Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Sighing, I turned at the green light—heading for my craphole above the drug den.
Parking, I got out of my car, fished out my bag, and climbed the stairs without looking left, right, up, down, or even straight ahead for too long.
One thing I learned the hard way about drug dealers, they’re real fucking paranoid. They don’t like people who stare.
I made it to my apartment unaccosted and shoved inside. Looking around, I sighed for what felt like the fiftieth time in an hour. I was being generous when I called this place a shithole.
The gross, puke-green wallpaper peeled off the walls, revealing the even grosser poop-brown paint underneath. The laminate floors were cracking. There was no hot water in the kitchen. There was something that very much did not like being disturbed living under my sink, and the black mold creeping up my bedroom walls forced me to sleep on my threadbare, falling-apart living room couch.
I tried for something resembling positivity as I changed out of my clothes and began preparing lunch. Setting my phone down on the table, I pressed record, then began my daily mantra.
“I am in control of my life. No one makes me their victim. No one has power over me that I don’t give them. Soon, I will have a job that fulfills me, a home that delights me, a family that loves me, and a love that completes me.”
I repeated that three times while I brought the glass noodles to a boil. By the final time, I almost believed it.
“First, Dr. Cormac didn’t say it was impossible. All he said was I needed to stump up the cash, which I knew,” I cried. “I knew IVF would be expensive, I just didn’t know how expensive. Either way, I was always going to run into this issue, so instead of wallowing, I need to figure out how to make it work.
“There has to be a way I can come up with thirty thousand dollars. Some way... Something...”
I trailed off, letting my mind focus on chopping the vegetables so I could pretend I wasn’t stumped.
“I’ve got to think of something,” I whispered. “This is one dream I can have. I won’t let money of all things stand in my way.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“You’re early.” Setting down the knife, I padded out of the kitchen and unlocked the door. “Lunch isn’t ready, Nicky, but I’m making your favorite,” I tossed over my shoulder as I returned to my meal. “Japchae. And yes, I’m leaving out the mushrooms, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t taste as good without them.”
“I don’t know,” replied a voice that definitely did not belong to a fifteen-year-old boy. “I’m kind of partial to mushroom-free japchae myself.”
I spun around, heart shooting into my throat. Our eyes connected... and I stopped.
My lungs stopped expanding. My heart stopped pumping. My mind held fast—stuck in this one moment and single realization that I was looking at me.
Long, shining, healthy hair flowing past my shoulders. Designer cashmere dress clinging to a body thin and toned from exercise and healthy eating, and not from skipping meals to make rent. Makeup applied with an expert hand. Orange lipstick both bold and suitable in how perfectly it drew attention to my mouth—
—until I looked at that mouth, and saw its smirk.
I snapped back, gasping as air, blood, and sense rushed into me once again—jolting me to reality.
“What the fuck are you doing here!”
Sue hissed, a slight frown cracking her perfect mouth. “Really, Sarah? We haven’t seen each other in ten years, and the first thing you say to me is what the fuck are you doing here? At least give me a hug first.”
She stepped forward and my hand flashed.
Snatching my knife off the cutting board, I brought it up between us so fast, she flung back—nearly colliding with the open door. All trace of her smirk was gone now.
“Fuck’s sake, what are you doing! Put that away!”
“This isn’t any concern of yours”—I flashed the knife—“because you’re turning around and walking out that door.”
“Dammit, Sarah!” She flung her arms down like it pissed her off that I made her throw them up. “I’m not here for this,” she snapped. “I’ve been searching for you for months. I wouldn’t have done that and come all the way here if it wasn’t important.”
“Sucks for you, because I’m not interested.” I tossed the knife back on the cutting board without issue. It wasn’t like I was actually going to kill the bitch in my apartment with my knife covered in my fingerprints. Sue had already ruined my life. I wasn’t going to prison because of her on top of it. “Get out.”
“Just let me say what I came here to—”
“Get out.”
“—you’ll regret it if you throw me out before—”
“Get out!”
Frustration bled into her tone. “This is life or death—”