Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
My lungs start to constrict painfully, and I start to change my mind. This isn’t painless. I’m not slipping away. This is torture. I don’t want to die, not like this. I want to run away. I want to see the world and leave this place behind. There’s got to be something for me out there. There’s got to be more.
And I’m not going to see it.
I’m not going to experience any of it.
I have nobody to blame but myself. I should have waited, I should have thought this through.
I try to scream but swallow water, and the dark murkiness claims me as the moon drifts further away. It is consuming, drowning, there’s pressure in my chest which feels like it’s crushing me. My stomach feels heavy and my throat is burning. I need to breathe. I need to breathe so badly but I can’t keep my eyes open.
So this is what death feels like.
“Fucking breathe, damn it!”
My body retches and water gushes out of my mouth and nose. Rough fingers push away my hair and the world spins around me when I open my eyes, which blur in and out of focus. I sit up slightly, slumping over somebody’s sodden thighs.
He hits me on my back, on my chest, everywhere until I can breathe relatively normal again.
I cling to the back of his wet T-shirt as he yanks me up to a more upright position.
I’m about to ask if I’m in hell when he drags me to my numb feet with a hand at my throat and another around my bicep. My legs buckle from the weight of my soaking wet body and I feel his arm shaking, he’s tired.
We both fall and he gives up trying to lift me and rolls me onto my back. His finger and thumb pinch my cheeks painfully and he shakes me until I look into his glowing, furious blue eyes.
“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” he yells, baring his teeth, water dripping on my face from his hair and his glistening skin. “Why the fuck would you even try it?”
I smile and then laugh humorlessly. “I told you I was gonna.”
“There are so many people in the world who would love your life.”
“Trust me, Kane,” I bite out, looking him directly in the eyes. “Nobody would love my life.”
“You’re fucked up.” He scans my face as though seeing me for the first time. “You’re so fucking mentally deranged. I swear you’re so—”
“Fucked up. You just said. Like I don’t already know.” My smile fades and my bottom lip trembles. “I’m drowning. I’m still drowning. Even though you pulled me outta that water, ain’t nothing gonna change. I’m still gonna be drowning and you’re not gonna be able to save me next time.”
He pushes away from me and stands, trying again to drag me to my feet. “Get your crazy-ass up.”
I flop when I right myself, unable to muster the energy to be present in this moment on two feet, but he catches me and starts rubbing my arms with his hands.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” he questions harshly. “You want me to stop asking to see your panties? Is that why you did this?”
“Not everything is about you!” I snarl, trying to push away but my heavy body can’t handle the weight. “I guess I’m just crazy.”
“Yeah y’are.” He hugs me when I start to tremble. A tender move for him. “We need to get warm.”
“I need to never go home again,” I admit, walking with his arm around my waist. “Ever.”
“Home life hard on you?”
“You have no idea,” I murmur, wondering why I’m telling him anything at all. He doesn’t care.
The fact he doesn’t ask just shows he definitely doesn’t care.
We walk, both of us gaining strength as we make our way towards town.
My legs are like lead under my body. Every step is pure, heavy agony.
I stop and sit on a wall that edges a front yard, then bury my face in my hands after pulling my thick hair over one shoulder.
“Come on, it’s fucking late. I want to go to bed.” His tone holds frustration, but I just don’t give a damn. “Immy.”
“I’m not asking you to stay with me!” I snap, rubbing my temples to alleviate my pounding head.
“But it’s not like I can fucking leave you!” he yells back.
“Why not?” I question, annoyed that he’s still here, annoyed that he saved me even though I’m relieved he did. “Why are you always there. Why do you call me names, treat me badly, torment me, hurt me, and then save my fucking life?” With what little strength I have I stand and approach him. “And then tell me to get dressed when I offer you the one thing you’ve been asking for since we met.” I laugh breathily and place my palm against his chest. “You don’t want my panties. You don’t want me alive. You don’t want me dead. Then what do you want?”