Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 188957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 188957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 945(@200wpm)___ 756(@250wpm)___ 630(@300wpm)
My tears are falling now.
They are.
And I hate them.
I hate how pathetic they are. How useless and such a waste.
They’re not going to do anything. They’re not going to help.
They’re not going to change anything. They’re not going to change the fact that he was in the hospital.
For a month.
God, he was in the hospital for a month. For an entire fucking month.
And all he said about it was that he’d walked into a fist.
That’s what he said, didn’t he?
That day in his office.
He said that he’d walked into a fist and that fist had broken his nose.
But that’s not true, is it?
Because his entire body was broken. His entire body was fucking shattered.
And all because of her.
All because of Charlie.
My mother.
All because she wanted to play her usual games.
And I’ve always known about them, about these games.
But what’s more is that I always thought that it was okay. It was fucking okay that she played those games because that’s who she was. That was the world she lived in. And she had to do all those things to survive.
But this is not survival.
This is cruelty.
This is pure, undiluted cruelty.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
I’ve been so naive.
I’ve been so fucking naive to ever condone that behavior. To ever think that it was okay. For her to treat others like that. For her to treat me like that.
To ever think that I knew her.
I knew the extent of everything that she did.
I had no clue.
I never — not in a million years — imagined that her casual cruelty and her games could’ve done this.
That her behavior put someone — put him — in the hospital.
“It took me two weeks to convince him,” Mo continues, breaking into my thoughts but lost in her own. “Two weeks to push him to ask her. If I hadn’t, then none of this would’ve happened. He wouldn’t have…”
I want to tell her that it’s not her fault.
It’s absolutely not her fault.
It’s someone else’s. It’s my mother’s and those assholes.
That school. His father.
This fucking town.
It’s their fault, not hers.
But words won’t come out of my mouth. They feel tangled up and jumbled in the wake of truth.
Sniffling, Mo wipes her tears, her voice stronger now. “The only consolation was that he moved away after his sophomore year. It’s the Marshall family tradition, sending boys out to a boarding school. So at least he was away. From this town, from all the people. And when he came back, he was a different man. He was stronger, for lack of a better word. At least in his body. He’d finally hit his growth spurt and he was… yeah, stronger. Harder too. He’d seen too much of the world, lived too much of it too. And well, now he lives here. At the same mansion, in the same town. Because I think according to him, it would be a sign of weakness. To not live in a place where generations of his family have lived. To not do what his father and grandfather did. To do it better even. I don’t think he likes it very much though. I don’t think he’s happy here. Who would be, after everything that has happened? But he won’t admit it. I wish he would. Because I miss that little boy. I miss that he was so sweet and shy and easy to smile, despite everything. He was so easy to please too. Books and cherry pies.”
Books and cherry pies.
That’s him.
That’s Alaric.
And I think that Alaric is hidden somewhere inside Mr. Marshall. He’s hidden behind all the violence and all the rage.
All the hate.
“Books and cherry pies,” I whisper through my tears.
“Yes.” She smiles before going on, “But I want you to know, Poe, that this is not an excuse.”
“Excuse?”
“For the way he’s treated you.”
My heart twists. “I’m —”
“No, listen, he was thrown this curveball, when he was named your guardian. I don’t think he handled it well. He doesn’t hate you, Poe. He never did. He only hates what happened to him and you bore the brunt of it.”
I don’t. I never did…
At Mo’s words, I hear his.
The ones he spoke only a few days back when I’d asked him to tell me a secret, but now feels like such a long time ago.
He doesn’t hate me.
That’s what he meant, didn’t he?
That he doesn’t. He never did.
Oh God, he never hated me.
“But that doesn’t mean that what he did was right,” Mo goes on. “What he keeps doing. So I want you to know that there’s no reason for you to blame yourself. For what you did today. Was it wrong, yes. Was it taking things to the extreme, yes. But you were pushed into it. You both were. I told you all this because I want you to understand. I want you to know and not wonder why. Because I know you do that. And I wish…” She shakes her head. “I wish I’d told you sooner. I wish I’d made you understand so probably none of what happened today would have happened. And I also want you to know that in the light of these events, I’m putting my foot down. I am, Poe. I know he won’t like it because he thinks he’s the boss of everything and everyone. But I’m making it clear that he needs to let you go.”