Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 717(@200wpm)___ 574(@250wpm)___ 478(@300wpm)
My heart sinks as I stare at the last text I sent him.
Annika: I’m going back home to convince Papa to accept our relationship. If I do, Jer will leave us alone. Wish me luck. I’ll miss you.
It hasn’t been read, so it’s not like he’s ignoring me. Maybe he’s still asleep. After all, it’s Saturday back on the island.
Rolling onto my stomach, I scroll through the album called ‘My Purple.’ It has all sorts of pictures of us, mostly selfies I’ve taken while he wasn’t paying attention.
There’s one picture that I love the most. It’s when he was massaging my feet that were against his chest during a bath. It was right after he tied me up and brutally fucked me. Then he carried me to the bath and rubbed the red marks around my feet. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice when I took the picture.
I zoom in on his face and sigh. Why do I suddenly miss him so much when it’s barely been a few hours since I last saw him?
“Is this the reason you’re having so much fun?” Mom sneaks up behind me, carrying a plate of pastries and it’s too late to hide the picture from her.
Thank God it’s only zoomed in on his face and not my feet on his naked chest with the bathroom as a background.
“Mom!”
Her smile immediately disappears. The tray shakes in her hand before it topples and falls to the ground with a haunting crash.
But I don’t focus on that, because something worse happens.
Mom has paled, her lips are trembling, and her whole body has stiffened.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her like this.
As if…she’s seen a ghost.
25
ANNIKA
“Mom…?”
I slowly stand up, limbs shaking, and my heart thumping with the brutality of a torture device.
My mother remains frozen in place, her hands trembling at either side of her as she stares right through me.
It’s like she’s here but not really here.
And the sight scares the shit out of me.
Careful not to step on the broken glass and ruined snacks, I take my time approaching her until I’m toe-to-toe with her.
“Mom,” I call again, louder this time. I wave my hand in front of her face.
She flinches.
I flinch.
That’s the first time I’ve ever seen my mother flinch. Papa might be the bad mafia guy, but at home, they share everything. Just because she’s soft doesn’t mean she’s weak. In fact, she can be extremely powerful if the circumstances call for it.
She’s just not the type to flinch, period.
So why do her eyes look so…dead? They’re usually the liveliest I know.
The warmest, too.
“Mom!” My voice translates all the panic that’s spreading inside me.
She jerks, blinking slowly, before her attention zeroes in on me. And it’s like she’s seeing me for the first time. As if I haven’t been her daughter, her baby angel, for the past eighteen years.
And this expression?
It terrorizes me.
This must be what amnesia patients’ family and friends feel like when they realize they’ve been forgotten. That they’re the only ones who recall every small memory, every little detail, every laugh, every smile, every precious conversation.
“Mom? Are you okay?” I speak in a brittle voice, my heart thudding against my chest.
“What… Oh, I’m good.” She breathes heavily, her eyes flitting to my phone that I left on the bed.
“You look anything but good, Mom.”
“It’s probably exhaustion from working at the shelter. I just need a moment.” She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot beside her. “Careful of the glass shards.”
Relief zings through me, but the shadows of wariness linger in the room like a third presence.
An ominous sign.
The calm before the horror scare.
Still, I sit beside her and watch her carefully, so carefully that she smiles.
“I’m really all right, Anni.”
“You didn’t look all right a minute ago.”
“It’s just exhaustion. Happens all the time.”
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you like that, Mom.”
“Guess I’ve done a good job hiding it from you guys.” She smiles, ushers me to lie down, and leans my head on her lap so she can stroke my hair.
She used to do this a lot when I was a kid, but as I grew up, she did it less and less. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m the one who wants to be an adult sooner rather than later. But I miss her touch.
The in-and-out of her fingers in my hair is nothing short of a soothing lullaby. I close my eyes, picturing myself easily falling into peaceful sleep.
“Baby angel?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me about the boy in the picture you were just staring at with a dreamy expression.”
I wince, opening my eyes. “Was I that obvious?”
“Uh-huh. You were practically devouring him.”
“I was not.”
“Was too.”
I sigh, turning onto my back so that I’m staring up at her. “His name is Creighton and we’re…sort of going out.”