Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Time to go.
I glance down and say in a soft voice, “It was good seeing you, Malakai. I have to get going.”
I rush past him quickly and to my car, only glancing back once. It’s a mistake, because he’s watching me, eyes intense, small smile on his lips. I’m not trying to, but I’m succeeding in making myself a challenge for him.
That’s not a good thing.
I should probably stay away.
But holding those green eyes, watching the way they speak for him, and I’m not so sure I truly want to stay away.
~*~*~*~
“Where have you been?”
The second I step through my front door, my mother’s voice assaults me. I wish, more than anything, they didn’t call her when I got attacked. She came straight down to look after me, but now I’m having a lot of trouble getting rid of her. She seems to think I’m not safe and that I shouldn’t be going out until I know more about what happened. She doesn’t understand I already know what happened, and I know who happened. I also know I have a motorcycle club watching over me.
A small fact I’m not willing to share with her just yet.
“I was visiting Scarlett,” I tell her, walking into my small two-bedroom apartment and heading right toward the kitchen.
“Have you visited him today?”
I flinch.
It hurts me when she does this. She brings guilt into my life. She makes me feel bad for trying to fix myself. For trying to make something of myself. She knows I carry blame. She knows I’ll never recover. So she pokes the most sensitive parts of me until they’re bleeding.
“Not yet,” I say softly. “I was planning on going over this afternoon.”
“Amalie, you’re the only person he has. You owe it to him to make visiting your first priority.”
She knows nothing.
Nothing of what it’s like to go in there and hear his abuse. I get better, for a few hours, when my music takes me away, and then he rips me to shreds in a matter of seconds. His scorn. His angry words. His bitter attitude. Everything about being near him kills something inside of me.
I might deserve it, but I’m tired of it.
“He doesn’t want me there,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm and gentle. I don’t want to fight; I’m so tired of fighting.
She scowls at me. “Of course he doesn’t. Would you want someone around that did that to you? But it’s beside the point, you owe him. I’ll take you to visit now.”
I swallow, pain and guilt swarming my chest. I live with it daily, but when she’s here, she makes it so much worse. The worst part, is she supposed to be my mother. Isn’t it her job to be on my side, even when I’m wrong, even when I’ve done something that is unforgivable? She’s supposed to have my back through thick and thin. But she doesn’t. That hurts more than she’ll ever know.
“And I think you should be limiting the time you spend with Scarlett. You don’t have time to be disappearing, chasing some music dream. It was bad enough you went away for a month. You need to look for work. Settle down here.”
I exhale, inhale, exhale. “Okay,” I say, my voice small.
There is no point in arguing with her.
It’ll only add fuel to her already raging fire.
Besides, I can talk until I’m blue in the face. She won’t hear me.
She never does.
“Good,” she tells me, nodding her head. “Let’s go then.”
I exhale quietly and nod, grabbing my purse that I only just put down, and turning to follow her out the door. My mother walks with grace—she was born into wealth and even though she no longer obtains it, she lives as though she does. She moves as though she has money dripping from her fingers, she holds her head up like she has not a financial care in the world. Like she is the best. And there is nothing beneath her.
My father is a hard worker, and he covers everything she wants and needs, but it is no way near the lifestyle she thinks she’s entitled to. My dad is a good man. Loving. Kind. And I’ll never understand, for the life of me, why the hell he sticks around with her. I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but I’ll never see eye to eye with her. She’ll always make me feel like the accident she wished never happened.
We reach her car and she glares over at mine. “You know you’re not supposed to be driving, Amalie.”
I’m fully aware of that. But part of conquering my demons was getting behind the wheel again. It healed something within me. And although my hearing makes it hard and I have to be on high alert, there is no reason I can’t drive to and from basic places. I wouldn’t go long distance, but I do need some freedom.