Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
She watches me with those imploring eyes again, and I’m surprised I don’t flounder and burn under their weight.
I’m surprised my chest doesn’t rip open and confess everything to her right this instant.
When she speaks, her voice comes out gentle. “Cecy, honey, it’s okay if everything’s not great and if some days are worse than others. You know that, right? Your papa and I are here to listen.”
I choke on the unsaid words that burn in my throat, but I nod. “I know.”
Papa snatches the phone, and that knot gradually disappears as we talk until they eventually hang up.
Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
My cancerous, damning thoughts.
I hate how much they consume me lately, how being inside my own head is torturous and how I find myself there more often than not.
Still, I force myself to get up in the morning, wash my face, eat, and go to school.
I force myself to study, to go out with the guys, and take comfort in the idea that I’m alive.
If I don’t, I’ll be caught in a loop of my own making that no one will be able to save me from.
I’ve been trying so hard to come to terms with my actions, my choices, and how low I’ve fallen—and keep failing miserably.
Maybe it’s a pride thing.
Or a morals thing.
Though I’m not hurting anyone. No one but myself, at least.
I get up from my desk and close my book. I’ve been using the small office in the shelter I volunteer at as my hiding space.
That and the library, where I can read in peace and no one can bother me.
I spend about half an hour feeding the animals, and then I call it a day.
Mostly because everyone went home and Dr. Stephanie, the doctor in charge of the shelter, basically kicks me out.
We walk out of the building together and she stops by her car and retrieves her keys. “Do you want me to give you a ride?”
“No, it’s fine. I could use the walk.” Walking to and back from the shelter is the only workout I get, which is why I don’t drive here in the first place.
A slight frown appears between her brows as she casts a quick glance at the night staking its claim behind me. “Be careful, okay? It’s dangerous for a young lady to walk on her own.”
“Will do, thanks.”
“Text me when you get home.”
I give her a thumbs-up and a smile, but the crease doesn’t disappear from her brows as she gets into her car.
It’s not the first time I’ve gone home alone after sunset. And it’s not really that late.
Anni and I volunteer here, but she never stays after four p.m., and if she does, the place is filled with her security, so she saves everyone the trouble and leaves early.
As for myself, I’m just glad to get more time away from the world. At least animals show their silent support without judging.
After throwing a mint gum in my mouth, I check my texts and pause at the ones from my friends in the girls’ group chat.
Annika: Jer is locking me up in the ivory tower again *crying emoji*
Ava: OMG want us to put on our Superwoman capes and come save you?
Annika: Not unless you’re ready to be locked up with me.
Glyndon: So sorry, Anni. Your brother is really scary.
Ava: But we can take him! @Cecily Knight let’s kick his misogynistic, sexist, patriarchal arse.
My fingers shake and it takes everything in me to type.
Cecily: I have to study for a test tomorrow.
Ava: Boo. You’re always studying.
Cecily: A little thing you should be doing sometimes since you’re at uni and all.
Ava: Kay, Mum!
A dark shadow moves in my peripheral vision and I freeze, but I don’t look behind me.
Instead, I slide the phone into my back pocket and inhale deeply before I continue on my way.
There’s no change in my pace or my breathing, but I can feel the stiffness in each of my muscles.
I can smell the air that’s mixed with the scent of the trees and the salt of the sea.
My heartbeat picks up, too, gradually, almost like I’m ascending stairs and exerting more energy as time goes by.
The books in my hands are heavy, and I tighten my hold on them as if these ancient, long-dead psychologists could materialize in front of me or protect me.
Though I don’t need it.
Probably.
Fact is, this isn’t the first time I’ve had this feeling, or the second.
Or the tenth.
It started a week or so after the most shameful night of my life.
I’ve felt eyes on me since.
Watching me, following me in the dark, utterly and completely shadowing me.
Maybe it was there long before that, but I only started noticing it about three weeks ago.
Probably after he made himself noticeable.
For instance, the discreet shadow from now is nothing more than a twisted and cruel homage to that night.