Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Barking out a laugh, he turns his back on me. “That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to say you’re taking me seriously,” he grunts, pounding his fist against his palm, “and you’re going to stay away from now on.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
Slowly, he turns, and somehow the blank expression he’s wearing scares me worst of all. Like he feels nothing. Like he’s empty, even while looking at me. “I don’t want to see you.”
“I know that isn’t true.”
“It is.” His eyes go cold and hard as they crawl over my body, but it isn’t River staring at me. There’s a difference. I feel it. “Stop telling me what’s true and what isn’t. I know what I’m saying. And I know I want you to go and not come back. Get it? I want you out of here, away from me.”
“I can’t —”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think you can and can’t do!” he bellows, and the sound makes me shudder and wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t want to see you! Got it? What part of that isn’t getting through? Get the fuck out of here and leave me alone!”
He doesn’t mean it. I know he doesn’t mean it. But how pathetic is it for me to stick around and insist I know what he wants better than he does? Especially when he’s looking at me the way he is now, like he hates the sight of me. What if he really does, and I just don’t want to face the truth? I guess if a person spends enough time locked in a cell, they can think all kinds of things they wouldn’t think otherwise. He might even believe he means it.
I must not move fast enough, since he barks, “What is taking you so long? Now! Get the fuck out of my sight!”
With tears clogging my throat and blurring my vision, I stumble down the hall between the rows of cells. I’m so cold inside, shaking, ashamed of myself for still wanting him the way I do. Even after he used my body, I want him. And I don’t know what to do with that feeling. It can’t just go away, not something as deep and profound as what we used to share.
I have a single mission by the time I’m on the first floor of the house: getting to my room before anybody sees me and wonders what happened. I don’t know if I could handle that. It’s one thing for Ren to humiliate me and for his screams to still ring in my ears, but showing anybody how I’m crumbling? I can’t handle that.
So, of course, who happens to be walking down the stairs when I reach them? “Scarlet?” Dad takes hold of my arms before I can get past him, and I must look like hell if he sounds this worried. “What happened? Was it Ren? Did he do something to hurt you?”
“Not the way you mean it.” I run a hand over my cheek to catch the tears that have spilled over. “He doesn’t want to see me. He told me to go and not come back.” I know this is what Dad wants, deep inside. Not even that deep, really. It’s not like he’s made a secret out of wishing I would stay away from Ren.
He pats my arms gently, even a little awkwardly. He’s not a touchy-feely kind of guy. “I hate to see you feeling this way, but you must know he’s right.”
“I knew you would say something like that.”
“And you shouldn’t be surprised you are my ultimate priority. Your safety matters more than anything. And if Ren is determined to keep you away from him, that tells me he cares just as much about keeping you safe as I do. I’m sure it’s for the best, giving him space.”
I couldn’t disagree more strongly, but what am I supposed to do? Arguing with him would be like arguing with a brick wall. I can only tell him what I know he wants to hear. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
“And who knows? After a few days, he could come around, see things differently.”
“Who knows?” I echo. I’m only saying the words he wants to hear, but I don’t feel them. I don’t feel much of anything beyond loneliness and confusion.
When I first hear feet flying down the hall, it’s almost a relief. Anything, so long as we can change the subject before I start bawling all over the place. Only when Sophie finds us at the bottom of the stairs and comes running our way, it’s obvious something is very wrong.
“Luna,” she gasps. “Where is she? Have you seen her? Scarlet, has she called you?”
“No,” I tell her. Just in case, I check the phone in my back pocket. There’s nothing from her. “What’s wrong?”