Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Murdering liar.
Only I, the girl with the horrible luck, cursed life, and overall black cloud of an existence, would be engaged to a murderer. To be fair, I never truly liked Dante. Sure, he was good looking, and it was flattering that someone like him would even look twice at me. However, there was no way I would have gone out with him if my mother hadn’t made me. I sure as hell would have never become engaged to him. Honestly, I’m still not sure I did. I don’t remember him asking me. I never told him I would. I just remember him and mother discussing our wedding as if it was a forgone conclusion and I didn’t have a say in it. When I questioned her, mother backhanded me, busting my lip with her diamond ring in the process. Dante laughed, telling me that speaking back wasn’t allowed. He took joy in reminding me that I was weak and needed someone strong to make sure I didn’t act stupid again—like getting raped was all my fault. I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter anyway because he and mother went back to talking like I didn’t even exist. After a while, it was just easier to go along with everything. My mother had spent years making me believe I was too weak to stand on my own. If someone beats you down long enough, you eventually believe it. I figured Dante was what I deserved.
“Did you hear me?”
I look back at Deanna, all too aware that I spaced out. Shit.
“Sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“And from the look on your face, they weren’t good ones.”
I shrug. I’ve learned a long time ago that I can’t lie to this woman. She has this sixth sense, voodoo therapist stuff. I’m convinced of it.
Her hand reaches out to rest on my shoulder. “You need to get back out there, Angelina. You need to see that all people aren’t evil. You have had too much of that in your life.”
“That’s not exactly true. I know that not everyone is evil. I have my cousin Emmie and Victor. They’re good people.”
“Okay, well, then I’ll amend my statement to say that you need to find more good people to fill your life. What about that guy that volunteers at the shelter?”
“Caleb? What about him?” I ask, my face scrunching up because I have no idea why she’s bringing him up.
“You said he asked you out for coffee and yet you never agreed to go out with him. Maybe you should take a chance. Learn to spread your wings a little.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I confess.
“Angelina, if you don’t try, you’re never going to be ready. You’ve been living life in a shell, afraid to peek your head out, and you’ve been doing it for way too long. It’s become safe for you.”
“You make me sound like a turtle, Deanna,” I mutter.
She laughs and then slowly shakes her head. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
“What do you expect me to do? Dating apps?” I mutter, feeling disgusted with myself. I refuse to acknowledge the fear that is trying to push to the forefront. I will not become that person again.
“How about you start with meeting Caleb for coffee—an event that would actually make you leave your house?”
“I leave the house. I had a girl’s night with Emmie, Zoe, and Melina Saturday night,” I huff, trying to defend myself.
“You’ve been doing that for months. That’s progress and I’m very proud of you. Still, you need to keep pushing forward.”
“I’m not ready. I thought the basis of our therapy was to move slowly. The last thing I need is to become a walking panic attack.”
“You’re not the same person. You’re so much stronger. Surely you can see that?”
I stare at her for a moment and want to confess that I don’t feel stronger at all. I talk to Deanna about everything. She has helped me, but she has no idea what a mess I am. I may tell her about it, but she hasn’t seen the way I break out in sweat or feel how my heart speeds up into hyperspace if I get in a crowd. It can’t be normal that I see and hear my attacker everywhere. How do I explain that? I never laid eyes on the man—or hell, maybe men—yet, I somehow see him in the face of every stranger I meet.
“I don’t…”
“Just think about it. No decisions have to be made today. You just need to be open to trying.”
I nod. I will think about it—which means I’ll probably have nightmares. I’m so tired of not being whole. It’s to the point that now I don’t know what being whole felt like.
I’ve been broken too long.