Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Not thoughtless, Mum. You’re just upset.” I glance toward the toilet. “Perhaps you’d feel better if you went back on those meds that the doctor prescribed for you. They’ll help you process. And I’ll be back for Christmas. It won’t be long before you see me again.”
She keeps staring into the piece of mirror. Finally, after several tense moments, she slowly twists her neck and refocuses on me.
“No, Alissa, darling. I can’t go back on those meds. They empty my mind. Make me a ghost of myself. I’d rather… I’d rather…”
She gets to her feet, shaking, still holding on to the shard.
“Mum…?”
“My sister—she had her choice taken away from her. Cancer took her life.” Mum scowls.
“Mum, what the fuck?”
She smiles at me—the same twisted smile she always gives when she’s about to fly off the handle. “Mummy doesn’t want to get in the way of your dreams anymore, pumpkin.”
“I appreciate that, but why don’t—”
My words morph into a scream, a piercing shriek, as my mother jams the piece of mirror directly into her own throat.
Blood spurts all over the bathroom, coming out in gushes to the time of her heartbeat. The crystal duck she gave me as a going-away present is covered in it.
Then Mum removes the shard of mirror, jams it into her right eye.
I can see the veins and arteries peering out from the gash in her throat. She keeps her intact eye on me as she slowly falls to the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
Finally, she removes the shard of mirror from her eye, opens her bathrobe, and thrusts it into her own chest. Between two ribs. Directly into her heart.
I’m no longer screaming. I can’t make any noise.
And though I’m horrified at the sight before me, will never be the same again… A small part of my brain is relieved.
Because this woman no longer has power over me.
I deferred for a semester, but I hunkered down and finished my undergraduate degree on time. Went straight to grad school. Lived my dream of being a flautist for six glorious years.
And then, how callously I threw all my dreams away.
The dream my mother killed herself over.
That wasn’t my fault. But if I hadn’t left home, stayed like she’d requested…
Still I threw it away. Found a straighter, narrower path. Traded in fantasy for stability.
But I know now, no matter what…
I’ll never make that mistake again.
I wake up with a start. Look around.
My breath catches. My heart races as fear lances through me.
This isn’t home. This isn’t Maddox’s home.
This isn’t even the home of my parents. The home where my mother killed herself in front of me in the ghastliest way.
I’m on a lumpy mattress. It’s covered with yellow stains.
I sit up. Peeling beige wallpaper. A nightstand covered in water stains. The smell of mildew hangs in the air.
It’s a hotel room. The run-down kind you see in murder mystery documentaries.
I set my feet on the floor. Stand up.
My head is groggy. I squeeze my eyes shut.
We were in Rouge’s office. She smacked Maddox in the back of the head and knocked him out. Then she turned on me.
The last thing I remember hearing was Chet’s cold laughter.
I thought he was on our side.
He wasn’t. He gave us away to Rouge.
Only after he led us directly into her trap.
A cracked mirror hangs on the wall.
My eyes are red and puffy. Hair messy and stringy. I’m still wearing the tiny black dress from last night, but it’s wrinkled all over and torn in a few places.
But I’m alive.
Alive…and in this seedy motel room.
I walk to the door. Pull on the handle.
Locked, of course, from the outside.
I’m not surprised, but panic still sets in. I pound on the door.
“Hello? Anyone? Is there someone there?”
No response.
I’m being held prisoner.
I found the rabbit hole, and I tumbled into it.
I went too far.
This is my punishment.
I keep pounding. “Hello? My name is Alissa Maravilla. I was at a place called Aces Underground.”
“Alissa?”
It’s muffled, but I’d know that resonant baritone anywhere.
“Maddox! Can you hear me?”
“Yes. I’m in the next room.”
“Locked in?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“No idea. It isn’t familiar to you, is it?”
I look around. “Not at all.”
“Are you okay?” he asks.