Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 328(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
“You need to leave,” I tell him, my voice still laced with sleep.
His eyes pinch together. “I’ll leave when I’m ready, thank you.” Pushing the door open a little wider, he continues, “Why did you open the door in the first place?” He looks around my small apartment, which looks even smaller with his large body filling up the space.
“I didn’t want you to wake up the neighbors,” I say, a half-lie. That’s part of it. The other part is I know it wouldn’t matter. If he wanted to get in, he would.
“Sure, whatever you have to tell yourself, bug.” I cringe at the nickname.
He used to call me Junebug when we were little as a pet name, but the way he says it now is filled with vengeful hate. It sounds more like an insult and not like an endearment that it was once upon a time.
Dropping my hand from the door, I take a step back. “What do you want, Jackson?”
“I want my sister back, but since I can’t have that, I’ll do with watching you suffer.”
All you have to do is open your eyes.
How does he not see how much I’m already suffering? Have I become that good at hiding it? Or maybe whatever he sees isn’t enough.
“Where is your bathroom?” he asks, scanning the room. I point in the direction of my bathroom, afraid that if I don’t, he’ll start opening and closing every door. Pushing past me, he waltzes through my apartment like he owns the place.
He flips on the light like he’s always known where it is but doesn’t close the door behind him. Instead, he starts opening the cabinets and drawers rifling through everything.
What the hell?
“What are you looking for?” I ask, my voice small. Does he need something? Pain meds? A band-aid, maybe?
He doesn’t answer and continues rifling through my belongings like a madman. When he finds my pink makeup bag, he briefly stops and smirks at me over his shoulder before unzipping it and dumping its entire content out in the open toilet.
What the actual fuck? My mouth falls open, and for a while, I just stand there in shock. Why… Why would he do that? Dropping the now empty bag on the floor, he takes a few steps toward me. I’m intimidated by his presence, by his size. I don’t know what to make of this situation. How did he even know where I was living?
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he leans against the doorframe. It’s a casual look for someone so menacing.
“You don’t get to cover up your scar. Everybody needs to see what you’ve done. How ugly you are inside and out.” His words are like a slap to the face, and even though there are many feet between us, I shrink back like he actually hit me.
“Fine, I won’t wear makeup,” I tell him after I compose myself.
If that makes him happy, then so be it. I owe it to him to at least do whatever he wants or do whatever eases some of the pain that I caused. I don’t really care what other people think of me anyway. The only reason I cover it up is so I can blend in better and stay off of people’s radar. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself, and I don’t want anyone’s pity.
Right after the accident, when my scar was still bright red and very visible to the world, everyone kept asking me if I was okay. Asking what happened and saying how sorry they were. I don’t want to experience that again. I just want to be left alone.
“You’ve made your point. I won’t cover my scar up anymore. Can you please leave now?” I ask, gesturing toward the door.
He cocks his head to the side and inspects me, his gaze roaming up and down the length of my body, and only then do I become aware of what I’m wearing.
The pajama bottoms cover every inch of my legs, but the T-shirt I’m wearing hangs off one shoulder and is tight across my chest, doing very little to hide my breasts. As soon as the thought enters my mind, my cheeks heat, and my nipples tighten. I’m sure he is well aware since his gaze falls to my chest, where the thin material of the fabric is showcasing my tits.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I cover up my boobs as much as I can, which only makes him smirk and draws more attention to myself. Embarrassed and completely defeated, I look down at the floor. Anywhere besides his stupidly handsome face will do right now.
“You know I turned down fucking two chicks earlier so I could come here. Maybe I should fuck you instead?” Shocked by his words, I look up again.