Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Did you take a good look at the girl, Drew? She looks like someone you know, doesn’t she? She certainly looks like her whore of a mother, but maybe you recognize someone else there too. I know I recognized it when I saw her back in that hall.”
What the fuck is he implying? I try to push against his hold, but it’s iron. “What are you talking about? How do you know Bel’s mother?”
Then it hits me...like a twenty-pound anvil on my chest. The illness she’s been dealing with her entire adult life, according to the medical records I glimpsed on Bel’s laptop. It’s the same kind of illness my mother has. The doctors have always documented it as cancer or something akin to it.
Leaning into my face, a sickening look fills his eyes, and when he speaks his words, they shatter my existence, the existence he’s been trying to break for years. “She’s your half sister.”
No. That can't be true. No. This is another one of his fucked-up games. It has to be. My stomach twists into a tight knot. Except the eyes. The sparkling green eyes of hers that she hides with her cute little glasses. We both have green eyes; my father has green eyes. I try to tamp down the terror and heartbreak threatening to consume, but I can’t. I’m drowning in it.
No. NO. No.
I slide to the end of the table, and bile rises in my throat. This can’t be true. This can’t be…. before I can even attempt to stop it, I’m vomiting off the side of the counter. All the whiskey I drank earlier to keep myself in check and make the night easier pours across the shiny floor. It’s by the grace of God that I remain standing, that and Father’s hand still clutching me tight.
When the puke splatters across his shoes, he releases me with a curse. I crash into the wall, barely keeping myself upright. “Pull yourself together, Son. It’s sickening, I know, but lucky for you, I saved you from doing something stupid. Like getting that whore pregnant.”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I growl as the copper tang of blood fills my mouth.
I know reacting is nothing more than pouring gasoline on the fire, but I’ve spent my entire life taking his shit. I can’t bear to stand here and listen to him speak so ill about someone he doesn’t even know. The world goes quiet, and I can’t be bothered to move or try to block his attack, so I let him hit me again, his fist slamming into my already tender and swollen ribs. The pain is nothing but a dull ache. It's like I can barely feel it as I sink into myself and forget, float away, try not to focus on anything until it's all over.
After the damage is done, I’ll feel it, but I've learned that if I crawl deep inside that secret place in my mind and simply endure, it’s easier. My father’s image blurs in front of me, and I feel his fingers digging into the back of my neck. He drags me back to the counter and slams my face against the cold marble. My cheek throbs, and fire blazes up the side of my head and into my temple. Warning signals go off in my brain, but I ignore them.
“I should’ve had your mother abort you. I swear you’ve been nothing but a stain on this family since the day you were born, yet you’re the only heir I have that’s worth anything.” He digs his fingers into the back of my neck, squeezing, and then repeats his action from moments ago. Maybe this is where it all ends? I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The world around me goes silent, and more blood fills my mouth. It’s all I can taste. Without warning, I’m moving, flying through the air as my father tosses me across the kitchen like a rag doll. With blurry vision, I look down and realize I’m on the floor now, barely missing the spot of vomit.
I want to crawl deep inside my mind and hide there. Wait for this to be all over. No one can save me. Save yourself. A voice echoes through my mind. Protect them. Fight for them. Bel, your mom. Protect them. That voice gives me enough hope, enough strength to climb out of that dark spot in my mind, and even as my body protests against me, I stagger to my feet, anger overriding the self-imposed calm.
My eyes are nearly swollen shut, and my head throbs, a wave of dizziness threatening to pull me back to the floor, but I clench my fist and straighten my spine. "I can’t believe you have the audacity to call yourself a father. You’re nothing to me or her. I wonder what all your friends would think if they discovered the real person beneath the mask? If they found out you sold me to the highest bidder and pimped me out to your client's daughter just because she’s a spoiled brat who has never heard the word no in her life."