Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“I… I don’t understand…” A coldness sweeps through my bones, and inside my chest, I can feel my heart cracking. Every beat breaking it a little bit more.
“She’s dead, Willow. She is gone, and she’s not coming back. I know it’s hard in the beginning, but this isn’t our first time losing a family member, so I expect us to bounce back from this with ease. We will do the funeral and then carry on with our lives.”
The phone slips out of my hand and lands on the floor with a crack. I don’t move to pick it up, I don’t move at all. I just stand there trying to make sense of the words I just heard. Dead. Suicide. Ashton. Gone. They’re all just words, but the meaning behind them is so powerful and soul-crushing they might as well be grenades. Inside my chest, my heart cracks.
The sound is loud and makes it hard for me to breathe.
Ashton is gone… my sister is dead.
My sister is dead and I… I can’t bring her back. I can’t fix this. Everything I did was for nothing. In the end, I didn’t protect her. I fed her right to the monsters. I’ll never forgive myself, never.
Three days have passed… or maybe four? The days pass in a blur when you don’t eat and sleep like a normal person. I’m in some hotel a few towns over from Blackthorn. I couldn’t bear seeing or talking to anyone, so I’m hiding out here like the coward I am. I don’t know what I’m going to do anymore, but I do know I can’t go back there right now.
It took me a few hours to really understand when my father told me about Ashton’s death. It took me even longer to grasp what he said after that… this isn’t our first time losing a family member, so I expect us to bounce back from this with ease.
My father is a psychopath, that’s the only explanation for his actions and words. Who is so composed and unaffected by death, by losing their child?
I thought about calling Parker more than once, but I always chickened out. I don’t know where we stand after all of this, but I’m too scared to find out right now, too fragile to face him. I checked my phone yesterday right before it went dead. He texted and called a few times, but I ignored them all. Now I’m kind of regretting that I had.
My dad has sent me only one text message, and that was two days ago. He was letting me know when and where the funeral is going to be. Aside from that, he hasn’t cared to contact me to see if I’m okay.
Because of this, I hate him a little more than I did before. Scratch that, a lot more, more than I ever thought was possible. I don’t see myself ever having a relationship with that man again. If I never see or hear from him again, I’ll be a happier person.
The games, the terror, the fear, the fact that someone died… My eyes fill with tears for the millionth time. I can’t think about this now. Not ever.
The days have ticked by one right after the other, and I’ve counted them down with dread. I know Ashton’s service is tomorrow, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to go. I’d much rather say my goodbyes on my own, and not with a hundred people who didn’t care about her, standing in the room.
I feel so guilty, the shit with Brett, and now my sister’s death. It all lingers over my head, seconds away from crashing down on me. I feel like I’m in one of those old Road Runner cartoons, a large anvil looming over me, ready to squish me like a bug.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything in… way too long. I don’t even remember. I uncurl myself from the fetal position, which I’ve been in for the better part of today. Sitting up, I stretch my aching limbs. Realizing how dry my mouth is, I reach for the water on the nightstand, only to realize it’s empty. Eventually, I’m going to have to piece myself back together again, but that day isn’t going to be today.
I’m reaching for the phone to call room service when a loud knock sounds against the door. My finger grazes the phone. Wait, did I already call and order room service? Or are they just checking on me to make sure I’m not dead yet? Stunted like a deer caught in the headlights of a moving vehicle, I sit there, my eyes on the door.
The knock comes again, this time a little harder than before, and that noise is enough to get me to snap out of it. Slowly crawling out of bed, I walk toward the door. I’m a few feet away when I hear his voice.