Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
I cry until there’s nothing left, until my lungs hurt and I’m empty.
Amber.
That poor baby.
He failed her.
He failed me.
I wish I could hate him for that. I wish I could say it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care. But the truth is, I do.
I care so much it might kill me.
19
I NEED TO TALK TO MY mom.
It takes three tries for my fingers to go steady enough to hit the right contacts. She picks up in less than two rings, her voice sounding like she just woke up, but I know that’s not true. She rarely sleeps, and when she does, it’s restless and broken. More often than not, I find her on the sofa in the middle of the night, staring at the television, trying to quiet her mind enough to drift off.
“Violet?”
I take a breath and try to speak, but it comes out as more of a gasp. “Mom.”
“Violet, honey, are you okay? What’s happening?”
I can hear the fear in her voice.
She knows I don’t call her late at night unless something is wrong.
Very wrong.
“Can I come to Gran’s? I need to see you,” I say. “I should’ve just come straight there, I’m sorry. Everything... everything is ruined. Everything has blown up. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to breathe...”
“Oh, my girl. I need you to take a few deep breaths and tell me what happened,” she says, soft, and the warmth of it calms me just a touch. “Do I need to come get you?”
I take a few steadying breaths.
My keys are still in the ignition, headlights spilling color into the storm raging down. “I’m at the gas station near the interstate. I just needed a minute.”
“Do you want to tell me what went down?”
“Travis... Travis has a daughter.”
Her silence tells me she is as shocked as I am.
A moment or two passes. “Oh, honey. I didn’t... I’m sorry.”
I tell her everything, and when I’m done, my shoulders slump and tears roll down my cheeks.
“Come to me, sweetheart. I’ll help you. We’ll get through this, I promise you.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I will head your way now. I should be there in a few hours.”
“I’ll keep the porch light on,” she says. “But please—drive carefully, baby. There’s a band of storms, it’s bad out. Don’t push it, if you need me to get you, I will.”
“Yeah, I know.” My face is wet, cheek pressed to the steering wheel. I close my eyes so tight it hurts. “I’ll be careful, Mom.”
I want to crawl back through the phone, into those arms from when I was younger and storms made me shake. But I’m grown, and this is my mess. I hang up before I can change my mind or say something I’ll regret. I don’t move for a long time. There’s this metallic tang in my mouth, the taste of another secret, one I’ll never be able to swallow.
Eventually the dashboard flashes a fuel warning and that’s enough to pull me upright. I wipe my face, blow my nose with a napkin from the glove box, and roll myself out into the night. There is a gas station about five miles ahead. I’ll clean myself up, get some water and coffee, and try and make it to Gran’s place without having a complete breakdown.
My phone hasn’t stopped ringing, and the second I pull up, I turn it off.
I can’t deal with that right now.
I can’t deal with any of it.
Turning the car off, I get out, my legs jelly. The air presses into me like a lead weight, sharp in my nostrils, rainwater pooling at my boots, pavement slick beneath me. The highway is quiet and empty beyond the neon buzz of the station sign; I’m alone, save for that electronic humming. I grip the pump handle, the numbers flickering, then blur as hot tears flood my cheeks. I shove the nozzle back into its cradle just as headlights split the darkness.
A black SUV glides to a halt, engine purring. It is parked right next to my car, not at another pump. It’s as if I know, even before I turn and stare, that something bad is about to happen. My entire body stiffens, my skin prickles and the whole world feels like it comes to a stop. The driver’s window winds down. I see a ring flash under the glare, catch sight of a gaunt face—a very familiar one, at that. Jeremy, leaning forward, all lean angles and predatory grace. He’s so thin these days, cheekbones carved in shadow, but his smile is the same evil emptiness that terrifies me.
Our eyes lock.
My hand drifts to the car door, ready to launch in, but I’m not quick enough. His hand moves, a smooth, fluid motion, and a gun appears, black and cold as the night. He cocks it; the click reverberates in my skull. I freeze, senses stripped naked. No prayers, no cries—my breath just vanishes. I am animal, pure instinct and raging heartbeats.