Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Please don’t take it,” I whisper.
“Sit down,” he says through gritted teeth that make no sense to me. I do as he asks and drop his arm.
I scurry to grab my fork again, but he still won’t give me access to the plate.
“Change of plans. I’m going to tell you one thing. You can’t ask any questions after I say what I have to say, after, you will eat—”
“What? No. That’s not fair,” I interrupt.
“No one ever said I was fair. But trust me, you want to hear what I have to say.”
I let out a huff of oxygen. I don’t want to trust him, but I really don’t have any other choice. “Fine.”
The way he looks at me is unreadable. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. My stomach knots as I wait. His obsidian orbs smoldering with unspoken words that scare me.
“I spoke to your brother,” he starts to say, pausing for a brief second. A second long enough to make my pulse accelerate. “Your mom is fine. She’s staying with your brother.”
Oxygen expels from my lungs in a heavy relief filled pant. I open my mouth to ask more, but he lifts his hand, silencing me. “Now, tell me something about yourself, and after you do, I’ll let you take a bite.”
As much as I don’t want to do this now, I must. He did what he said, and now I need to honor the agreement. The thing is, that doesn’t mean I have to tell him anything important.
I think about what to say. I don’t want this man knowing much about me. I don’t want him using anything I divulge against me, so I decide to beat him at his own game.
“My favorite color is pink.”
He inclines his head, and now it’s my turn to smile. “You never said what I had to tell you.”
“Touché.”
He hands over the plate, and I go at it like a starving child in a candy store whose parents never let them eat sweets.
I don’t even come up for air until I’m halfway through.
“Tell me more.”
I finish chewing my bite. “I love to read.”
“You’re really divulging a lot,” he deadpans.
“I learned from the best.” I shrug.
I look up at him, waiting for him to ask me to tell him more about myself, but he signals down to the plate. “Just eat.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before taking a bite, and we both know I’m not talking about the food.
15
Ivy
Knowing my mom is being taken care of helps to keep me at peace. I think about her often, think about my life back home, I wonder if I was replaced at my job; I wonder what Trent told them? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters from that life right now. As long as my family is okay, I can’t let it get to me. I need to stay positive.
It’s hard though when I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. Yes. I’m getting bits and pieces of answers, but the one question I want to ask, I can’t.
Keeping my spirits up is almost impossible in this house. It’s like I’m stuck in a mausoleum.
Preserved and untouched.
Cobwebs and dust from years of neglect litter the rooms, and it’s apparent no one has frequented any of them in some time.
I need to get out of here, but there is nowhere to go. I need to talk to someone, but there is no one to talk to. I would even eat a full pie at this point just to hear Cyrus speak. Not that he speaks all that much.
I’m not stupid. He barely answers any of my questions, and he’s evasive as fuck.
It’s almost like a giant game to him, and it pisses me off. Then there was the moment with the dog.
Cerberus.
For a man who shows very little emotion, he sure did find it entertaining that his dog hates me.
If only I could wipe that grin off his face.
Turn his dog around.
Ideas take root in my brain, and before I know it, I’m in the cupboard of the kitchen. Spoon in hand, I dip it inside the jar of peanut butter.
“Cerberus!” I shout, even though it’s not necessary. For a dog that doesn’t like me, he never leaves my side. I should change his name to shadow, because that’s what he is.
Something tells me the dog that only speaks God knows what language is not going to answer to that name.
I’ll need to ask him that next time he is here.
It’s been days, and I’m running low on supplies, which means he’ll be here soon. I have to work fast.
When the dog cocks his head at me, I kneel on the floor, lifting the spoon up. Growing up, I never had pets, but I’ve always assumed or at least heard no dog can say no to peanut butter, but apparently, I found the dog.