Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
I stormed out of my room and told him to shut his nasty mouth because the only reason she doesn’t work is because he won’t let her.
He smacked me right across the face so hard he busted my lip.
I was just trying to protect her—to take up for her—since apparently she’s lost her voice. But Mama sent me straight to bed without an ounce of concern for the blood pouring from my mouth like a freaking waterfall.
I know last week I said I was worried I might start hating her too… but tonight made me realize something. I can’t hate my mom. Even if I want to—and I really, really want to—I can’t.
I’m not trying to make excuses for her, but while waiting for the bleeding to stop, I realized something: losing Dad broke her.
Not in the same way it did me. Dad dying cracked me. It made me sad in a way I don’t know how to bounce back from, but it shattered Mama, and even though her pieces are glued back together, she’s weak now. Fragile.
So, no, I don’t hate her. But I don’t really like her either.
Why am I not enough for her? Why am I, her living and breathing daughter, not enough? I don’t have an answer, and I’m not sure there’s any reason she could give that would allow me to forgive her for essentially abandoning me.
Resentfully, Nora
CHAPTER 5
ATLAS
My pulse pounds in my ears, keeping time with the frenetic rhythm of my heart, as I fly down my dad’s long driveway.
Disbelief, disgust, and a heaping serving of guilt all sit heavy on my shoulders, pressing down on me, their combined weight impairing my ability to think rationally.
My focus is a pinprick. Finding Nora is the only thing that matters. But where is she? Did he take her with him when he went wherever he’s at?
“His hunting cabin!” I jerk the wheel hard to the right, fishtailing out onto the main road. Tires screech and horns blare, but I can’t stop.
There’s a running loop in my brain saying, find her, save her, fix this, over and over again and I’m helpless but to listen.
Maybe if I’d have listened to that part of myself years ago this would’ve never happened. Maybe if I’d have voiced my concerns and suspicions when my mom died, Nora would be far, far away from the monster my dad is.
Denial has never served anyone well.
My thoughts spiral in a chaotic loop as I fly toward the cabin. What if he’s there? What if he has her there? What if she’s hurt? Or worse?
I’m not sure what to expect, much less how to prepare myself for the confrontation that may be to come, but there’s one thing I know beyond a shadow of a doubt—if she’s there with him and even a single hair on her head is harmed, I won’t hesitate to put him down like the rabid dog he is.
What kind of man hurts a woman—a child? The question burns through me like acid in my veins.
But the one that follows is worse: what kind of man keeps his suspicions to himself for years?
Who’s the real monster, him or me? Could I have prevented this if I’d have spoken up all those years ago?
“Fuck!” I pound my fist against the wheel, causing it to jerk in my grip. Briefly, my tires leave the road, but I’m able to get the truck back under my control before any real damage can be done.
“What-ifs won’t solve anything,” I mutter to myself as I turn down the unmarked road that leads to our hunting plot. “Just focus on the here and now. Figure out what needs to happen and handle that shit.”
I hold my breath as the cabin comes into view, only to let out a disappointed exhale when his SUV’s nowhere to be seen.
Still, I throw my truck into park and hop out to take a look around.
On silent feet, I creep around the rickety structure, listening and watching for any signs of life. But everything is silent and still.
If the layer of dust covering the windows is anything to go by, no one has been here in a while. But if I know anything, it’s that looks can be deceiving.
Which means I won’t be able to let this go until I check out the inside of the cabin—until I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s not here, chained up, or worse.
I try the front door first, but it’s locked up tight. Defeat presses in on me from all sides. I don’t know where my dad is, I don’t know where Nora is, and because I spent the last three years with my head up my ass, I don’t have the slightest idea of where to look.
“Oh, shit!” I hop down from the small porch and scramble around to the back of the cabin. To the best of my knowledge, the back door doesn’t have a deadbolt. Or at least it didn’t the last time I was here.