Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
“I-I can’t do this, Alec.”
He lifts his head to meet my gaze, his face a mask of horror and anguish, and I know I look pretty much the same. “What do you mean?”
“It took me years of therapy to get where I am today. To be happy. To smile again. To laugh. You … you’re going to remind me of that place. I can’t go back there, Alec. I can’t go back to that darkness.”
The naked pain in his expression forces me to look away. Alec doesn’t deserve what I’m doing to him, but I don’t want to return to that kind of mental space, either. Being with him will remind me of it every day.
Alec rises, unable to look at me. “I’m sorry, Zara. I promise you I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
“I know. I’ve always wanted to thank the boy who helped me, so thank you. That night, you risked your…” Another realization dawns on me—something more painful than the last. “Alec, tell me the truth. You didn’t have a scar when we met. Did I … did my escape cause that? Were you punished because you helped me?”
He doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says everything, and it’s like I’m stepping on shards of glass, slicing me with razor-sharp edges.
Alec rubs a hand over his chest, something I’m sure he doesn’t know he’s doing. “It doesn’t matter, Zara. It’s in the past.”
I stand up and grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “It does. You risked your life to save me. You got hurt because of it.”
“And I’d do it over and over again.”
“Who was he? I remember you were sneaking into the room. You weren’t a prisoner like me.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he glares over my shoulder. “My uncle.”
Uncle. I don’t know what to feel anymore. It’s like one bomb after another. His uncle was the cause of it all? “W-where is he now?”
My stomach drops away at his next words. “We don’t know. We’ve been looking for him. So far, nothing.”
“You’ve been looking for him? Wasn’t he at that place where I was kept? Your home?”
His face hardens, eyes so cold that my insides freeze into a block of ice. “It was never my home. And as for your other question, we don’t have any idea where the chateau is. We might get answers there, sure.”
“How? How do you not know where it is? Haven’t you lived there for years?”
“He brought us there and took us out in blindfolds. We know it’s an isolated island. Other than that, we have almost zero information. Anyone who ever knew about it conveniently died. For all our snooping while there, none of us thought of figuring out where we were exactly.”
It’s too much. Everything feels too much—the shock, anger, pain. This isn’t what I signed up for.
“I’m sorry, Alec. I can’t do this. Not with you. Especially not with you. You saved me. God knows what would have happened if you didn’t. You got punished for it.” I take a deep breath, my hands trembling. “I feel like the worst person in the world for doing this to you, but I don’t want to remember that life anymore. Years after I escaped, I woke up screaming because of the nightmares. I … I can’t. I’m so sorry.”
The worst part in all of these is the look of understanding he gives me. I see a reflection of my own pain in his stormy eyes. He unintentionally reflects it back to me in a way that leaves me exposed and … vulnerable.
He doesn’t need to say the words. It’s there in the softness of his expression, the mask of icy rage he felt earlier at the mention of his uncle gone. He knows the chaos of emotions threatening to choke the life out of me, and he knows how hard I’m trying to keep myself together.
On wobbly legs, I back away from him and spin toward the door. When my fingers wrap around the cold metallic knob, I cast an apologetic glance over my shoulder and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Goodbye, Alec.”
“Goodbye, Zara.”
My hand trembles as I dial Mom’s number. I can’t even get my breathing under control. My nose keeps running, and my heart feels like someone just punched it repeatedly.
Pain twists my insides, making me drop to the floor clutching my stomach. I want to throw up. I want to scream. I want to dig myself into a hole and never come out.
“Honey?” Mom’s voice sounds so far away, like I have cotton in my ears.
“Mom,” I choke out. That single word hangs in the air, and I know she can hear the raw emotion, the anguish, and the unbearable ache.
“Zara? Honey. What is it? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you? I’m booking a flight asap.”