Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
She nods, and I shut the bathroom door and turn on the water to the tub. Once I get it to temperature, I send a quick text to Jessie and then reach my hand out to her. When she just stares at it, I speak. “It’s okay, angel. Let me help you.” The last thing I want is for her to fall and hurt herself.
Eve allows me to assist her into the tub, and she pulls her knees to her chest, laying her forehead on them.
“You can’t get your stitches wet just yet, so I have to let it drain.”
She doesn’t show me any sign that she’s acknowledged what I said.
I grab a cup, fill it from the faucet, and let it run down over her hair and back.
She sits facing forward, softly rocking back and forth while I shampoo and condition her hair. Once I’m done, I lower myself to my knees and place my forearms on the side of the tub to look at her. “Feel better?” I ask.
Licking her lips, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Her green eyes stare straight ahead at the wall. I place the back of my hand on her forehead, down over her cheek and to her neck. I can’t tell if she has a fever or not. She feels warm, but that could be from the hot water.
“Jessie is bringing you some soup.”
She drops her eyes to her legs. “I’m sorry,” she repeats and adds, “For saying you’re like them. You’re nothing like them.”
“Who is them, Eve?” I question, wanting to keep her talking to me even though I have an idea of what she meant. Every man in her life has drugged her. Now that includes me. This was different from when I challenged her at her house. When she was going to drug me to run.
“Our fathers,” she answers softly.
I open my mouth, but she goes on. “She told me you were a good boy, but I didn’t believe her. No one who survives hell comes out holy.” Her eyes glance at my nun tattoo when she adds, “We’re all damned.”
She’s talking in riddles, which makes me wonder if Devin gave her too much. “Who told you that?”
Her eyes meet mine and my frown deepens. She looks tired…off in another world, but her answer makes my blood run cold. “Your mother.”
“My mother?” I repeat.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, her eyes go back to the running faucet.
“What about my mom, Eve?” I dig, needing her to explain. My mother has been dead for quite some time. When would she have seen or spoken to her?
She sniffs. “I had an imaginary friend. Isolation will do that to you…make you see things that aren’t there. She was so pretty.” A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Golden blond hair that flowed down her back. Big eyes. They were so bright.” Her voice drops. “The prettiest thing about her was that she never had any bruises. Her skin was so vibrant and…perfect. I wanted to be her.” Sighing, she licks her lips. “She and I would play in the basement.”
I stiffen, knowing my mother was caged down there.
“When we would go down there, there was always a woman. She looked cold and hungry. I wanted to help her…set her free, but she never would let me. Told me it was too dangerous. That she was where she was meant to be. One time, I was down there with my imaginary friend, and my father caught me. Threw me in the cell across from hers. It wasn’t long after that I heard someone new join us in the basement. It was you.” She pauses and I swallow. “You gave her a brownie…” Eve drops her head to look at the water. “Your father found you, dragged you to the elevator. That’s when she spoke to me. She said, ‘He’s a good boy. Not like them.’ I didn’t believe her because I didn’t think people were born bad. I thought ‘Just give him time…they’ll change him.’”
I run a hand down my face and take a deep breath, wanting her to continue but giving her time.
“Your father came back, opened her cell. He started to beat her. He didn’t know my father had thrown me into the cell across from her. He unlocked my cell and removed his belt.” Her shoulders start to tremble. “He tied my wrists together with it and shoved me face-first into the cell door, using the rest of his belt to secure my hands above my head to the bars. I had to stand on my tiptoes. Your mother yelled and begged him to not rape me. He didn’t, but he…did other things. Once satisfied, he shoved open the door and slammed it shut, leaving me hanging there. Your mom sat on the floor of her cell, hands wrapped around the bars, sobbing. He walked over and spit on her before he left us alone.” A tear runs down her cheek.