Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
“No,” I reply. “He’s my brother. He would never hurt me.”
“What’s going on?” Zac demands, his defenses rising.
“Nothing, Zac,” I glance back at the girl, wishing she would just go away and mind her own business. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”
Her eyebrow rises. “You sure about that?”
The couple at the table next to us leans close to each other, their eyes darting over at us as they whisper. About me, most likely.
“Yes, I’m positive. Thank you.” I force my millionth fake smile.
Suddenly her face changes, going from suspicion to shock to pity. “Holy shit.” She lowers her voice to an excited whisper. “You’re that girl who was found in the hole out in the woods, aren’t you? You’re little Holly Daniels. I read about you.”
I meet her eyes and put on my best look of defiant confidence. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” There. I did it. I deflected her. I don’t owe anyone anything. I focus all my attention on removing the paper from my muffin as she gets up and walks away, mumbling to herself about assholes and denial.
“What was that all about?” Zac still looks confused.
I shrug, wanting to move on and not make this outing any more uncomfortable than it already is. Since I was found, my family has had to deal with this kind of attention from random, nosy people in both public and private ways. I was mostly shielded from it, being at Merryfield, and I wonder if that’s part of the reason my parents sent me there. Not just for the therapy, but to hide me away.
“She saw the burn scars on my arms and thought I was hurting myself or had a boyfriend that was hurting me, I guess.” I sigh. “Then she recognized me.”
“Jesus.” He shakes his head. “People just don’t know boundaries sometimes.”
“It’s okay. I forgot to pull my sleeves down.”
He dumps a packet of sugar into his coffee, his jaw clenching. “You shouldn’t have to wear long-sleeved shirts all the time. People should just shut the hell up and be respectful of others.” He’s angry for me, and I hate to see him this way. He’s a very calm, soft-spoken guy most of the time, and it bothers me that being around me makes him mad.
I reach over and touch his hand, which is stirring his coffee with a fierce briskness. He stops and glances up at me with a look of surprise on his face. I never initiate touching, and I pull away quickly. Reaching out to him felt like an impulse, almost an involuntary reflex. Maybe it means I’m starting to trust. “It’s okay, Zac,” I say softly. I rub my hand against my thigh, still feeling slightly awkward about touching his hand. I’m brimming with so much I want to say, but it’s like there’s this cork inside me that keeps me from letting it all out. I want to tell him how scared I am that I’ll never feel normal. That I’ll never feel like part of the family. That I may never have a relationship. That people will always look at me like I’m damaged and dirty. I want to tell him I’m sorry he has to deal with the questions and the stares sometimes, too. “I really don’t want to talk about it but…people recognize me, they ask questions. I have to get used to it.”
“I don’t know how you don’t scream at these rude-ass people.” Zac busies himself spreading butter from a tiny plastic cup onto his bagel.
“You screamed. You know what that means. You scream, you get burnt. You pull away? The dog gets burnt. Get it through your fucking head.”
I shake my head, momentarily afraid to speak.
“So, how was your visit with Mom and Dad?” he asks.
I focus on my brother’s face and wait for the memory to fade back into the dark hole it seeped out of. “Good. The same.” I take the lid off my latte, peer inside, and put the lid back on. “Thank you for letting me stay in your room, it really came out pretty.” He nods, and I continue. “Mom and Dad were nice…but they didn’t talk to me much at all. It felt like they were only seeing me because they had to, not because they wanted to.” He nods again, and I pull a blueberry from the soft, yellow fluff to examine it. “I don’t know, I’m still just trying to fit in. Feather has taken me shopping and out to eat few times, but she usually spends most of the time we’re together typing on her phone. I tried to spend some time with Lizzie during the visit, but Mom acts a little crazy about it, like she doesn’t want me near her.”
He chews his bagel and swallows. “That’s because she told Lizzie, a few years ago, you were an angel in heaven. Lizzie thought you were dead, and now here you are, alive and well.” He says it matter-of-factly, without easing into it.