Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“You know”—he gestured toward me—“a pushover.”
“I’m not a pushover,” I lied. It was my middle name, after all.
“That grown man just told you he spent two thousand dollars on Taylor Swift tickets instead of paying you, and you didn’t even consider standing up for yourself.”
“You don’t understand,” I urged. “It’s Taylor Alison Swift. It’s kind of understandable.”
He rolled his eyes. Dang it, why was his eyeroll attractive, too?
He continued. “You’re a pushover. A doormat. A weak—”
“I get it,” I snapped, cutting him off. The amount of discomfort I found in his words was aggravating.
I felt dizzy.
Hurt, too.
Mostly hurt because I knew he was right. People pushed me around repeatedly, and I hadn’t found the courage to shove them back. Maybe because my name was already being dragged through the mud due to Cole. I didn’t need more negative press from the pizza delivery man.
The elevator opened to his floor. And before he got out, he turned my way. “They’ll keep robbing you as long as you keep your safe open like an idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say you were an idiot. I said like an idiot.”
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“I’m just telling you like it is.”
“But it’s not true.”
“It is. It’s called tough love.”
I huffed. “Yet there seems to be no love to be found.”
He raised and dropped his shoulders. “Then I guess it’s just tough.”
Chills raced over me as I stared at the darkest soul I’d witnessed in a long time. His approach and his RDF threw me for a loop. He seemed to be the type to live under a dark, gloomy cloud at all times, never feeling the sun's warmth. A vampire of a human. I wondered if he was always like that or what changed him to become that way. Who was his maker? Who was the person who bit him and changed him forever?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words leaving my mouth before I could comprehend why I was saying them.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “For whoever it was that broke you and turned you into a monster.”
CHAPTER 6
Alex
Eight Years Old
The shouting filled the cramped apartment once more, rattling the thin walls. I hated their loud arguments, especially when they rumbled into the night. Dad’s booming voice was powerful enough to shake the walls of our home.
“I can’t stand you! Do you even hear yourself? Do you?” Dad’s voice thundered at Mom.
“I hear myself just fine!” Mom shouted back.
Huddling on the living room couch, I pressed my hands against my ears to block out the noise. My knees were drawn tightly to my chest while cartoons played silently on the television screen. I should’ve been in bed but didn’t want to walk past their raging storm to reach my bedroom.
“I hate you!” Mom barked. “You’re a failure who can’t provide for your own family. You have nothing to be proud of. Everything about you is embarrassing. I wish I never met you!”
My eyes clenched shut as their words stung my chest. How could they be so cruel to each other?
“I don’t want any of this anymore. I don’t want this life, and I don’t want you!” Mom declared. “I wish I never said, ‘I do’.”
In a flash, a ring sailed through the air, clattering to a halt as it met the edge of the couch. I glanced down and picked it up with shaky fingers. Mom’s wedding ring felt heavy in my hand as my stomach twisted in knots.
Did she mean that? Did she mean that she didn’t want to be with Dad anymore?
But we were a family.
Family was supposed to stick together.
“Good riddance,” Dad spat back, his voice breaking. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t have meant that.
“I’m leaving!” Mom bellowed before storming into the living room. She froze as her eyes found me, clutching the wedding ring in my hand. Her gaze shifted from the ring to my tear-streaked face, and something inside her seemed to break.
“Alex,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. “I…” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, suddenly unable to meet my gaze. “Go to bed. I’ll be back later.”
With that, she grabbed her keys, jacket, and shoes. I hurried over to her. “Take me, too,” I begged. “Please.” I didn’t want to be left with Dad. He didn’t like me the way Mom liked me. He was always grumpy. She was happy sometimes, at least with me.
“No. Stay here. I’ll be back,” she swore. Then she stormed out the front door, slamming it shut behind her, leaving an echoing silence in her wake.
My jaw trembled as I stared at the front door, waiting for her to return inside.
Dad walked into the living room with heavy footsteps. His stare was on to the front door with a look of anger. He huffed as he glanced around the space, almost as if he searched for Mom to be there so they could partake in another shouting fest. His movements were intense as if the storm continued to brew from deep inside him. His nostrils flared with each breath he sucked in. The room echoed with his rage, bouncing to and from the worn-out couches and chairs.