Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
That scared me for some reason.
Even though the shower water was warm, I shivered.
Perhaps, being by myself this long had made me scared of being with another person. Maybe, I considered women like my father did, tools in a toolbox. Maybe I was scared to commit due to losing my mom. What if the ache hadn't been from Dad or what he'd done to Em? What if it started with the passing of Mom?
Even more important, one major thought kept coming to my mind.
Would I be good enough for a woman to love me?
That question made me yearn to run away. Race off so fast and not look back until I hit the ocean and then swim to the other side of the world and disappear.
What woman would have me?
I looked around the shower, embarrassed that someone could be witnessing me even thinking this way.
My arms shook.
Maybe. . .there’s a woman out there. . .someone who could keep my attention and love me. But. . .would I need that woman to teach me how to love her?
My body grew cold.
Women liked men to be confident and understand them. I would have to learn how to love them now. There was no way I would walk up on a chick and be stupid when it came to the heart.
How do I learn shit like this?
I grabbed the knob and turned on more hot water, needing to get rid of the shivers.
I don’t want to be alone.
In reality, I would never be alone. Em would be there. Now I had Misha too. But they both had people to hold them at night, to miss them when they were gone.
Do I just want someone to hold me at night? Is that stupid?
“Fuck. That bloody pool messed my head up.” I turned off the shower, climbed out, and went to the mirror. A thick layer of fog coated the glass.
I was scared to wipe it away and truly see my reflection.
It was weird, but sometimes when I looked in the mirror I only saw my father staring back at me. His dark soulless eyes, cold and unforgiving. His mouth, set in a tight line of lies. His nose, slightly crooked just like how he lived.
Sometimes I saw young Em’s face crying in my father’s eyes and it made me wonder how many other little girls he had touched and for how long.
It made me hate myself for resembling him.
Made me wonder if I had that same thing inside of me.
I loved women. Their bodies. The sex. The way they moaned. Their scent. The silky smoothness of their skin. I loved the way they moved, the way they laughed. I loved the way they smelled, the way they tasted. I loved everything about them.
However, I couldn’t help but wonder if I loved them for the right reasons, or if I loved them because I was just like him— nasty, disgusting, an abomination of nature, a grotesque being that should have been killed in the womb.
Sometimes, I worried that if I stayed too long around a woman. . .I might start getting sick and desiring dirty, nasty things.
Dad liked woman too. He married my mother and had me. I didn't have many memories of them together, but the few I did have seemed happy.
Other women had come by the house. Dad was always fucking throughout the week.
Was it all fake? Was he pretending to be normal to society while secretly craving after children?
What made him touch Em that way?
Did someone do that to him when he was a kid?
Or was it in his DNA?
And did he pass that shit to me?
Timur's voice rang in my head. “Those sins are your father’s sins. Not yours. Release them.”
I didn’t care about the Great Eagle in the sky, but I held on tight to Timur’s words. I needed that salvation.
That was Dad. Not me. I’m different. I’m not sick. I’m not. . .him.
I wiped the fog away from the mirror and stared at my reflection.
This time. . .I saw me. My eyes. My nose. My mouth. There were clear differences. Those weren’t his eyes. They were my mom’s. I assumed. I had her cheekbones and her dark brown skin.
I saw myself for the first time in years. And I didn’t hate the reflection. I saw the small bits of memory of what my mom looked like.
I do remember her face.
I saw the woman who had raised me for a small amount of years. I glimpsed the strength and the beauty that I had inherited from her.
And I filled with love and gratitude.
And the ache was no longer dull.
It was gone.
Thank you, God.
A lump of tears gathered in my throat.
Thank you, Great Eagle. Thank you, God.
I grabbed a thick towel and dried off.
I'm going to find someone to love me. Em will teach me about love. She'll tell me all I need to know.