Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
She blinked, her smile melting into memory. “Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded breathy. “Yes, I remember.”
Their eyes met and held, and there was something there, but Sam didn’t know what to call it. He felt it though. It had weight. Whatever it was felt crushing in a way nothing ever had. It felt both heavy and like it might float from his grasp if he tried to hold on too tight.
“It was the last time I felt human,” he said, pressing his lips together after he said it. He didn’t know why he’d admitted such a thing except that it was true, and he’d be leaving soon anyway. He had nothing to give her. He’d only taken—stolen—but it felt like something to tell her she’d made him feel human once. She’d given him hope for the first and the last time in his miserable life.
“You asked me that when you were mostly unconscious,” she said. “You asked me to tell you that you’re human. Why don’t you feel human, Sam? Is it because of the surgeries?”
He shrugged. Maybe it was mostly to do with the metal under his skin or the fact that he’d been built by doctors, but he felt it more deeply than that sometimes too, and he wasn’t sure why. “What do you think makes a person human?” he asked her.
She chewed on the tip of the pen, and the sight of her pink tongue made a spark of arousal light inside him. He let himself enjoy it, just for a moment, before he breathed it away. She was quiet for quite a long time as though she was thinking very hard about how to answer his question. It made him feel important in a way he’d never felt before. Especially because it was her, and he knew he would love the words she said even before she said them.
“I think a better question is, what feels true?”
He hadn’t expected that answer. He wrinkled his brow, confused. “True?”
“Yes. Because only things that are true satisfy the human soul.”
“Truth hurts sometimes,” he said. More often than not from my experience.
“Yes. But it’s better to know, because then you can base your decisions on truth instead of lies. And then you have a chance at peace, because what is untrue feels jarring and abrasive. It doesn’t ever quite settle, no matter how hard you try to swallow it down. It keeps you in a constant state of agitation. So you have to search for that which is true, because those are the things that make your soul sing. And when your soul sings, you know without a doubt that you’re human.”
“My soul doesn’t sing,” he said dejectedly. The only sound he’d ever heard rising inside him had been the howl of a beast.
But she smiled, and it was soft. “Sure it does. Maybe you haven’t been listening.”
He paused, considering her for a moment. She was his truth. His North Star. The only thing he’d ever counted on to lead him to places that felt good and right. And she was even more beautiful—her skin and her soul—than he’d realized. How was that even possible? “Is that why you keep searching? For the truth about your past?” Even though it hurts? Even though it’d be easier to let it go?
She looked over at him and paused as though he’d surprised her with the question. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s exactly why.”
“Hello?”
The sound of a man’s deep voice startled Sam, and he stood quickly, moving his body in front of Autumn’s.
“It’s Bill,” she said, moving around Sam and heading for the back door that led inside the house. “Come on.”
Sam followed warily. Autumn had told him that her adoptive father, Bill, had retrieved the medical supplies for her and brought them to the cottage so she could help Sam. He’d also dropped off a phone, some food, and the clothes Sam was wearing when Sam had been unconscious. He seemed to be helping them, but still, Sam remained cautious. The man obviously cared for Autumn, and it wasn’t good for Autumn to be helping Sam. He knew that and wouldn’t blame her father if he reported Sam to get his daughter away from him.
Autumn was giving the man a hug as Sam stepped inside, and she quickly let go and stepped back. “Sam, this is Bill. Bill, Sam.” She looked sort of nervous but also excited, as though she was showing her father something she wasn’t sure he’d approve of but hoped he would.
Bill stepped forward; his forehead creased with worry. He held out his hand.
Sam knew what a handshake was of course. But he didn’t think anyone—not one single soul—had ever offered. He reached his hand out and took the other man’s in his.
“Sam,” Bill said very seriously. “I’m glad to see you looking well.”