Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Like most petty and stubborn attempts at punishment, the silent treatment hasn't exactly had the desired effect I thought it would.
With us both not speaking to each other, there's been no lesson learned on either side. I know him well enough that he probably thinks I've been silent for so long out of guilt because of his perception of how I handled this case. He wouldn't take a step back and realize that I've made no attempt to explain myself, not that I believe he'd give me the chance to try and convince him that messing around with one of the women here is in the best interest of the case, or that what I've been doing isn't as bad as what some of the others have done.
It makes me wonder what kind of man he thinks I am. We didn't actually share a lot of personal things when we were younger, but he should know enough about me to know that I wouldn't do the things he has spent the last two weeks thinking I've done.
The pain comes from him thinking that time has changed me so much that even with the loss of Dakota, I could cross any of those lines in an effort to take this group down.
There's no greater good in my mind. There's no sacrifice of one to save ten. In my mind, they all have to be saved. I'd be a failure if even one doesn't get out of this place.
Although we can't stop all the abuse while we're here without blowing our cover, he has to know I'd never contribute to it.
The idea that he has thought for weeks that I'm just as despicable as any one of the men here is gnawing at me when I wake up.
I swallow against the pain I've felt as it threatens to climb out of my throat.
His discovery of us last night opens the door for that discussion, but the sight of the non-blinking light in the smoke alarm kills that idea.
This isn't exactly something we can write out in the notebook. The raw emotions we're feeling wouldn't translate properly with written words.
He shifts on the bottom bunk, making it clear that he's also awake, and I'd give anything to have a peek inside his mind right now to know what he's thinking.
Does he feel guilt for where he let his mind take him?
Has he had an apology on his lips since he climbed into bed?
Is he even a little disappointed in himself for not having faith in me?
Do I have the right to question him, asking him what about me made him even consider I’d do those things?
Time and distance can change a person. I'm personally well aware of that.
It was easy to see that he's no longer the sulky, angry boy who has anchored himself in shame for being who he is.
Did he not pay enough attention to me in the past to know that I wasn't capable of the things he thought I was doing?
I grumble a curse under my breath, sweeping my hands over my face. I'm thinking myself in fucking circles here, and none of it can be discussed right now. There's no immediate solution to this fucking problem, and I'm wasting time and energy on this bullshit when I should be focused on the mission.
I pull in a deep, calming breath, needing to start my day. It can't matter what he thinks of me right now, and if I want to be truly honest with myself, it won't matter when this case is over either.
His thoughts on me won't change my goals in life, and it was an error on my part to think that anything could come from our physical interactions. We were enjoying a way to get each other off, not building a life together.
It seems I haven't changed much at all. Hope still has a way of reaching inside of me and taking the helm.
"No more," I growl.
"No more what?" comes from the bottom bunk.
"I can't stay in bed any longer," I improvise. "My fucking back is killing me."
"Think they'll take requests for mattress toppers seriously?" he asks, a hint of laughter in his tone.
"Doesn't hurt to ask," I reply, still lying in the bed.
It seems neither of us wants to face the other, and as forceful as I was being with myself just seconds ago, that negative energy seems to have faded at the sound of his voice.
The realization makes me even angrier. I hate the control the man seems to have over me, and I can only be mad at myself. I've handed him my power without even realizing it, but once again, I don't have an immediate solution for that.
I groan as I climb out of bed. I might've invented a lie to cover my verbal slip-up earlier, but my back actually does hurt after sleeping in these fucking beds. They're only a step up from what I know inmates in jail are provided, as much as that pleases me, knowing it's something these guys are going to face soon, it also makes me wonder if the lack of comfortable accommodations is Bobby's way of preparing them for a destiny he knew was coming for them all along.