Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Probably too much time. I wanted to tell her she really didn’t need to keep coming over, but the selfish part of me didn’t want to refuse the help.”
I rubbed his arm. “It’s not selfish to accept help, Peter, I’m just worried that there might be some other reason she’s been coming over.” My insinuation was clear and Peter’s eyes widened when he finally caught on to what I was hinting at.
“What? No, that’s not it at all. Listen, it’s probably not my place to tell you this but Angela’s developed certain coping mechanisms after the attack. She’s been seeing a therapist and she confessed to me that even though the therapy has helped she’s found it difficult to be alone with her thoughts. So she created a habit of keeping busy to distract herself from it all. Helping with the boys has been one of her ways to keep busy.”
I stared at him, suddenly embarrassed for thinking that something might be going on. “She told you all this?” Peter nodded. An uneasy feeling swept over me. How could I simultaneously feel sorrow for Angela while also empathising with Vas and Sven and all they’d been though? I hated this, hated not being able to clearly delineate good from evil.
I was stuck in the middle, unable to pick a side.
“Poor Angela,” I said at last.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “I don’t think distracting herself from her issues is a good strategy long term, but I’m not sure she’s ready to be convinced of that yet.” He paused a moment, hands on his hips as he blew out a slow breath. “You can wait in my room until I’m done with Arthur.” He motioned to his bedroom across the hall and I went, stepping into the room and closing over the door.
The décor was simple, and again, everything was neat and tidy. There were no posters or decorations of any kind on the walls, just a calendar from last year that had been pinned above the nightstand. I knew it wasn’t Peter’s choice to have such a plain bedroom since his apartment showed little glimpses into his personality. No, this room was plain because that’s how his dad liked it. He’d held such an iron grip over Peter and this family for so long and now he was gone. I wondered if he’d ever return, but then considering his gambling debts, probably not.
A few minutes later the door creaked open and Peter stepped inside. “How’s Arthur?” I asked in a quiet voice.
“He’s settled, for now.” He came and sat next to me on the bed. “Angela texted to say she’d be over in an hour. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
“You just seemed a little weird about the whole thing earlier.”
“I wasn’t weird. I’ll admit I thought it odd since you two have never really been friends, but I can understand why she’d want to keep busy.”
My thoughts wandered to Vas and Sven. They were the reason Angela had been traumatised. Vas said he hadn’t meant for her to be so badly hurt, but that didn’t change the fact that she had been, and it was difficult to be in a position of caring for all three of them at once. Was there something wrong with me? I shouldn’t care for Vas and Sven while still worrying about Angela, and yet, inexplicably, I did.
“Let’s not talk about Angela,” Peter said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Let’s talk about you. I want to know everything that happened in the prison. I know you gave us all a rundown yesterday, but I’m sure there were things you didn’t want to talk about in front of your parents.”
“There are some things,” I admitted. “But they aren’t going to be very enjoyable to listen to. I’m also not sure I want to discuss them yet. Reliving it all, it just feels like too much, you know?”
“I get it,” Peter said, rubbing my arm. “We won’t talk about it until you’re ready. How about blood though? You must be hungry. It’s been weeks since you last fed from me.”
Panic coursed through me. I was going to have to reveal some aspects of what happened to me in prison after all. I’d only fed from Vasilios very recently and wouldn’t need blood again for a while.
“Actually,” I said, and nervously cleared my throat. “I had to feed from someone in the prison. There were some vampires who attacked me when I first entered. They drained me and left me weak, so I had no other choice.”
When I met Peter’s gaze his expression was cautious. “Who did you feed from?”
I worried my lip, knowing I could take the easy route and lie, tell him I fed from a random prisoner, but I couldn’t do that to him. I needed to be honest. Besides, I’d already decided that I would tell Peter everything that had transpired between me and Vas, and this was part of it. “I fed from Vasilios,” I answered quietly, lowering my eyes.