Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
I was desperate.
“Why do you think that?” I asked him.
“Because there is nothing… on this planet that can contain me.”
Big fucking words from someone still struggling to sit up. It was hard to reconcile him with the force of nature that he was in that incredible charcoal suit performing some kind of miracle.
Now, I just saw him more as the grouch who had laid in my bed and eaten a whole big bag of Cheetos.
And like he sensed my negativity, he narrowed both eyes at me. “There isn’t,” he insisted.
He closed his eyes, and his features eased, and I sat there and thought about his words for a while. For enough time that I was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep from the steady rhythm of his breathing, but then he made the mistake of cracking an eye open… and caught me staring at him.
“What are you… doing?” The Defender deadpanned, back to irritated.
I shrugged, crawling over to sit on the opposite side of the room against the wall. I’d already tried lying on my back and on my side, and both positions were uncomfortable. Every way was going to be uncomfortable on this floor with my ribs bruised, but there was no use crying over it.
“I’m trying to figure out just how the hell we’re going to get out of here before I end up with brain damage or long-term physical illness from starvation.” I wasn’t going to tell him how slim my hopes of that were regardless of his assurances.
He huffed and closed his eyes again, dismissing me. “We’re getting out.”
So he said. I pressed my lips together.
The Defender took a short sniff as he settled against the floor like it wasn’t hard as a rock. “Don’t start snotting up. I don’t like the way… your tears smell.”
“I’m not going to cry,” I muttered in English.
Those bright purple eyes flashed briefly before he sighed. “Thirty-five.”
He was thirty-five? “Huh,” I muttered in pure surprise. I really wanted to ask why he was talking to me all of a sudden, but I didn’t want to ruin it. “You look younger.” Maybe it had been the sunburn on his face before, because now that his skin was less red, it was hard to believe he was thirty-five.
The Defender made a face that said he knew he did. A minute or two later, he spoke up again. “Your parents… that’s why you don’t have friends?”
We were still talking about this? I was already tired of talking of it, but fine, if we were actually being truthful, I could play, even if it felt so, so wrong. “Yeah. What kind of life would I be able to live if anyone found out? I told people my parents died in a car accident, and even then, it brought way too much attention. Even before they took the money, my grandparents didn’t want anyone to know the truth.” That was one of my oldest memories, them telling me to keep it a secret. To tell people that my mom and dad had died. We’d practiced. I hadn’t even known back then what death was.
I got a sniff and a very thoughtful expression that honestly surprised me.
“Are you and The Primordial together?” I asked him in a rush in Korean, without thinking.
The look of absolute disgust that came over his features would follow me for the rest of my life. “Fuck no.”
That was almost disappointing. And him using the f-word was still surprising. Double standards were real.
Then it was his turn to change the subject. “What happened to them?”
“I have no idea.”
He didn’t believe me. “You don’t know?”
“Not for sure. I didn’t really get a chance to ask them when they ignored my existence. I know they ran away, and every time we watched the news and body parts were found, I thought that maybe that was them. I’m pretty sure they aren’t alive anymore. I told you, I read a letter that my mom somehow got to them. I think through an aunt or something. We always had PO Boxes at post offices hours away from every place we lived; that had been my grandpa’s idea. Anyway, my mom thought they were going to be found and she was scared. She didn’t apologize, but it was written in a way that made me feel like she wanted them to help her or something. They didn’t. I think they didn’t want to put me at risk.” For one split second, I did what I never allowed myself to, and thought about what else I’d read in that short letter. Then I wiped it from my mind like I had every time before, and went on with my life.
“One day, a couple months after the letter arrived, I overheard my grandparents cry like someone had broken their hearts, all night, every night for weeks. They tried to hide it from me, but I knew they were upset about something and wouldn’t tell me what. I’m pretty sure they somehow found out something had happened, but I don’t know for sure.” I understood that some part of me should have been devastated—they were the reason I was alive in the first place—but I didn’t remember anything about them. It was like hearing a celebrity had passed away. I had no emotional connection to the two people who had only caused so much heartache in my life. I’d used those super-sharp imaginary scissors a long time ago and cut them out of my life.