Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I just want to sleep and know that when I wake up—-
I'm safe.
Seven Years Ago
Snap
TIME USED TO CRAWL at an agonizing pace in the past, but everything changed when I came to live with the Marchettis, and the days just started slipping through my fingers like sand.
Is this how it should have been and how it should always be...when you're living a normal life?
Every decision I used to make was dependent on one thing.
Will it make my father remember he had a daughter?
I've always been the idiot who secretly craved my father's approval even when I knew deep in my heart something wasn't right about him.
He was the only parent I knew, and it was why each day I woke up, I hoped it would be the day my father would finally change.
But he never did.
And I suppose that's why, the first few months I was with the Marchettis, I hadn't dared to lower my guard.
A part of me had been convinced it was only a matter of time one of them would just snap and they'd reveal themselves to be no different from my father.
One day, I kept telling myself then.
One day they'd get tired of pretending, and then they'd say all the things they had every right to say.
You're not wanted here.
You can never be one of us.
You don't deserve to be Giancarlo's bride.
It was all I could think about at that time, to the point that I had started giving myself nightmares of the Marchettis literally shoving me out of the front door.
Are you stupid or what?
How fucking dense can you get?
Can't you take a hint and just go?
There were days I'd wake up with tears already rolling down my eyes, and my heart would be full of shame because everything I dreamt of was everything I feared.
What if they did want me to leave?
What then?
Would I really go...or would I end up begging for them to let me stay?
I used to think I was strong, but it feels as if just this ephemeral taste of the good life has turned me into a wimp. I used to look down on people who swallowed their pride in exchange for safety and comfort, but now I know I'm no better than any of them.
The thought of having to crawl back to my father and being at his mercy again makes me sick to my stomach, and even though I know it's not right to feel this way—-
I hate them, dammit.
I hate how life with the Marchettis has forced me to see myself for who I really am, and that's why there are times...
Just so, so many times I'm tempted to self-destruct and simply...snap.
To just throw everything out in the open and be done with it.
Just tell me you've made a mistake!
Tell me you want me to leave!
Tell me you're washing your hands off me!
But they never did.
And that's why...
I find myself pushing them to their limits.
Just pushing and pushing and pushing...
So they'd be the ones to snap instead.
Unburden
MARYSE IS ALREADY SEATED when I arrive at the restaurant, and her lips only curve when I deliberately stomp my way to her table in my knee-high neon-pink army boots.
"Happy Sweet Sixteen," the former Angel of Death says as I join her. "Or is it better if I go with Subversive Sixteen instead?"
I blink at her with my best falsely-accused-heroine expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
She eyes me from head to toe. "Sea-green hair. Lolita goth fashion. And if the reports are to be believed, you've already served three school suspensions in the past eight months."
"Whoever your source is, kill them," I say right away.
"So you haven't been suspended?"
I look at her like she's lost her mind. "Of course I have. But it's four, not three."
The other girl laughs, and I can't help but snicker when the sound leaves most of the other patrons in shock.
Maryse has been "retired" for over half a year already, and love has given her, um, a personality makeover. I would still be choosing my words with care in her presence if it weren't so.
"How have you been? How did the Marchettis celebrate your birthday?"
"I told them I didn't want any kind of celebration," I answer with a shrug, "and they respected my wishes."
She looks at me dubiously. "That doesn't sound like them at all."
It really doesn't, and that's what's been secretly keeping me up at night.
"In any case..." Maryse gives me another once over. "You look really good. Much, much better than the last time we saw each other."
I shrug for the third time, and the other woman clucks her tongue. "You're supposed to return the compliment, and I rather thought you'd know this, living with New England's most well-mannered famiglia."
"La Strega—-"
The other girl chokes at how I've openly referred to Boston's ruling matriarch.