Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Fuck no! I’d…I’d rather take the same pills Mom ended her life with than let him see.”
“See what?”
“The rot inside me.”
“You believe he’d be scared?”
“No. He’d be disgusted.”
“Does that scare you? The idea of him seeing inside you?”
“No.” I choke on the word. “It terrifies me.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d be gone.” I jerk up and stride toward her. She doesn’t move as I stand right in front of her, staring down at her dark, unexpressive eyes. “Like Mom.”
“You believe he’d commit suicide?” Her voice is robotic, almost as if it’s dragging through my skull.
“No. But suicide isn’t the only way people leave. Dad’s alive, but he left me a long time ago.” I reach a hand toward her slowly, but she doesn’t move away. “You’ll leave, too, one day, won’t you?”
“Not if you don’t want me to, no—”
“Shut up.” I slam a hand to her face. “I think it’s better if I finish you all off now and end this paranoia. If I kill you first, no one will leave me again.”
“Are you going to kill Marcus, too?” she speaks through my fingers, the sound faintly muffled. “So you can get rid of him before he gets rid of you?”
“That’s a good plan. You have the best ideas when your life is threatened.”
“Here’s another one,” she says, her tone unchanged. “Or more like a thought. An unprofessional one, but you need to hear it anyway. Do you want to know why you’re spiraling more than usual, Preston? It’s because you’re suppressing more than usual. You’re trying to mold yourself into what you believe Marcus wants to see, but it’s having the opposite effect on your psyche. Your brain is rebelling against you because you’re forcing it into the same mindset from when you were abused.”
“Shut up,” I whisper.
“Keep quiet, Preston.” Her voice turns deeper, mimicking mine. “Don’t say a word, Preston. If you stay still, if you hold it all in and be an obedient statue, no one will know.”
“Shut up!”
“Isn’t that what you’re telling yourself now? In this very moment? Aren’t you killing that part of you that wants to be heard and accepted for who he is? The reason you’re doing that is simple. You’re feeling vulnerable for the first time since the abuse, and you’re fighting it tooth and nail. You’re rioting against it. You’re trying to murder it any way possible.” She smiles softly against my hand. “You’d rather kill Marcus than deal with the intense feelings you have toward him. You’d rather bury him with them six feet deep than tell him about your demons, because if you do, if you let it all out in front of the person you care about so deeply, you’ll have to face them as well.”
“I said. Shut the fuck up!” I jerk away, her words having burned my skin and throat, spreading down my spine like wildfire.
She stands up, places the notebook on the chair, and pulls at the edge of her cardigan until it’s straight. “I think it’s time you handle this by yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I won’t be around to watch you self-destruct again.” She turns and walks away, the click of her heels loud on the wooden floor.
“Wait!” I scream. “You get paid to listen to me! You can’t leave!”
She opens the door and a cold gust of air rips through, freezing me to the bone.
Dr. Duret disappears, but I don’t move.
I can’t.
My world is blurry, and I realize my eyes are filled with tears.
“Not again, please,” I whisper, falling to my knees in front of the chair, hugging the notebook to my chest as it quakes. “Mom…don’t go.”
Anyway, fuck Dr. Duret. She can go to hell for all I care.
Mental breakdown? Totally did not happen.
Totally didn’t spend most of the night there, waiting for her to come back. She will when she needs another check from Dad.
Speaking of Dad, I think Lenin was right.
He decided to drop me.
It’s late at night and I just lit his favorite car on fire right after I came back from Dr. Duret’s depressingly empty house.
It was a vintage Bentley he paid a fortune for and imported from somewhere in the Middle East.
Dad saw his money, effort, and love for that car that he only takes on a spin once or twice a year burn right before his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, just went back to his cave—sorry, the study.
He didn’t even send Lenin to get me.
Can you fucking believe it? The tragic absence of Lenin confirms the theory I’ve had for several weeks now.
Dad doesn’t punish me anymore, because any sliver of care he had for me is gone.
So now, I’m standing in the rain, right across from the garage’s entrance as the staff puts out the fire.
Waiting.
For what, I don’t know.
Actually, I do know. I’m waiting for Jude to come to his senses, as he’s also losing his grip on reality after learning some disturbing truths.