed, or something I wanted him to know.
It was the only way to keep him from haunting my dreams. I had sound nights and even dreams sometimes when I wrote to him. If I forgot, I’d wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare. I know that sounds crazy. It’s true. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him that, because I know it sounds ridiculous.
I can’t help reading them upside down as Cill skims the entries. I never truly thought I’d get to experience this moment. There was always a chance I wouldn’t see his eyes moving over the page and his hands holding the edges of the notebook so carefully.
* * *
Sept 5
* * *
We went to get our palms read today and I remember the groove on your palm that’s split. You remember how I showed you that one time? When Missy showed me how to do palm readings? I think you might have believed her, even if you pretended to be skeptical. I miss her. I miss the club. I miss you the most and I was thinking about that groove. She said that when the lifeline groove is split it means there’s going to be an uncertain time. Do you remember that? Do you think that’s what this is? It’s only a moment that’s uncertain? ’Cause if it is, I’m ready for it to end, Cill. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. I don’t know how to make it right, though. I wish I could hold your hand right now. I hope you feel it. Even if I’m too fucking chickenshit to call you or go to you … I hope you can feel me holding your hand. I love you.
* * *
Sept 6
* * *
Today was really hard. I think it’s my karma. I deserve it. If I’m honest with you, I’m really struggling and I’m lonely and I don’t really know what to do, Cill. I didn’t get the job at Mac’s Hardware. I don’t know where else to apply. I don’t know what to do, and I want to call you so damn bad, because I know you’d know. You always know, Cill. But if I hear your voice … I just can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I’m too damn sad all the time. Can’t we just go back? I wish we could just go back and we’d never gone to the club that night. I wish the car had broken down. I wish a storm had flooded the street.
I hate the club. I hate what they did to you. I hate my father. I hate them all. All but you and Reed.
My eyes are ripped from the page as Cill speaks and closes the notebook. It’s only then that I realize the emotion in his gaze.
“They should have taken care of you.” His voice is deathly low.
Before I can even speak, the breath stolen from my lungs, he continues, “I went away, taking the fall for them and they knew who you were to me.”
“Cill—” I start to argue that they did in a way. For a moment they pretended at least, but he cuts me off.
“No, you weren’t okay and where the fuck were they?”
“Reed was—” I swallow the words and instead place both palms on Cill's chest as he drops the notebooks to the counter. It takes everything I have to steady my breathing.
“We’ll go,” Cill states. “The two of us.”
“What?” I whisper.
“The clubhouse. It’s time for you to go back.”
“Things changed when you went away.” My voice shakes a little. Lots of things have changed. One that’s irrefutable is that I left that world. I don’t belong there anymore.
“I said we’re going.”
“Cill—” Anxiousness overwhelms me. “I don’t—”
“Do you work today?” he questions.
“No.” I shake my head with the whispered word.
“Good,” he says with finality, tapping the notebooks on the counter once before turning his back to me and heading toward the stairs, both books still firmly in his grip. “Get dressed. We’re going.”
Cillian
Which happened first, she left me or the club left her to fend for herself?
My text goes unanswered. Reed saw it, though; it’s marked as seen. He’s my best friend. Betrayal ran deep during the drive over as I constantly checked to be sure he hadn’t responded. I grew up in the life of loyalty and family.