Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I shoved away, backing up a few steps.
She was here.
In my apartment.
Here.
Panic was starting to build, but it was moving slow. The shock was stifling it. I could feel it crawling up my body, and it was painful. “How did you get in here?”
“Your roommates.” She gave a harsh laugh, going into my kitchen.
She went to the cupboard where I keep my glasses and pulled out a box of mac and cheese. “Seriously? This is what you’re filling your body up with?” She gave me a once-over, half sneering before tossing the box down on the counter. “I raised you to do better than that. Come on.”
She was going across the room when it clicked then what just happened.
“Let’s go to a bar—”
I tuned her out, opening that cupboard. This morning, it had been full of my glasses, cups, mugs, a couple wine glasses. Right now, all food. Food that I didn’t buy, but it was there. The mac and cheese, not what I bought.
I went to the other cupboard, and it was the same thing. My plates and bowls had been there this morning, and now, she had towels and washcloths in there.
“Where’s my stuff?”
“Oh yeah.” She was going for my bag, taking it to the couch. “I rearranged a few things. If you’re going to keep that freshman fifteen off you, you shouldn’t even have dishes or cups where it’s easy to grab. Food can go anywhere, but the dishes to eat the food, that’s the genius of the dieting.” She paused, starting to unzip my bag, and looked me over again. “You look good though, not too many extra pounds, but you should still lose those just to be safe. I don’t want my daughter getting stuck with a loser. We need to make sure you get a good guy. Reel him in now. You had a good idea with that DeVroe kid. Too bad he wised up, saw through you, and picked that other girl. Her family is wealthy too. He wasn’t dumb.”
She was saying everything I hated, everything I didn’t want to hear, and she was doing it while she started going through my bag. She pulled my clutch out, thumbing through it. I was still reeling that she was here, that she talked to my roommates, that she rearranged my entire kitchen, and all the cutting comments within two minutes for me to register what she was doing.
She was taking my money.
“Stop!” I lunged for her, taking my clutch away, my chest was heaving.
Oh no.
I did what she needed me to do. I yelled and I forcibly ripped something from her. I could only stand and quake, waiting to see what she’d do next. Throw a tantrum. Cry? Whatever it was, she’d be the victim.
She was always the victim.
In every scenario.
If I walked into a room, if she was in a mood, she was the victim.
If I opened the dishwasher and forgot to close it, she was the victim.
A guttural sob came from her.
Years and years of this. It was too much. Too exhausting.
She was going to cry. That was her choice of action. She’d be in full meltdown within minutes.
“I can’t believe you just did that to me.” Another sob. A gasp. Tears actually were sliding down her face.
She’d wail soon.
And me, I did what I learned growing up.
I shut down. I couldn’t leave the room. That’d further give her ammunition, that I was abandoning her. That I didn’t love her. Etcetera and etcetera and etcetera. It went on and on. There was no reasoning. She didn’t want that. Logic. Common sense. No way. It was whatever she could do to get my attention. And if someone else was in the room, to get their attention.
She was an energy pariah, sucking it out of you until you were so drained that you were hollow.
I had nothing in me. Absolutely nothing anymore. I couldn’t even bolster the energy to fight her, to kick her out.
“I kept waiting for you to visit me at the hospital, but you never did. I almost died, Mara. Where were you?” More tears. Deep sobs where she had to hiccup around one. “I’m all alone. You don’t love me. Your father hates me. He’s trying to get me locked up. I wanted to see you, so I came here, and I’m trying to do something nice for you. Gaining weight is a big deal to girls. I struggle with it myself, but not everyone can have my metabolism. But Mara, I was all alone. Do you know what it was like when I woke up in the hospital and I was alone? How those nurses looked at me? How they always look at me? None of them were nice. They judged me.”
I couldn’t.
I just couldn’t.
I took my clutch, my bag, my phone–I made sure I had everything of value with me. My keys.