Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Me: Why?
X: Because we all need help at some time or another.
Me: Who are you?
X: New rule. No more asking who I am, what my name is, or any other personal details.
Me: Why? So I don’t recognise you on the street when you come to murder me?
X: There you go with the murdering again.
Me: Can you blame me? No one will understand why I’m messaging you back. Everyone will think I’m suffering a psychotic break for not handing this phone in to the police when I had the chance.
X: And we’re back to my question. Why didn’t you?
I stared at the keyboard.
I chewed my bottom lip.
The fairy lights flickered while I sat under the moon in a puddle of absolute honesty that I’d done my best to shove away and ignore—not just since Milton had hurt me, but for most of my childhood. Sure, I’d had a good upbringing where every physical need was met, but my parents hadn’t been well-versed in delivering emotional needs.
Nana had been the only one to nurture me in that way.
But even with her, had I ever had a frank, unscripted, honest-to-God brutal conversation with someone?
Glancing at my screen again, I began to type with all the truth he demanded. Because that was the deal if we were doing this, and…I rather liked not having to censor myself. I didn’t have to second-guess or pretend or worry. I could be the rawest, truest version of myself, and if he didn’t like it, so what?
He’s no one to me.
Me: Why didn’t I? I think it’s because I like the idea of having you as my secret. Someone I’ve never met before and never want to. Someone who does bad things but hopefully for the right reasons. Someone who cares enough about a stranger to sit watching her at three in the morning when everyone else is in bed.
He didn’t reply as quickly. But I waited and trusted, and eventually, my phone chirped with a new message.
X: You asked me what I’m hoping to achieve by talking to you? I want you to see what I do when I look at you. I want you to smile instead of cry. And I want to beat the ever-loving shit out of whoever put those bruises on you.
My stomach flipped upside down.
X: Not that I’m violent or that I’ll ever hurt you. I shouldn’t have said that.
I swiped at the drying tears on my cheeks and forced a half-smile.
Me: I wish you could beat the ever-loving shit out of him too.
X: Truth?
Me: We just agreed, didn’t we?
X: I know I just said I will never approach you and you will never know my name, but I really want to know yours. I can already tell the promise to never see you in person will drive me crazy.
My forced smile turned genuine as the faintest feeling of the old me perked up.
Me: Come anywhere near me, and I’ll ensure you can never help anyone else again.
X: You couldn’t have said better words to keep me away.
Me: Good. Remember them.
X: Give me a name.
Me: What? Like you gave me a single letter? X isn’t a name.
X: It’s the only one you’re getting. Come on…I need something to call you by. Choose one. Anything.
My mind went blank as I stared at the sky. My eyes dropped to Alexander’s roofline. No lights in his windows. No sign of him awake or Jim or Josephine or any of the other neighbours on Ember Drive.
I was all alone, yet for the first time in forever, I felt safe.
I also had no idea what name to give him. I didn’t want to use my real name as whatever we were doing wasn’t real. He was a ghost who could use a cell phone, and I was the human he watched from the other side.
I like that idea.
Peering at the flowers around the garden, I tried on names for size. Orchid, Peony, Daisy, or Lavender.
Nope…
Following the patch of pansies, my gaze snagged on the three fence palings that’d always hung loose and offered a passageway from this garden to the Norths’ next door.
A memory exploded. A moment I’d completely forgotten.
Carefully adding purple to the mane of my unicorn in my Mythical Creatures colouring book, I gasped as a teenage boy wriggled through the fence.
“Oi!” I sat up from where I’d been lying on my stomach in the grass. “What are you doing?”
Alexander pushed up his black-framed glasses as his cheeks tinged red. “Oh, it’s you. I didn’t know you were visiting.” His nose wrinkled. “How many years has it been, and you still look like a weed.”
“Who’re you calling a weed?”
“Oh wow, not any smarter too.” He smirked. “You’d get on with my sisters.”
I huffed and crossed my arms, my pencil digging into my side. “What are you doing sneaking about?”