Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Demons?” she whispered.
“So many of them.” I stroked her cheek, my gut twisting with memories of being stomped on, kicked, punched, objects thrown at me. And even more memories of having to watch the same being done to my mother. Of fighting him but not being big or powerful or courageous enough to stop him. My father wasn’t the only bully in this world, and I knew I’d come up against more like him. But next time, I’d be ready. The army would turn me into a fighter, a survivor. Then nobody would be able to make me feel like my dad did ever again.
“Oh, Rhys,” she breathed. “There are other ways to tackle demons.”
“There aren’t. Not for me. Don’t you think if there was I’d be getting on that bloody plane with you? You’re in here, Charli.” I took her hand and pressed it flat to my chest right over my racing heart. “There’s no getting you out now, and it kills me that you’re going home. I feel like I can’t breathe whenever I think about it, but me moving to America with you, it wouldn’t end well. Those demons I mentioned? They’d swallow me up, and then you’d be left to clean up the mess.”
“That’s not true. If you come with me, we can tame them together.”
Christ, this girl. She had me in a chokehold. “I wish we could,” I murmured, pulling her to me and wrapping my arms around her tight. “I really wish we could.”
Charli wept into my shirt, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Derek had been right. Charli and I never should’ve gotten involved. Not only was it threatening to break me apart, but it was breaking her, too. I felt it in the way her body wracked against mine, her sadness overflowing.
“I’ll write you letters,” I said, rubbing soothing circles into her back.
She sniffled and glanced up at me, her hazel eyes red from crying. “Letters?”
“Yeah,” I replied, my chest constricting. “Or emails if you’d prefer. I probably won’t have regular access to the internet once I start my training, but I can write to you whenever I’m at a computer. We can … we can keep in touch. You can tell me all about college, and I’ll write to you about what I’m doing.”
“Okay,” she sniffled again, some of the light returning to her eyes. “I’d like that.” She shifted a little but stayed close, my arms still wrapped around her. “God, look at your shirt. I’ve ruined it. I’m such a blubbering disaster. I’m so sorry, Rhys.”
“Don’t apologise. I’m the bastard who made you cry. I deserve my shirt to get ruined.” I deserved more than that. Should’ve bloody listened to Derek in the first place and kept my distance. Then I never would’ve made her cry like this.
A short silence fell before she broke it, “So, um, after you enlist, exactly how long do you have to serve for?”
I tensed at her question, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer. “Five years.”
Her eyes flared wide. “Five years?”
I nodded sadly. She shook her head. “That’s … that’s such a long time. I’ll be finished with college in three, and you’ll still be …”
“Yeah,” I breathed, unsure if I’d ever felt such turmoil. Not even when Dad was at his very worst did I feel this torn up inside. “I’ll still be there.”
That night, Charli and I kissed and held each other, but we didn’t go any further than that. Our melancholy was too overpowering. And when the day came when she was to fly home with her mother, I did the mature, grown-up thing.
I avoided her.
Yep, pretty shite behaviour from me. I went out running with Derek, prolonging it by an extra mile because I knew that as soon as I got back to the house, Charli and I would say goodbye. She’d go home, leaving a giant, gaping hole in her wake.
Charli
My bags were packed, and Uncle Padraig was ready to bring us to the airport. I paced in the kitchen, constantly checking the clock and fretting. Rhys had gone out running with Derek, and I feared he wasn’t going to make it back before I had to leave.
The last few days had been painful. Rhys and I had talked for a long time, and I finally understood why he couldn’t come to America with me. Once he’d explained it, I completely got it. There was something inside him, something his father put there, and it needed to be pulled out. The only way he could do that was through rigorous, unrelenting routine and struggle.
We’d agreed to keep in touch, to email and stay up to date on each other’s lives. It was a small comfort, but a part of me knew that even keeping in touch wouldn’t bridge the gap of five whole years. Rhys might get some short periods of leave, but they wouldn’t be enough for us to forge a relationship. And besides, he had his mom to look out for. It wasn’t like he could use all his time off to come see me. No, I had to be unselfish in this even if a large part of me just wanted to lash out and demand he let me keep him all to myself.