Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“This explains a lot of shit.” He watches me for a few beats, his eyes seeming to peer into mine. Then he stands up all of a sudden, clutching the bracelet between his fingers. “I have to go.”
“Wait.” I stand, too, and Dahlia follows, her brows knitting as she watches Preston carefully.
“I’ll give it back later.” He pauses. “If I can.”
“It’s not that.” I step in front of him. “Is that symbol common? If it’s really valuable, maybe Mom stole it…”
“She would’ve never been able to steal my grandfather’s bracelet. So that means he willingly gave it to her.”
“G-grandfather?”
“Yes, Winston James Armstrong. This belonged to him at some point and has his initials. My father and uncle have similar ones. They’re usually offered by the father to his offspring, so I’m supposed to get one after graduating. Grandpa said he lost his a long time ago, but that doesn’t seem to be the case—”
“Vi, watch out!” Dahlia’s scream punctures my ears as the loud revving of an engine and a popping sound echo in the air.
My first instinct is to push Preston, but as I do so, he swings us around so fast, I’m disoriented and lose my footing.
Dahlia screams again when I crash to the ground, and I think I’ve been hit.
But a heavy body is on me as a few other gunshots are exchanged. I catch a glimpse of Larson running with his gun out. Dahlia’s sobbing, and a very familiar warmth is enveloping me.
Jude.
I tap his shoulder. “J-Jude… I think…I think Pres…”
He gathers me in his arms, shielding me completely, but from over his shoulder, I can see a motionless body lying on top of the blanket, blood soaking his jacket and the grass.
And he’s not moving.
Preston is not moving.
Dahlia’s shaking, running toward me, but I push at Jude, and I run toward Preston on unsteady feet.
Because he’s bleeding out and not moving.
“No…no…no… Pres, please…no!”
Strong arms try to pull me back, but I’m screaming so loud, I can’t hear anything else.
This is a nightmare, right?
Please tell me I’ll wake up soon.
Please.
34
VIOLET
Skeletal fingers wrap around my throat, the bones squeezing so tight, I’m wheezing.
Her amber eyes are dead, looking through me as two streaks of blood trickle down either side of her mouth.
She’s sitting on my chest again, crushing my rib cage and stabbing my heart.
“Ma…ma…” I strain, my breath leaving my lungs in short gasps.
“You know.” She adds another hand around my throat. “You’re a curse, Violet. Not only did you ruin my life, but you’re also destroying everyone else’s around you like a useless whore.”
“N-no…that’s not…”
“I told you, didn’t I?” She smiles, her canines looking like sharp fangs in the darkness. “You’ll be the downfall of anyone who cares about you.”
“No…”
“Didn’t Mario like you? Where is he now?”
“That’s…that’s…”
“How about Preston? You killed him in his prime.”
“No!”
I gasp awake, tears streaming down my cheeks and into my mouth. The salty taste explodes on my tongue as I pant, my whole body trembling.
“Vi!”
I startle at Dahlia’s voice, then release a long breath. It…was a nightmare.
The whole thing was a nightmare.
Dahlia, Preston, and I didn’t go to the park. He didn’t get shot.
All of it is…not real.
And yet the weight crushing my chest remains there, heavy and obstructive, and I’m sucking air into my burning lungs with short pants.
I focus on my sister and pause. She’s wearing an oversized jacket—probably Kane’s—and her eyes are red.
Why does she look as if she’s been crying?
Dahlia doesn’t cry. She’s the strongest woman I know.
“Are you okay?” She sits on the bed, taking my hand in hers. “The doctor said it’s just a graze, but…”
Her voice breaks, her hand shaking uncontrollably around mine. And that’s when I notice that my upper arm is bandaged.
“Hey…” I don’t recognize my hoarse voice. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“I know…I know that, but all I keep thinking about is when you were in a coma, and I guess I thought you’d be gone again. I’m terrified of losing you, Vi.”
“You won’t.” I pull her in for a hug. “I’m right here.”
She buries her face in my neck, sniffling softly, and I pat her back, my fingers trembling due to the pulsing pain in my arm.
Then I realize the room we’re in smells of very familiar antiseptic.
The type of smell I was surrounded with for months and could breathe even when I was in a coma.
The hospital.
“Dahlia,” I whisper, my voice catching.
“Yeah?” She pulls away, wiping at her puffy eyes.
My gaze strays to the blotch of blood on her sweater, visible beneath the jacket, and my heart burns. “Were you hurt?”
“Oh, no, no.” She touches the dried blood. “This is because I was dragging you away from Preston.”
“So…it’s true?”
Images of Preston lying on the grass assault me. A large spot of blood drenched the center of his jacket, and his usually mischievous eyes were closed.