Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Not just Tiana and Kellen and everybody else at that vile school. Life in general. Finding reasons to keep going with life was hard enough to begin with. Living without Jason, my only ally, my only friend.
It would be so much easier to give up. Nobody could blame me. If they did, I wouldn’t be here to listen to it, anyway. I find it hard to believe hell could be any worse than what I’m living through, anyway, so I’m not worried about all the things I was taught growing up.
I think they did it. I think they finally broke me for good.
I wonder if he would be sorry. Kellen, the guy whose cum still lingers on my tongue. The thought makes me gag and lift my head, mouth open, so some of the water raining down on me can fill my mouth. I don’t care that it’s hot. If anything, that’s better than cold. It makes me feel a little cleaner as I rinse out and spit again and again. I can’t imagine being cruel enough to take a situation like this and use it the way he did. He must have been in on it, or else how would he know where to find me? It’s not like he was surprised, not like he demanded to know how I ended up there. All he did was make sure I knew he was doing me a favor. Was I supposed to weep and thank him? Does he think he’s a big hero now? I wouldn’t be surprised.
But he did come back and get me. He gave me his sweater to wear, and he drove me home. He even turned the heat on to make me more comfortable.
No, he does not deserve praise.
But he did save me.
And even though the price was letting him come down my throat, he was… gentle. Tender. Touching my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away my tears.
I didn’t know what to think about it then, and I still don’t, sitting here on the shower floor until the water doesn’t feel hot anymore. I’ve been in here that long.
My fingers are starting to prune by the time I pull myself together enough to sit up straight and heave a deep sigh. I’m absolutely drained, hollowed out, having gone through every emotion imaginable since I ended up in that closet. I feel like I’ve aged a decade as I force myself to my feet and go through the motions of washing up.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seriously considered giving up, ending it all, but it might be the closest I’ve ever come to making it happen. I guess I’m too stubborn, or maybe I’m just scared. Either way, by the time I’m finished and have turned off the water, I’m determined to get through this somehow. For all I know, they’ll end up killing me trying to top their evil little prank the next time they get bored and want to hurt me.
But I won’t be the one who makes it happen. I won’t let them break my spirit like that. They don’t deserve it.
It is such a relief to get dressed once I’m dried off. To dry my hair, to let the warm air hit my skin after hours spent shivering and cold and aching. Meeting my gaze in the mirror over my dresser, I can’t help thinking back on the way he wanted me to look up at him when he finished. There’s a weird sensation in my chest when I remember locking eyes with him. It was like we connected in that moment, as sick and twisted as the idea is. It could’ve been a lot worse—I know that. I expected it to be as soon as I saw it was him who had come to free me.
But my jaw tightens, and my eyes narrow, and I remind myself who he is. I can’t forget all of the harm he’s done. He doesn’t get a pass just because he had an attack of conscience.
A knock at the bedroom door makes me jump and turn off the dryer. “Are you ready?” It’s Dad, and no big surprise, he sounds impatient. “Come on, we need to get to the store.”
I wonder what he would’ve done if I never came home today. He probably would have looked for me, but only because I didn’t show up for my shift. I don’t know why it is so important that he never find out what’s going on at school. I guess I don’t want to worry him and Mom when they have already been through so much over Jason. I don’t want to admit I can’t handle things on my own, either. That has a lot to do with it.
“I’ll be right there,” I call out, running a brush through my hair, wondering how he would react if he knew that just an hour ago, I was waking up on a freezing cold, filthy floor, wearing nothing but my underwear.