Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Remember, at your own pace. Don’t be overwhelmed or anything. Take your time.”
“I don’t have time.” She cut into one of the pancakes. “At least I don’t think I do. It’s all confusing to me.”
“All in good time.”
She put the bite of pancake into her mouth and chewed. “It tastes good.”
“I’m glad.”
“After therapy, is there anything you’d like to do today?”
“Yeah, I think I’d like for you to take me out. You know, give me a chance to see the neighborhood.”
“You want to try and force your memories?”
“Yeah and no. I want to see if there’s anything around here that will help. Don’t you think it’s worth a shot?”
“Anything you want to do to help you get back to where you want to be is a shot. Eat breakfast and I’ll take you to therapy, and afterward, we’ll have lunch.”
“Where’s your breakfast?”
“I ate it downstairs.”
“Did we do this often? You and me, eating breakfast together?” She watched as he looked away. “I take it that’s a no.”
“We were close. I’d like to think we were but with your mom here, I never came home.”
“Where did you stay?”
“At the clubhouse most of the time.”
“Twisted Monsters?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
“You don’t see, but it’s okay. The old you understood.”
She nodded and took another bite, not really tasting the pancake anymore.
“What did happen to her?” she asked.
“She had to pay for her sins. Karma has a way of catching up to her. If you want to take my advice, don’t mourn her.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little cold for me not to mourn my mother?”
“She didn’t mourn you being taken from us, Robin. She’s a waste of your time. Don’t allow yourself to dwell.”
She finished off her pancakes and Bear left her alone. After pushing the blanket off her legs, she swung them around, reaching for the crutch. Lowering her foot to the ground, she was careful as she lifted herself up.
“I can totally do this.”
With the use of one crutch, she got herself steady on her feet before taking the second step. She slowly made her way into the bathroom, turning on the light as she entered. She did her routine, using the toilet, washing her hands, brushing her teeth, and then rinsing cold water across her face.
Lifting her head up, she jerked back as her reflection changed, showing long brown hair and a smile, but then she was back to the short, badly cut, dyed-blonde hair. She touched her hair. She was seeing herself. It had to be.
There were no such things as ghosts. She reached out, touching the glass.
“You’re going to be my little plaything. I can’t wait for Preacher to know just how much I like playing with what is his.”
The words were gone as quickly as they appeared. The voice, though. It sent a dark shiver down her spine at the memory of it.
Wait?
Memory.
Rubbing at her temple, she tried to find more, to think of more, but it disappeared. Holding back. Clenching her hands into fists, she wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.
Returning to her room, she changed into a pair of jeans and a large, baggy, plain black shirt. She really didn’t care about the way she looked, not to go to therapy. She had a bag already packed to change into shorts and a tighter shirt.
She hated her lessons. As she ran a brush through her short hair, the photograph album caught her attention. Lifting it up into her arms, she stared at the cover of the book. It didn’t tell her anything, and so she opened it up.
The ultrasound picture was the first one and she held it close, trying to get a good look at it.
No memory. Nothing.
If her mother was such a bad person, why did she keep this?
Why did she have it?
Questions with no answers and Bear wouldn’t help her figure it out.
Turning the page, she smiled as she saw her and Bishop. They were lying down on the grass and it looked like Bishop held the camera as she snuggled up against him, but they were both laughing. She had her tongue out as if she was going to lick his cheek. She looked happy, and so did Bishop.
There were so many of her and Bishop. There was no mistaking the connection and love she felt for him.
Why didn’t she feel it now?
Did they fight?
Why hadn’t he taken any of her stuff if he missed her as much as he claimed to?
All valid questions, but when she tried to ask him about their past together, he closed up, ignoring her.
Snapping the book closed, she got to her feet and made her way to the top of the stairs. Lowering herself down onto the top step, she put both crutches beside her, and slid, slowly, step by step, down until she got to the bottom. The instant her butt got to the next step, she held on to the railing. Once she was halfway down, her father appeared at the bottom of the steps.