Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
My heart does that thud again, and I have to loosen my grip on the thin curtain and let my head fall back against the headboard.
He’ll only ever be at arm’s length, so this power he has over me, this innate emotion he controls inside of me, can’t be good.
The idling stops, fading into the sounds of the night and that warmth and soothing feeling disappear with it. It’s sickening that something so small could garner so much emotion from me. As I reach for my book, I see my phone out of the corner of my eye.
I don’t have a fucking clue where I left off. My fingers run along the edges of the pages as if my memory can lead me to the right page, but all I can focus on is the phone.
Shoving the book off my lap, I reach for it.
The cops didn’t come to question me. I text the number I know is Sebastian’s. He’s never explicitly said it was him and usually he texts me, but I know it’s his number. I want to tell him he can resume pretending I don’t exist.
When he doesn’t reply, I skim through the previous messages.
The first one reads: You did good today. He sent it a few nights after the infamous kiss. The night I first slept peacefully in this house after my uncle took me in.
Who is this? I asked, but he never answered.
When I first moved in, my uncle didn’t have a spare room ready for me. We’d had to clear out the cluttered room he sometimes used as an office. Almost all of my mother’s things had to be thrown away in the move. Same thing with some of my possessions, not that I had much. This townhouse was already full, and I wasn’t even sure if I was staying here for long. No one told me anything. No one but Sebastian in a nameless text.
The phone pinging in my hand scares the shit out of me, spiking my adrenaline and forcing my heart to race up my throat. I nearly slam my head back against the headboard, but somehow manage to calm myself down.
The memories of the week my mother died have always haunted me. That week brought awful nightmares, ones that have come back in full force now that the past is being dredged up.
It’s only Sebastian, I tell myself and breathe in deeply, calming every bit of me, although the task feels even more impossible than staying awake long enough to see what he’s written.
How are you sleeping?
It’s fitting he would ask that just as I rub my eyes with the palm of my hand and feel the sting of the burning need to sleep.
I chew on my lip, my fingers hovering over the screen. I don’t want to lie to him here, not on the phone; I don’t want to taint these messages that mean so much. After a moment I tell him the truth and see exactly what I expect in return.
Not well.
Have you been drinking your tea?
The vial is on my nightstand, staring at me as if I’m to blame for this shit. I nearly took it last night, but I don’t do drugs. Not any sort. I’ve seen what addiction can do. Although I’ve also seen what desperation can do. And I’m desperate for one night where I close my eyes and I’m not haunted by memories of the past. I was doing so well for years. Her murderer being found is what set everything off. And the nightmares have come back with a vengeance.
Take it. His message sends a chill down my spine. It’s as if he can hear my thoughts.
It takes me longer than I thought it would to write him back. Mostly because I don’t know what his answer will be, but I know what I want to read.
If I take it, will you leave me alone? I text him and then grab the vial. I don’t have a cup of tea handy, but I have a glass of water. Without even thinking, I put one drop, then another, then the third.
I watch the liquid swirl as I wait for his message. The other night I thought it was clear, since in the tea I couldn’t see its color.
But it’s pink, a pale, pale pink that quickly disappears in the water.
Before I take a sip, I check my phone only to see he hasn’t responded. The lip of the glass feels cold as I bring it up and take the first gulp, wondering what it will taste like.
It tastes like nothing at all. Maybe a tinge of sugar. Just a faint hint.
I’m still considering the taste when the phone goes off on my lap. You need to sleep. How typical of Sebastian to respond without answering my question.