Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
What doesn't make sense is doing it now, after I've already walked away from her and have no real reason to go back to her. The attack was obviously planned, and I don't doubt it was a paid-for warning, not done by someone willing to get caught in the act of beating someone senseless.
Instead of going back to the Preston Estate, I pick myself up off the ground, swiping at the blood on my lip as I hobble to my car. There'd be no way for me to make the trek back to Tennessee on the bike, and I have a feeling this is bigger than just a beating for what has happened between Cora and me.
Also, I know how intense my feelings are for her, and this isn't something I feel like I can navigate on my own.
It's time for me to eat crow, and although I'm not looking forward to it, I'll chew that shit for the rest of my life if I can ensure that Cora is safe.
Chapter 32
Cora
It seems like the sadness is even harder to handle with him being gone. There's nothing that will serve as a distraction for me today, and I think that having him come here with me from California was a mistake. It was a bandage, not a solution, and after spending even more time with him, I feel an even greater loss with him gone.
I've avoided opening my eyes despite being awake for at least fifteen to twenty minutes. I can feel the pain behind my eyelids, and I know this morning will be no different from the others. Since getting back home after hearing the horrible news about Sadie, I spend every night chasing after her in my dreams, reaching out to her, and losing her right before I'm able to pull her into my arms and keep her safe.
I can't count the number of times I've woken with wetness still on my cheeks.
Last night, my nightmares changed and it was Eddie I was reaching for. He taunted my inability to catch him the exact same way Sadie did in my dreams.
Sadie's taunts have always been a reflection of memories from chasing her around the yard when she was little. Even her voice in my dreams is childlike and playful like it was all those years ago before her behavior changed. I know my subconscious is trying to cling to a version of her that fits easiest into my grief, but when I wake I know better.
I know my sister was not an innocent child who made good decisions and had others' best interests in mind. I know she was troubled and caused problems just to watch people react. I know she did those things because she ached for attention and didn't really know how to ask for it. It's possible she didn't have enough of a grasp on her reality to know what she was missing in life.
Regardless of why and how she acted, she didn't deserve to die, and now that I know William wasn't involved, I want to know who hurt my sister. Who despised her so much that they took it upon themselves to hire someone to kill her?
Did she make the wrong person mad?
Did she threaten to share a secret that could ruin someone's life or career?
I know this to be a specialty of hers because she threatened it with us as often as we would tell her no when she came around asking for money.
It doesn't absolve my guilt in the slightest, but I'll seek to find out who hurt her until the end of my own days if that's what it takes.
As I predicted, my eyelids feel like sheets of sandpaper against my eyes when I manage to open them.
I know I have to face today just like I did that first day after being told about Sadie, only this time I have to do it with my distraught little brother. I would take all of his pain if I could, but since that isn't possible, I know a good breakfast will help ease that same ache in his soul.
I shower and wash my face twice before dressing for the day and heading downstairs.
I'm surprised to see Christopher already in the kitchen sitting at the bar with an omelet sitting in front of him.
I know that Faye had to have made it for him because the man has never figured out how to cook without causing a small fire. I worry about him at school, but he always assures me that the food they have on campus is decent enough that he won't die from eating it.
"Hey," I whisper when I approach.
His eyes are as red as the ones that stared back at me in the mirror not long ago.
"How are you holding up?"