Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“You talked to her?” I sit up on the mattress in our room.
I don’t remember collapsing on it though. I only remember Ethan coming to get me from in front of the laundromat and taking me home. I realize I don’t thank the guy often. He gave me a home, a job. He lied for me and I haven’t shown him my appreciation.
“Yes. She called me and she was crying. What did you do to her?”
A breath whooshes out of me. It’s huge. It’s a gust of wind. Jesus Christ, she’s fine. She isn’t… gone. Even now, I can’t think of the ugly word: death.
“Where is she? Is she okay?”
“Well, if you call sobbing like a baby okay then yeah, she’s doing fabulous. And I have no clue where she is. She wouldn’t tell me. She also told me not to call you but I’m still doing it because I’m so mad at you,” she snaps. “So, what the fuck did you do? Did you say something to her about the treehouse? Because if you did then I’m gonna come up there and kick your ass.”
I want to distance the phone a few inches and grimace at her loud voice, but I grip it tighter at her words. “What about the treehouse?”
She goes silent for a few seconds before continuing, “You don’t know?”
I’m completely awake now. My body’s hurting like a motherfucker but I’ll survive. “What don’t I know?”
Sighing, she tells me, “Her dad. He burnt down the treehouse. He found more pictures of you and her and the day you guys left, he torched everything. They had a wake for her, Abel, telling everyone that she was dead to them. I didn’t wanna tell her but Jesus fucking Christ, she’s stubborn and I thought you guys were happy over there and that you’d, I don’t know, fuck her silly or something. But now she’s gone. Oh my God. I never should’ve told her. I’m an idiot. I’m such a –”
“When’d you tell her?”
“Uh, I don’t know, a couple of days ago. Look, I –”
I hang up on her.
Sky’s not the person I wanna talk to right now. I need to find Pixie. I have to. I have to talk to her, listen to her sweet voice. I need to dial her number but I’m almost crushing the phone in my hands. Any second now, it’s gonna break, shatter into a million pieces. I’m gonna smash it to dust with my bare hands.
I should stop. Phone’s my only hope right now. My only hope is that she might pick up my call and talk to me. My only hope is that she’ll let me comfort her.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Maybe she did. The night I was out, getting bored out of my mind without Pixie, she was drinking. She hardly ever drinks. She likes to think that she loves it, loves the bitter taste of it, but I notice her tiny grimaces. It makes me smile every time she acts badass.
It’s you and me against the world. I know that now.
Jesus. Fuck. She tried to tell me and I was busy fucking into her. I was too drenched in lust, in my need for her.
I should really stop now. It’s not really the phone I wanna destroy, it’s them: her fucking parents. They have no idea what death is. They have no idea how it feels when someone you love is gone. You can’t reach for them. You can’t touch them. You know in your heart, in your very bones that they are no more. They don’t exist. Where you saw their faces, their smiles, there’s only a void. You see the casket. You see their closed eyes. You see that their chest is not moving. Their body is lying useless.
That’s what death is. It’s black. A vacuum, without body, without substance. Without breaths.
I should dial her number and fucking pray to God that she picks up. But I never learned how to pray. My mom wanted me to but I’m like Dad. He never believed in God either.
Maybe there’s a God, Abel, but I don’t believe in Him. I only believe in myself.
Somehow, I uncurl my fingers and call Pixie. Of course, she doesn’t pick up. It hurts. It fucking hurts but right now, I need her to know that I’m here for her. So, I leave her a message. “Pixie, baby, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. About the treehouse. About everything. I’m not… I’m not good with words like you are. I’d rather hold you, kiss your tears away. I’d rather cover you with my body so nothing can get to you. But I guess I can’t do that right now, huh,” I whisper, my eyes stinging. “I fucking hate this. I hate what they did. Hate that it’s hurting you and I’m not there to comfort you like you deserve. But, baby, you need to talk to me. Gimme a chance to make it right. I’ll make it right for you. I’ll fucking burn them down. I’ll burn that entire place down, if you want. Just come back, Pixie. Please, come back.”