Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I want them to feel the way I feel now: helpless, useless, out of control.
But after a minute or two, that surge of rage starts to lessen, and I can breathe without feeling like my lungs are going to explode. Normal people don’t solve problems by trashing an apartment or beating the shit out of someone. If I want to be different, I need to act differently, so my mind turns to the only other option I can find.
Dropping to the sofa, I pull out my phone and open my email app. My thumbs fly over the screen as I type out a message to the only person I feel comfortable sharing all of my thoughts with. Whether he reads them or not.
Brother,
How the fuck am I supposed to live anything close to a real, normal life after what Dad did to fuck us up? Do you ever feel that way? Do you ever ask yourself what it would be like if we had a normal father who wasn’t such a twisted, sick bastard? He put all these things in our heads, and we accepted them because we didn’t feel like we had a choice. But after a while, it all became a habit. Was it that way for you? I wish we could’ve talked like this before. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so out of my mind now.
I can’t do anything right for Leni. It’s like I have good intentions, but I’m always wrong. I want her to trust me. I want her to know she’s safe with me, but I can’t find the words to tell her. And it doesn’t matter how many times she tells me she understands, she forgives me, whatever. It never feels like enough. I can’t imagine how she could be telling the truth. Who could find it in themselves to forgive after what we did?
I just want a life. A real life. A normal life. But I’m worried there’s so much darkness in me, it’s impossible. How do I care for her like a normal person does when I am anything but normal? Sometimes I wonder if I should let her go so she could have a real chance at happiness someday… Then I remember there’s no way I could ever let her go. It’s not possible. I can’t win.
And that’s it, summed up in three words: I can’t win. Tossing the phone beside me after sending the message, I lean my head back and cover my face with my hands, groaning in frustration.
8
LENI
I just don’t understand him. I don’t think I ever will.
What does he think he’s doing, spending all that money on a car for me? Like I’m even the kind of girl who drives a car like that. Sure, it’s beautiful, but so what? Does he think he can buy my affection that way? Because that’s exactly what this is, whether he wants to admit it or not. He’s trying to buy my love because he doesn’t believe he deserves it. I’m not stupid, and he’s not that hard to see through now that I know him better than I did before. He’s not a mystery anymore.
Well, maybe in one way. I still don’t understand how he can’t accept Nix being dead, but otherwise, I can read him like a book.
Maybe I’m the one with the problem. My feet slap the sidewalk a little harder with every angry step. When I think about it that way, I can’t help but feel a little disappointed in myself for my reaction. Maybe I should just learn to accept a gesture and be grateful. He wanted to make me happy, and I basically threw his gesture in his face. It must’ve hurt.
Is this what it means to be part of a relationship? How would I know? This is my first try. My entire life was about gymnastics before I got hurt; there was nothing else. I didn’t have the same experiences as other girls do—boys and dating and all that. And it’s not like I ever had an example of a happy, stable relationship to draw from.
The thought makes me chuckle darkly. The night is cool, almost crisp, which makes me hunch my shoulders further up than I already have. Where am I going? I have no idea. I went out because if I didn’t, things were only going to get worse, and I didn’t want to be the reason for that. I’m heartsick, I’m tired, and all I want to do is go home and throw my arms around Colt and apologize for not being gracious enough to accept his gift. That was his way of reaching out to me, and I basically threw it back in his face and told him it wasn’t good enough.
Dammit, how long will it take before we get past this stage? I have to believe the time will come. Things will get easier once we’re used to being together. Maybe, with enough time, Colt will actually believe I mean it when I say I love him and that he doesn’t owe me anything. I am ready and willing to forgive what happened in the past. I would rather put it behind me and pretend it never happened, even if I know that’s impossible. It’s always going to be there, like a ghost hovering over my shoulder, reaching out to tap me at the most random times. It doesn’t like to be ignored for long.