Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
He hugs me tight. I want to cry but there’s nothing left. We sit in silence, only birds, the ocean, and bugs buzzing. The smell of salt and plant life is thick in the air. He breathes my smell deep and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I know that doesn’t help, but I’m sorry. I don’t know what it must’ve been like, growing up with her.”
“She wasn’t that bad—” I start, but I stop myself. I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a breath. “She was a nightmare. I was scared out of my mind for my entire childhood. I knew something was wrong with her since we were little but nobody seemed to notice, not my parents, not our teachers. Only I could see her demon, and I even managed to convince myself it didn’t exist for long stretches, only for it to come back again.”
“That’s what you called it?”
I nod, chewing my thumbnail. “She was so sweet sometimes, when the demon didn’t have her. I really loved her and I think she loved me, or as much as she could love anyone. But she had these moments where it was like her normal self disappeared and was replaced by a total monster.”
“I think I know what you mean.”
“I don’t understand it. I never could make sense of it. When the demon had her, I just tried to run away or hide, but Lucy always found me. She was clever and strong and ruthless, and I never stood a chance, you know?” I shudder and shake my head. “Sometimes I wish I’d told my parents, but then I don’t know if they would’ve done anything or if there was anything they could’ve done to begin with. Now she’s gone and I don’t know how to process what she did to me. Did I love her? Did she love me? Or was it just some sick and twisted relationship that broke me forever?”
I start to cry again and he pulls me tighter against him, hugging hard. “You’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “I know you don’t believe it and I know that doesn’t help, but you will be.”
“I just wish I could’ve asked her a hundred different things, but now I’ll never know.”
He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair gently stroking me. “I know what you mean. There are a lot of things about my childhood I wish I could understand. Like the scars on my back.”
I sniffle awkwardly and glance up at him. “You don’t have to tell me something just because I shared with you.”
“No, I want to.” He smiles and rips some of the grass from the ground. “It’s not as bad as you might think. My father and one of my uncles got into a confrontation one night while we were having a bonfire, I was around ten at the time. I tried to break it up and make it stop, but I got shoved into the firepit and fell right on my back. They grabbed me out of the flames pretty fast but the coals were already stuck to my skin. I’ll never forget the agony as my father tried to brush it away in a panic and the coals ripped out pieces of my flesh. That’s why I have the scars. And it’s why I never go near the firepits when we have them on the beach.”
“I never noticed that.”
“I’m careful not to show it, but I’m not a fan of those things, not after falling into one.” He smiles tightly and stares at the water. “It feels good to share. I don’t like talking about my family much because everyone assumes I grew up with a bunch of abusive monsters. And in some ways, they were really hard to be with, but I was loved. I knew they cared for me. I can’t guess how it felt to think your father never thought of you and your sister wanted to choke you to death.”
“It gets normal after a while.” I try on a smile and he grins back. We sit close like that until he leans down and brushes his lips against my neck.
“You’re strong, you know,” he whispers. “Look at you. You survived the nightmare, and you still came out here looking for more. There aren’t many people capable of something so brave and painful.”
“I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’ve been running away my whole life.”
“You’re not running now.” He runs his fingers into my hair and tightens. “You’re here, pet. You’re with me.”
His lips find mine. Suddenly, all the anguish, all the anger and fear, I’m able to shove it away. I can’t make it disappear—I don’t think it’ll ever go away—but I can quiet it. I can mute the sorrow.
The desire that rolls down my spine helps a lot.