Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Tossing the letter into the small trash can beneath my desk, I rise from my seat and wonder about my father, about Liam’s wife and how she plays into this. But this game is so much different than any other I’ve played before.
Too many pieces and moving parts, but I can’t see a damn one of them.
It feels a lot like giving up. A lot like losing. But sometimes you need to keep going through the motions, stay on your guard, and just let them think you’ve lost.
I flick off the light switch as I open the office door and stand there in the hall, contemplating where Jules is most likely to be in the house. My hand tightens on the doorknob, as I wonder if she’ll talk to me like we used to. If she’ll let me hold her. If those moments when she forgets and looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes will last longer than seconds tonight.
I’ll leave it be, if only to let them think I’ve lost and given up. I nod my head as I leave; that’s what I tell myself.
As I shut the door behind me, it feels like I truly have lost everything already.
Jules
It’s nearly picture perfect.
To anyone looking in, we’re a couple sitting on the sofa in front of a roaring fire.
There’s plenty of lighting for the scene in Mason’s living room. The light’s brighter and has been all winter with the curtains open and the snow covering the grounds. The white reflects the sunshine into the room, no matter how dim it is. I watch the flames lick along the log. This fireplace is different from the one in the dining room. It’s odd they don’t match. I would’ve changed that if it were up to me. But it wasn’t. Because this isn’t where I belong.
I’m trapped here. I’ve made up my mind and I’m done.
I swallow thickly, moving more of the blanket over my chest as Mason shifts on the other end of the sofa. I came down here to write and to get this tale out of my head. To put an ending on it and hoping I could get a different perspective, but these words that stare back at me make me want to scream. Scratching out the lines over and over, I attempt to change them and deny it, but it is what it is. There’s no changing this ending.
My foot brushes against the pad of paper on the ottoman as I turn to face Mason.
He’s working, too, but completely unaffected. If I had to pinpoint what’s caused the finality and resentment, it’s the way he continues; I hate how easily he can move forward.
I’ve heard of that psychological condition where the woman falls for her captor. Stockholm syndrome. That’s not what this is. I loved this man with my whole heart before. I can feel myself falling, slipping back into that place and I refuse to go there.
He brought me into this hell, and I want out. I need to get out.
I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. But I know I need to be alone. That’s what it comes down to. I’m destroyed, and I need to be okay alone.
I’ll never stop loving him, but I need to stop hating myself and I can’t do that if I’m with him. “This isn’t a life,” I blurt out and then look up at Mason. “I want to leave, Mason.”
He doesn’t look at me at first, but he stops typing. The quiet clacking of the keys turns to nothing, leaving the room silent but for the crackling of the fire.
When he turns to look at me, I can see the fight in him is almost gone. He’s almost given up as well. It shouldn’t crush me the way it does. It shouldn’t cause this pain. This hole in my chest, but it does.
Taking a moment to swallow, the cords in his neck tighten before he answers, “You told me that you’d give me a month.”
A sadistic laugh leaves me—one that’s terrifying and rude, one that I should feel apologetic for letting slip out, but I can’t keep up with all the lies like he does. “You and I both know it’s never going to happen.” The words come out like a knife—knives, really. They cut us both, each in different ways.
“You can’t leave,” he tells me simply and I can’t help but feel enraged.
“I’m not staying,” I state with finality and narrow my eyes at him, and I feel a side of me that wants to fight. Not like the other night. I want to fight for my life. For my freedom and for a happiness I don’t ever see myself having with Mason. Not ever again.
“There’s someone—”
“I don’t care,” I spit at him. “I can take care of myself.”