Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
This feeling of unfathomable devastation is new.
Torturous.
It guts straight through my stomach, taints my heart, and blossoms outward. It chips and cuts and carves away at every fiber of my being that has managed to survive without Elias. At this rate…it won’t be much longer until my soul is completely eroded.
The only thing I think that’s kept me alive this long is knowing Tomas didn’t kill him.
And I only know that because if he had, it would’ve been all over the news or, at the very least, a memo sent out to Dad about it at work.
I’m a little shocked Dad’s been allowed to keep his job after my brother’s bullshit stunt.
I was also totally taken by surprise – although not in a good way – when he brought home my purse that had my wallet and phone inside. It became my first clue that Elias truly has no desire to have any further contact with me, a fact that ceaselessly churns my stomach.
“Zel…” someone says in an attempt to summon my attention.
I ignore it.
I ignore it and continue to focus on the impossible weight on my chest that I’m being forced to breathe through.
“Zel…” my name is repeated, this time sounding like it’s being called from above the water as I helplessly continue to drown deeper and deeper.
“Zel…”
With all the energy I can muster, I force my puffy eyes to flicker up and over to where Mom is leerily staring. She’s laying in her hospital-grade bed across from the lounger that I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been occupying. Sounds of afternoon soap operas coming from the television on the wall drone on at a lower volume than they previously were, indicating she most likely thought I couldn’t hear her calling to me over them; however, the sight of her nearly empty glass on her untidied bedside table prompts me into snapping out of my own sadness.
I unwrap my arms from around my folded legs that were glued to my chest and slide into a standing position. “Need some um…,” my tattered voice wobbles, throat tight, every word agony to speak. I blow a random strand away from my face and start the conversation over. “Should I go get you some more water? Some juice? You wanna try the lemon and honey tea the dietitian recommended?”
“I’m alright, princess,” Mom brushes off warmly before flashing me a small smile. “Though, I will admit…it still sounds strange to hear that I have a dietitian.” Her grin that reminds me of my own when I’m not avoiding it is blasted brightly my way. “Whoever thought I’d have something so fancy in my life?”
Her calling attention to all that Elias has done for us wedges the knife in my chest ten times deeper.
Everything in this room…was provided by him – down to the very chair I was just silently sobbing in.
Those medical debts that initially brought us together, along with any others that have come up, were obliterated with the simple click of a button.
Elias arranged for some of the best private nurses, doctors, therapists – in all of Florida – to care for my mother and a dietitian to help construct her a better immune system-based diet while I slept soundly in sheets with thread counts so high, I could’ve gotten a nosebleed.
God…I still see him every night in my dreams.
His commanding tone is like a lost lullaby.
His tongue that sculpted a new woman out of me has become an unobtainable tool.
And his arms…his arms, which became my haven – whether we were fucking or fighting – are now nothing more than a sacred chapel I’m no longer invited to worship in.
Sadly, being awake isn’t any better.
I visualize him in everything.
Smell his scent lingering outside my bathroom.
Hear his tsk tsking as I brush the knots out of my hair.
See his shadow over my shoulder when I try to open a textbook.
A textbook he bought me.
To the class he paid the tuition for, refusing for me to carry debt in my name any longer.
I cried so hard about those facts yesterday that I couldn’t even get out of the shower to go to said class.
I’m so fucking stupid.
So.
So.
Stupid.
I let Tomas in…
I knew better and still let myself be used in the worst ways by my family.
“No tea,” Mom speaks up, recollecting my stare from where it had fallen to the floor, “but I would love some fresh air out on the front porch.” Her head tilts in a loving way. “And some company.”
Unable to let words free themselves, I simply slip on a phony, mother-approved grin and stroll toward the walk-in closet of the converted guestroom to remove the wheelchair. After toeing the levers, I guide it around the side of Mom’s twin-sized bed that she’s currently cursing for not being the queen one she hopes to get back into with Dad someday.