Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Okay, good! I gotta hop in before they come round us up.” She was already peeling her shirt over her head as she stepped inside. “We have recess in, like, five.”
“Recess?”
“Uh, basically, yes. I mean, I’m not sporty, like at all, but it’s way better than being stuck in this building all day. Even if it’s cold as all hell out there, I’ll take it,” she rambled, her voice blurring when she turned on the showerhead and climbed in, though she’d left the door open so I could still make out what she said.
Right. I’d almost forgotten about them taking us outside before.
“And Dylan is going to be out there, so obvi, that’s where I’m going to be,” she said.
“Who’s Dylan?”
“Ugh, the hottest guy here. But he just, like, leans against the wall by himself. He’s clearly nothing but trouble, but oh man, he’s the kind of trouble you want, if you know what I mean.”
She laughed at that. “But it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t talk to anyone. Like, anyone. I’ve never even heard his voice. Not once. So I just admire the view. And my poor panties, Aria, the view.”
She groaned after she sang it.
Warmth filled my chest.
I’d never really had friends, especially after I hit middle school, when the girls had decided I was weird and I’d realized it was dangerous to let someone inside my truths.
Not that I could ever let Jenny go there, but still . . . it felt good to have a companion.
At ten, we were ushered out back through a heavy metal door.
It was definitely a glorified recess.
There was a field of grass, a basketball court, and chairs sitting around plastic tables on a patio.
It was cold, but different from the coldness of Faydor. The air was crisp, and the sky was clear. Bright, wintery rays of sunlight slashed down from the heavens.
I tipped my face to it, relishing the warmth, terrified it might be my last chance.
A handful of patients picked up a ball and began to play a game of basketball, though most hovered around and watched. Some were detached, while others looked for a way to make connections.
A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence enclosed the entire area. On the other side of it and to the left was a parking lot, where I assumed the staff parked, and off to the right in the distance, obscured by a copse of trees, were more buildings that housed the adult facilities.
My stomach sank at the thought of being taken there. Rather than wallow in it, I studied the area, searching for any weaknesses or soft spots.
There was little chance I could make it over the fence before one of the counselors dragged me back down, though I couldn’t help but wonder if it might be worth the try.
I had to fight if there was any chance I would survive.
An hour passed, and we were paraded back inside.
Everything was regimented and controlled.
Scheduled.
Not that I minded order.
I just hated that I was being controlled here.
I hugged my arms across my chest as I followed the rest inside, and the door locked behind us with a buzz.
Yeah, I wasn’t getting through that, either.
Complaints of discontent sprouted from the group when we were led through the main room and into art therapy.
“This is so stupid,” Jenny grumbled from the chair next to me. “I don’t know why they make us do this. It doesn’t help anything.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”
More than okay. I loved it. I loved the feeling of my hand stroking over the blank paper as I scratched the charcoal pencil across it. As it grew and the lines became more defined. As the image took shape and came to life. I just sat back and let it flow.
I wasn’t surprised when pale eyes stared back at me.
As he looked at me with his dark intensity.
The meadow alive around him, so real I could almost smell it.
“‘Um, it’s okay, I guess,’ says Little Miss Aria da Vinci over here. Seriously, I’m embarrassed to even show you mine.”
Pouting, Jenny glanced between the stick figures on her paper and my drawing. Mock shame hung her head.
A small chuckle escaped me, and I bit down on my bottom lip.
Her feigned offense only grew as she touched her chest.
“What, you think you’re better than me?” She held up her picture, displaying the drawing that looked like a five-year-old had done it. “This is my best work, Aria. A real classic.”
That time, I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
Blue eyes glimmered as she grinned, and I smiled back, savoring the bond, this unlikely friendship formed in the most unlikely of places.
Smirking, she quirked her brow as she gestured at my drawing. “Bet you wish he was real. Hot damn, baby.”
I glanced back down at the image.
Pax, in our sanctuary. Sitting in the high grasses.