AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I had to turn it off before I smashed everything around me. Now I’m just staring at the polaroid picture I took of her as if it’s the most treasured thing I own.
And well, maybe it is.
I hear a small scratch at the bedroom door, already ajar. It creaks open and I spring upwards, reaching for my gun on the bedside table.
A furry head pokes through and I realize it’s Lenix’s cat. I leer at it, but I can’t find my usual disgust for the animal as I watch it saunter into the room like it fucking owns the place. To my horror, the little demon jumps on the bed.
“What do you think you’re doing? Your mom isn’t here okay? Get out.” I point to the door, but it just watches me.
Ignoring my demands, it creeps even closer to me and I can hear it purr loudly while still eyeing me down.
Why the fuck is it doing that?
It curls right next to me, settling into the crook of my arm as if we’ve cuddled up a million times before, its paw stretching out and resting on my chest.
I’m too fried to find the energy to care that the damn thing is invading my space. Falling back into the pillows behind me, a burst of Lenix’s scent wraps around my senses, and I groan in frustration.
I decide to focus on the only thing I have of her right now and tentatively scratch the cat behind its ears. It purrs even louder, causing the sound to reverberate through my body, nudging the back of my hand like it's asking for more. So I comply.
My heart squeezes with an ache I’m still struggling to define, and I exhale roughly. “Don’t you worry, little devil,” I hear myself say. “We’ll get her back.”
Chapter 41
Iregainconsciousnessslowly.
I’ve been in and out, slipping into memories from so long ago, I wonder if I’m dead.
But eventually, my senses slam back into me. One by one, they tell me where I am… and maybe death is the better option if it means not having to facethis. I keep my eyes closed but the smell of the room threatens to swallow me whole. When I can’t bear to pretend any longer, I open them.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear so potent before.
Not when I watched my father bleed out in front of me. Or when I hallucinated Connor’s blood on my hands.
I clamber out of bed, familiarity mixed with equal shock and disgust at seeing the same beige walls I used to stare at all those years ago.
The paint still cracked. The room still smelling faintly of mold.
My knees buckle underneath me and I crumble to the floor. My hand slaps over my mouth, keeping the shocked gasp from ever leaving my lips.
This isn’t happening.
I’m dreaming. It’s just a dream.
Moments from now, I’ll wake up in Connor’s bed and sigh in relief.
But even in my terror, I know my hope is futile.
As if these past thirteen years never happened. I’d merely slipped into a catatonic state and finally woke up from the fabricated life I’ve perfectly crafted in my head.
How else would I have escaped?
I was destined to suffer this fate.
The only thing keeping me grounded in the present are the clothes on my back. I hold on to whatever shred I can while my mind slams against the decaying walls of this jail cell.
It’s what it should be called.
It felt like a prison then too. I simply didn’t have the words to describe it yet. Left to stare at these walls for days while the men roved freely about, never subjugated to any of the archaic shit the women were put through daily.
