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)
“You’re beautiful on the outside and the inside, Holly.” Honestly, she’s not just beautiful—she’s fucking breathtaking and sexy. If we weren’t two majorly fucked-up people, full of scars and rampant dysfunction, I’d be going out of my mind hitting on her.
Her cheeks flush at my compliment, and her eyes shift back down to her teacup. “I feel like I’m made out of glass and everyone can see…everything. Like I’m a big gaping window. They know…what that man did to me. I want to just forget it. But it’s hard when people look at me a certain way and then bring it all up, like they have the right to ask me questions.”
“Just remember you didn’t do those things. Those things were done to you.”
“I know, but…”
“I know it’s hard. People can fucking suck. They do it to me, too. They think my scars will jump onto their own skin and make them ugly. They cringe when they hear me talk. They call me a murderer, a monster, a freak.”
Her eyes squint closed as if each word I say hurts her. “Oh my God. You’re not any of those things! How do you deal with that?” Her voice is strained with compassion.
“I fuckin’ don’t anymore. Everything I need is right here. Everyone can fuck off.”
“But…what if you want to go out…like shopping, or to dinner?”
“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t go out to eat. I make my own food.”
“So you really don’t go out at all?” she asks, her mystical eyes widening.
“Nope.” I shrug. “Unless it’s dark out and I don’t have to interact with judgmental douchebags. I’m over it. Most things I need I can have delivered or one of my brothers will bring it to me. I ride my bike at night, that’s my escape outta here if I feel stir crazy. But I like it here in my little fucking bubble.”
She nods in slow agreement. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she whispers. “But sometimes…I feel like being locked away was easier. I didn’t have to make decisions or try to fit in. I knew what I was dealing with, if that makes sense?”
I nod and take another sip of my tea.
“Out here, I have no idea what people want, how they’re going to act, what they want from me. Being free is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
I clear my throat. “I get what you’re saying, sugar. You just have to find your groove.”
“What about you? Is this your groove, or are you still trying to find yours, too?”
I love how she’s not afraid to ask me questions. And I love how she listens to me so intently, like a sponge. That actually makes me want to open up to her more.
I let out a sigh, lean back in the couch, and put my foot up on my coffee table. “I think this is mostly my groove. Most days, I’m content. I can live with the choices I’ve made. That’s what I need the most—peace of mind.”
“But are you happy? Because you don’t seem very happy to me.”
Me? Happy? “I kinda forgot about being happy and just wanted to find peace. But I’m happy when you’re here with me. You wanted to make me smile, and you do. That’s not an easy feat.” I wink at her from behind my cup, because I like the way it makes her eyes twinkle. She’s a hard one to read—sometimes she trembles and her eyes go dark with terror if I stand too close or touch her in a casual way, and other times she looks at me like she’s totally ga-ga over me. Without knowing it, she twists me all up, oblivious to the way her fear knocks on the door of my hidden desires and her sweetness melts the ice around my heart and lulls the voices in my head.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I do the same for her.
“I like when you smile,” she says softly.
Today, she’s ga-ga.
“Where’s your television?” she suddenly asks, looking around the room.
“Don’t have one.”
This fascinates her; her eyes are big like an owl’s as she stares at me. “Really? You don’t?”
“I’d rather read or go for a walk.”
“I had a TV…” She shifts in the chair nervously. “Back then. I watched it almost nonstop. It got to the point where I almost thought those people in the TV were my family. I didn’t have a calendar, or a clock, or a window to see if it was day or night, so it was hard for me to figure out when my favorite shows were going to be on, so I would just sit and watch and wait.”
“That sucks.” I can’t even imagine living with time deprivation like that. What a severe mind fuck.
“Without the TV, though, I wouldn’t have had any company before Poppy was given to me. And it’s how I learned a lot of things. By watching TV.”