Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“Not much,” Michaela must be smiling, too. I can picture it like she’s right in front of me. “I was just thinking about you. We haven’t talked in a while. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I blurt out, my voice falsely high. Why? I am fine. “I’m doing great. Did something happen?”
“No,” Michaela says. “No, I just had a feeling that I should call you, so I picked up the phone. It’s funny. I was just walking by a house that reminded me of your old neighborhood. Do you remember that playground we used to go to?” She laughs.
“Of course,” I answer, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I move away from the window on instinct, but then I turn to face it and look through the curtains. “Why?”
She answers something about nostalgia but I can’t listen, let alone speak. There’s a flash of a man outside my window.
A man, well a boy, I remember very well from school. He’s only visible for a few seconds before he disappears behind a building across the street.
My entire body erupts in chills and for a moment I swear I think I’m seeing things.
It can’t have been him. Maybe I’m just imagining that I saw him. It’s like Kelly—she reminded me of someone I used to know, but that person isn’t here. My heart rampages as Michaela drones on.
I step closer to the window, moving the curtain to the side. There’s no one there. Nothing but the wind blowing the branches. Michaela is still talking, but I’ve lost track of what she’s saying.
There’s nothing there. Even still I close the blinds and let out a small laugh along with Michaela… what the hell we’re laughing over, I don’t know.
“Anyway,” she says, “you should come out tonight. I’d love to see your face.”
“I’ll think about it,” I promise, and end the call. My hands trembling and my mind taken back ten years ago.
HALEY
10 years ago
Don’t move.
Don’t move a muscle.
Don’t blink or breathe too hard or give any sign that you want to run away.
I keep the thoughts in my head on a loop. There are no other games to play in this place. The only place I can escape to is inside my head.
Don’t move. Stay perfectly still.
It’s late at night, but without a clock, I don’t know what time it is. My body is tired, my muscles ache in a way I didn’t think was possible. They make us do jumping jacks all day long until our legs can’t stand then the next day, still as can be. We’re not allowed to move.
I’ve been sitting at this narrow desk for so long. I run through the alphabet, and count to a hundred. I think of every song I know but I’m careful not to move my lips.
I try to think of something else to pass the time, but there’s nothing there in my head.
I go through the colors of the rainbow.
My heart pounds hard and fast. It won’t slow down no matter how long I sit here on this side of a one-sided mirror. On the other side— I refuse to think. I refuse to believe it’s real.
I just ignore it.
I count to ten again, then twenty.
The man keeps shouting at me. He’s been shouting for so long that I think his voice is starting to break down. His throat must be raw and hurting.
The quiet isn’t any better.
It just means I can hear the grunts from the other side of the window, and the sound of Mr. Jay’s boot coming down on the boy’s hand. The screams. Tears prick my eyes.
I try to ignore it. The door is locked. I can’t do anything. They want me to watch so I keep my head straight but I try not to see what’s right in front of me.
We shouldn’t have looked at each other. We shouldn’t have said hello.
We broke the rules for what?
For both of us to get beaten one at a time, in front of each other. My punishment was first. And my body is still shaking. My throat worse off from screaming.
And my hands, I look down at them black and blue. I shouldn’t have done anything.
I wonder if there’s anything left of the girl I once was.
My heart. That’s what’s left. It beats hard, like it’s trying to warn me but this is wrong. My heart still knows that this is sick and terrible and a good person would intervene.
I’m not a good person.
Maybe I never was.
I’m not going to get out of my chair. I’m not going to go to bang at the door and scream for help. I added the time to his beatings. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
He might break the boy into pieces.
Don’t move.
Don’t move a muscle.
I don’t even dare to close my eyes.