Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“No!” I raced back for the door they’d brought me through. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was only making it worse. But I couldn’t ignore the voice in my head that shouted at me to fight.
Somewhere inside me, I knew this was different.
The other two times I’d been left here had been for less than a week.
This?
Their intentions rang out like a sentence.
Like permanence.
A gavel slamming down on a wooden block.
I yanked at the handle. It didn’t budge.
I pulled harder, again and again. My movements were frenzied as I slapped my palms against the metal. “Please, someone let me out of here! You can’t do this to me! Help!”
Footsteps pounded behind me, and a needle pierced my flesh.
“No!”
Pax.
Pax.
My brain silently shouted his name.
Willing him to come.
To help me.
To save me.
But it was useless.
Useless.
“It’s okay, we have you. This will help you relax.”
I could feel the detachment run through my veins, and a fuzziness began to cloud my mind.
Two orderlies took me by the arms and turned me around.
Through the haze, I met my mother’s agonized stare.
“Help me,” I begged, though the words were slurred.
Tears blinked from her eyes. “I’m trying to.”
I slipped along the edge of consciousness. Everything felt both too heavy and too light.
My breaths were shallow, the walls of the small room where I’d been taken closing in. The space barely large enough to contain the two twin beds.
Again, I’d been told that everything would be just fine.
How I knew it wouldn’t be, I wasn’t sure, but I did.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fully slip into sleep, why a scream lay idle on my lips, silenced by the weight sitting on my chest.
My legs and arms felt unnaturally weak. A counterfeit, false peace that pinned me to the hard mattress.
But my insides were twisted. My gut tangled and stretched tight.
Losing it earlier was likely the most detrimental thing I could have done, but I hadn’t been able to stop the onslaught of despair.
Knowing if I didn’t, I would wind up here.
I guessed a deep-seated fear had been borne of this place the first time I’d been committed.
Taking in a steeling breath, I released it with a whisper of his name. “Pax, I need you. I need you so much.”
Never more than right then.
I jerked up when a light tapping came from the door, and it was opened before I had a chance to reply.
“Aria?” A woman wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a docile smile on her face peeked inside, her brown hair twisted in a high bun.
“Yes?”
Pushing the rest of the way inside, she angled her head as she approached. “I’m Dr. Perry.”
She had on blue tailored slacks and a floral blouse, her heels short and as smart as her brown eyes.
Fighting the exhaustion, I forced myself to sitting and leaned against the cold brick wall.
A chair screeched as it was dragged across the floor, and she settled onto it. She situated a tablet on her lap, crossing her legs as she tapped into what she was looking for.
Nerves rattled when I realized she was studying my records. She scrolled for what felt like forever, although probably mere minutes had passed.
Finally, she returned her gaze to me. “I want you to know you can tell me anything, Aria. This is a safe place, and I’m here to help you.”
I could feel it radiate from her pores.
Sincerity.
Goodness.
The desire to make a difference.
I nodded, knowing petulance would get me nowhere. She would dig until she was satisfied I was telling the truth, and I knew I’d have to give her exactly what she wanted to hear.
Manipulating the system that way sucked, especially when I believed in it. Believed in the devotion of people like Dr. Perry.
They just couldn’t help me—not when I’d been created to help them.
“Okay,” I mumbled, my tongue still not fully cooperating.
“May I ask you a couple questions?” she asked as she glanced at her screen.
Worry blistered and blew, and I fidgeted with my fingers as I drew my knees to my chest. “Sure.”
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Aria Rialta.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to clear the residual of my breakdown from earlier.
“Date of birth?”
“February 24, 2005.” I failed at keeping the resentful bite from the words.
I’d only had to make it three days.
Three days.
And here I was.
She seemed to sense where my thoughts had gone, and she sighed as she shifted forward and pulled her glasses from her face. “This isn’t about taking your freedom away, Aria. This is about helping you get well so you can live a happy and productive life.”
I dropped my eyes and stared at the thin blue bedspread beneath me. How was I supposed to respond to that?
“Your parents are really worried about you,” she continued. “The only thing they want is to help you.”