Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
As if Gideon can hear my inner ramblings, the door to my old bedroom swings open.
“I thought I told you not to come in here.” He grunts as he strides into the room.
Boundaries would be nice.
“I thought I told you not to tell me what to do.” I can’t help but spar with him. Even if I’m stuck here, it doesn’t mean I have to allow him to treat me like a prisoner.
When he doesn’t respond right away, I let out a sigh and then look up at him. That’s when I see that he’s holding something. He turns, and the air rushes through my lungs.
My cello.
“When did you get that?” My voice is almost a whisper. For the first time since I’ve been brought here, I’m excited. Truly excited.
He looks at me for a moment. “I went to your house.” He shrugs.
“Breaking and entering is a crime.”
“Are you really going to sit here and scold me?” He smirks, finding something about this exchange amusing.
“Just thought I’d point that out.”
I guess, in comparison to the things this man has done, breaking into someone’s place is a minor infraction. Hardly a blip on his radar.
Anger boils inside me. Anger at myself for forgetting just how dangerous he is.
I force myself to stay calm. I can’t lose my shit while he still holds my cello.
“You can’t just break into my place and take things that don’t belong to you,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Would you rather I take it back?” He turns as if to leave.
“What? No,” I yell out. “Please don’t.”
My eyes fill with unshed tears, and then one slips out, trailing down my cheek. I’m losing my grip and allowing my emotions to get out of whack. I’m like a roller coaster these days. Gideon watches me with furrowed brows.
“That’s quite a reaction for an instrument.”
“It’s not just an instrument.” My hand lifts up as more wetness collects on my cheek. I brush it off. “It’s my life. One that’s been stripped away from me.”
He exhales harshly. “I know you blame me for that, but can I remind you that I’m only helping keep you safe.”
“It doesn’t feel like that when I’m practically a prisoner, Gideon.”
“You have free roam of this place. You’re fed. I brought you your cello.” He lifts his arms. “What more do you want from me?”
A valid question.
“Let me sleep in here,” I say, glancing around the room. “Give me space.”
“No.” It’s all he says, and it manages to piss me off all over again.
“You’re an asshole.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I’ve been told.” He remains quiet for a minute, seemingly deep in thought. “If you want the cello, you’re going to have to tell me why it’s your life.”
I can tell him that much if, in return, I’ll get to keep the cello. I’ve been missing it so much. I take a deep breath before speaking. Trying my best to keep my voice from shaking.
“For one, it’s the one constant I’ve had my entire life.”
“This specific cello?”
“No. I just mean learning, playing, and practicing the cello. It’s been my release. The one thing that’s grounded me when I’ve felt the ground was opening up and swallowing me whole.” He nods but doesn’t say a word, allowing me to continue. “That cello, my brother bought for me.” I close my eyes, remembering. “It was one of the first things my brother bought after getting a job.” I can’t believe I’m telling him this. It feels too personal. I fight back more tears. “I-I was so proud of him. I thought he’d worked so hard.”
A choked sob rips from my throat, and I hate that he’s seeing me so vulnerable.
I expect to see annoyance or maybe indifference, but there’s none of that. He appears genuinely invested, and I’m sure he is, seeing as though it’s because of him my brother was able to buy the cello in the first place.
“What you don’t understand is that it was just Roman and me. Our parents died when I was fourteen; Roman—he raised me from that point on. We struggled. Playing was the only thing that helped me through the grief, and the cello he gave me pulled me out of my depression. That was, until I found out the truth. The cello had been purchased with drug money, and my brother had been involved in dealing drugs.” The words are spat in his direction. The blame directed at the source. “I was devastated. I didn’t know what to do.”
Angry tears fall as I remember the desperation and sadness I felt when the truth was revealed. “I begged him to stop, but it was like he couldn’t, or he didn’t want to hear me. And then, well, you know the rest of the story.”
The room is silent and still. It’s a disquieting feeling as we lock eyes and hold each other’s stare. I hope he sees the damage he’s caused. Sees that I’m an innocent victim of his actions. It might be circumstantial, but it’s the truth. I lost my brother in more ways than one, and it’s because of this man.