Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
They can’t.
All they’ll be successful in doing is suffocating me. I yearn to meet other people my age. To explore beyond the edge of the woods where we live. To visit cities and eat at restaurants and experience what life has to offer.
They saved me so they could trap me.
Their protection is an anchor, dragging me deep below the surface. I’m barely able to manage a few breaths before being pulled back under. One of these days I’ll break free completely or drown. Leaving this world for good is almost a better option than spending the rest of it locked away with the world’s most overprotective parental figures.
Climbing out of my bed—the place where I spend more and more time as the darkness becomes too much to bear—I walk over to the giant window. This room in Cy’s cabin has been mine since the day they brought me here. A giant floor-to-ceiling window overlooks the dense forest. When I’m daydreaming of my freedom, I often sprawl out in front of it and read books pretending I’m anywhere but here.
I imagine finding a guy like myself. Someone who’s desperate to escape. Together, we run and run and run, hand in hand, and when we grow too exhausted to keep running, we fall to the earth, strip away our clothes, and fuck like wild animals.
Heat rushes through me, and for a split second I feel Finnick’s teasing nature.
Remy’s got a boner.
I haven’t told them I hear the words they think sometimes. I don’t tell them anything because they’re too busy treating me like a child pressed under their thumb to listen anyway. It’s unusual, I know that much. From what I’ve gathered from Rey and the rest, they only have sensations and feelings. A bond they’re all linked to in a quiet, almost physical way. While I have those too, I also hear them speaking.
Too weak. Too small. Too broken.
Those words are always on repeat in Cy’s voice. I hate that he sees me that way. I crave to prove him wrong. But sometimes he thinks it so loudly and forcefully, I begin to believe it myself.
I sit down with my legs crossed in front of the window. Grabbing my newest leatherbound journal Ewan gave me, I flip it open to a clean page and scribble my most recent inner ramblings. Getting it out on paper often soothes the fires inside me. Despite living in a protective bubble with a bunch of wolf shifters, they don’t ever betray my trust and read my rantings. I think they know this is my only outlet beside my runs with Judd and wrestling with Finnick. With both of those I’m able to exhaust my physical wrath, but it’s the pen to paper that unloads some of the mental anguish.
I devote an entire page to Cyrus.
Throw back at him everything that’s wrong with him.
Too overbearing. Too much of an asshole. Too self-absorbed.
Digging the tip of my pen into the paper, I trace over the letters of his name. Harder and harder with each pass. The anger and resentment toward the Alpha of our pack build with each stroke. Images of his bright blue eyes and stern expression explode behind my lids. For once, I crave to have razor-sharp claws of my own—to be the one with all the power and sharp teeth and booming growls. I want to pin him down and force him to look into my eyes as he thinks of me as too weak, too small, too broken.
A voice—real and not inside my head—breaks my furious trance. The pen has cracked in my grip, black ink smearing over the back of my hand. Several dots of ink slides from the pen onto the paper, funneling into the deep grooves of Cy’s name. With a shaky hand, I smear the ink with my thumb across the paper.
“Remy, hon,” Rey says from the other side of my door. “Dinner’s just about ready.”
Her tone is cautious and maybe a little apologetic. Warmth tickles my way, but I ignore it, keeping my impenetrable wall in place. I shove the broken pen in between the pages of the journal and slam it shut. After tossing it beside a pile of books, I rise to my feet and walk across the cold wood floors to the door. I twist the knob, my body still buzzing with leftover anger, and then open it.
I may be able to keep Rey out of my mind, but when she’s in the flesh, I can’t ignore her. Like how my mother was, she smothers me with love and affection. Though sometimes it feels as though she babies me, like now when I’m frayed beyond repair, it’s nice to have her dote on me.
What’s for dinner?
When I was nine, a year of being in their custody, Cy commanded that we all learn American Sign Language. Because of me. He was tired of my wordless tantrums and scribbled nonsense. They needed a better way to communicate with me. Since my vocal cords were damaged in the attack, it was my only chance of speaking.