Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“But I am sorry for you. That much, you can believe.”
“What about my mom? I have to call her. Oh, my god, she’s all alone. How is she supposed to deal with this on her own?”
His eyes dart away, and I realize there’s more to this. “Did you hear something about her, too?”
“All we know is she’s still missing.”
Now the world spins around me. The only thing that keeps me centered and conscious is the pressure from my nails digging into my palms. I clench my fists tight enough to break the skin, and the pain centers me. I won’t break down. I can’t break down. Not here. Not in front of him or anybody else at this fucking school. This is what they all wanted. They wanted him dead for what he did. Now, they’ve got what they wanted. I won’t let them celebrate watching me crumble on top of everything else.
“I need to go to my room.” I stand, forcing my legs to stop shaking long enough to support me.
“I’ll walk you and—”
I shake my head before he can finish, making a beeline for the door. “It isn’t far. I’ll be fine.”
“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he warns, but I ignore him, marching down the hall with my head down, fists swinging at my sides. If I clench them much longer, they’ll cramp up, but the alternative is much worse. I’ll shatter into a million pieces otherwise.
Only once I’m alone, with the door between me and the rest of this ugly, awful place, can I let it go. I lean my back against the door and slide down its length, curling up in a ball on the floor and sobbing for everything my family has lost.
20
QUINTON
I’m on my way out of the gym after a particularly grueling workout when I first catch wind of something being wrong, or at least off.
There’s an energy in the air that didn’t exist earlier today or even an hour ago when I first got on the treadmill for a run. Groups of students cluster in the halls, whispering and muttering among themselves. I pass without commenting or revealing interest, but keep my ears tuned to the gossip. They’re too wrapped up in whatever they’re excited about to notice me.
“Fucking rat. He got what was coming to him.”
“I only hope it hurt.”
“I hope it took a long time,” someone adds. “He didn’t deserve to go slow. I wish I was there to see it.”
“Whoever it was, they deserve an award. I wonder how much Xander offered to get it done.”
That stops me in my tracks. My head snaps around, eyes searching for the son of a bitch who mentioned my father’s name so casually. “Excuse me?” I bark. Like magic, the chatter around me stops. A few girls even gasp and cover their mouths with their hands. It’s like until this moment, I was a ghost.
He shrugs. “Hey, like the asshole didn’t have it coming to him.”
Someone else chimes in. “For real. Of everybody here, you have the most reason to want that rat fucking dead.”
“Mather?” I ask. “He’s dead?”
“Just one of those things.” A round of laughter erupts, the easy laughter of the good guys when the bad guy has been eliminated. As far as they’re concerned, all is right in the world again. Justice has been served.
Six months ago, I would have agreed with them. Six months ago, I would have popped open a bottle of champagne and drained it before going down to the prison and pissing all over the corpse. He was a rat who fucked my entire life, and he deserved to die.
That opinion hasn’t changed.
It’s me that’s changed.
Instead of going to my room for a shower, which was my intention before hearing the news, I head straight for the elevator and take it up to Aspen’s level. She must’ve heard if word has spread the way it has. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that someone took pleasure in delivering the news personally. Probably more than one someone.
I didn’t expect her to answer at my first knock. “Aspen. Open up. It’s me.” When all I get in response is silence, I knock louder, barely stopping short of pounding. “Aspen. Come on. Let me in.”
She wouldn’t do anything extreme, would she? Dammit. “At least let me know you hear me.”
She does better than that. The knob turns, and a moment later, I’m treated to the sight of her red, tearstained face.
The fact that I’m sweaty doesn’t seem to matter. She launches herself into my arms, holding me the way I’d imagine someone would clutch a life raft in the middle of open water.
I maneuver us into the room and close the door, locking it before lifting her over my arms and carrying her shaking body to the bed. She won’t let go long enough for me to place her on top. I have no choice but to kick off my shoes and lie down with her. For a long time, the only sound in the room is her wracking sobs and my soft murmuring. “I’m sorry. I really am.”