Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
We walk a little farther in blissful silence. She doesn’t try and say or do anything, she simply walks. For a while, I enjoy the control. But, I should know she isn’t going to just lie down and take what I’m dishing out. I haven’t known her long, but one thing I have learned about Charlie is that she’s like a dog with a bone. Take that bone away from her, and she’s going to get very, very pissed off. Her bone is her spirit. She refuses to let it be crushed.
Without warning, she reaches out with her free hand and quickly snaps a stick off the bushes scratching into us as we move down the path. Then, very quickly, with precision and skill, she swings it around behind her and stabs into whatever bit of flesh she can find, which happens to be my fucking ribs. Letting out a feral growl, I release her hand and she spins around quickly, holding the stick out at me while her other hand unties the bandana. She drops it to the ground.
“Do not ever do that again,” she warns. “I don’t like being told what to do.”
Fucking feisty little bitch.
“And I don’t like smart-ass, arrogant women not doin’ as they’re told.”
“Then it would appear we have a problem.”
I cross my arms, and my ribs burn from where she drove the stick into them. That’ll fucking bruise tomorrow.
“Then we have only one choice: you stay out of my way, I’ll stay the fuck out of yours.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then nods sharply. “Sounds great to me.”
“Fan-fuckin’-tastic. Now walk.”
She gives me a narrow-eyed look but turns and starts walking, shoulders tense, no doubt waiting for me to dish out my revenge. I don’t, because my anger is bubbling, and I will do something I’ll regret. So, instead, I follow her until we reach a small clearing with a cabin sitting in the middle. Been a while since I’ve been up here—a few of us used to come up on the weekends, before things with the club got tense.
“This is,” Charlie begins, then glances at me, “really nice.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, striding past her and walking up the two small front steps and onto the wrap-around deck.
I pull a key out of my pocket and unlock the front door. It’s a bit dusty, considering it’s been a while since anyone used it, but as soon as I step inside, I see it’s been cleaned. Malakai did say he had it stocked. Guess he forgot to clean the outside while he was at it.
I flick on the main light, and the inside lights up, making it easier to see.
Charlie steps in beside me.
“Oh, wow.”
The cabin is beautiful, I’ll give her that. One large bedroom and a pull out in the couch, polished wooden floors, a huge timber kitchen, a fireplace, a big open living area, and all of it well designed with some fancy ass furniture and rugs. I walk in farther, muttering, “You can take the room. Second to the right.”
Charlie is too busy looking around, running her fingers over the walls and the furniture, to hear what I’m saying.
Anyone would think she’s never seen something beautiful before in her life.
Which boasts the question, how hard was her life, truly?
An answer we’re all seeking.
No doubt.
~*~*~*~
THEN – KODA
Not again.
I drop to my knees, lifting my brother’s head into my arms. His face is the same as mine, like looking into a mirror. Only his cheeks are sunken, his skin gaunt, his eyes no longer the color of honey but the color of dirty water. Drugs. I wish I knew when it started, or how he let it get so bad, but I don’t. It just came on me like a hurricane; one minute he was just going out partying, the next he was suffering mood swings and isolating himself.
I should have known.
But we’re young, just starting out, both of us are leading our own lives. We no longer live in each other’s pockets like we did when we were boys. How was I to know he was using so heavily?
I should have.
That’s just the simple answer.
I should have fucking known.
He’s my brother, but not only that, he’s my twin.
I feel him in a way nobody could ever understand.
I should have been looking out for him.
“Brax, wake up, come on. Wake up, man.”
I shake him a little, but his head is flopping. He’s sprawled out on his bed. Luckily, I had the sense to come by his apartment and check if he’s okay. He’s not, and panic grips my chest. Why the fuck is he doing this? What the hell happened to him to make him this bad? We had a good upbringing, we had good parents before they passed away a few years ago, everything was good.