Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I’m barely a few pages in when my phone vibrates. I jump at the sensation in my pocket. I forgot the thing was even there; I only carry it around more out of habit than anything else. I still don’t quite trust it, seeing as how Colt and Nix left it for me. What if they’re tracking it somehow? I hate how paranoid they’ve made me.
I should ignore it. I really should. After all, only a few people know my number, and I don’t want to speak to any of them. The sooner I completely cut them out of my life and my memory, the better.
But my curiosity is too much to resist. I won’t absorb any of this material, not if I try for the rest of the day unless I at least see who texted and what they have to say. My heart is heavy with dread as I reach into my pocket to pull out the device. The text is from an unknown number.
Unknown: How is school? - Colt
The phone shakes until the words blur. Finally, I have to put it down and clench my hands together, taking deep breaths to work my way through the flash of panic that’s gripped me. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m safe here. He’s miles and miles away, where he can’t hurt me. None of them can.
What I ought to do is block his number. I need to ignore this message. It’s the only way to cut him out of my life, right? If I engage with him, that only opens the door to more of the same bullshit. I have to be smarter than that, or else there won’t be anybody to blame but myself for the misery that will surely follow.
Then again…
I bite my lip, staring down at the phone like I’m waiting for it to snap at me. If I can get him talking, I might be able to eventually get some proof. Maybe not right now since it would look too obvious, but eventually. If I convince him I can move on and we can talk like two normal people, he might be more likely to open up. He might spill something he didn’t mean to, something I can use against him—but mostly against his father.
And so, though I don’t want to, I type a message in reply.
Me: It’s pretty good. I was just about to dig into some reading for my lit class. How’s it going there?
Immediately, an ellipsis pops up like he’s replying. I can almost see him sitting with his feet up on his desk or windowsill, or maybe he’s out with new friends. Perhaps he misses having somebody to torment.
Colt: Pretty good. It’s going to take a little bit of getting used to, new people and all that. But the coursework seems like it should be a breeze.
I roll my eyes.
Me: At MIT? Those are some pretty big words.
Colt: Yeah, but how do you think I got in? I know what I’m doing.
Whatever he says. I’m sure his father’s money had a little something to do with the two of them getting in, as well, but I don’t want to think about James, much less mention him.
Colt: Any hot girls there?
He would ask that question. I can’t help but bristle at the way he managed to change the subject so quickly.
Me: I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to girls, in case you forgot.
Colt: Come on. Even a straight girl knows when another girl is hot.
Me: I’ve sort of been a little too busy getting settled in. And having nightmares, but he doesn’t need to know about those. Nor does he deserve to.
Colt: I didn’t think there’d be so many here. I figured they’d all be nerds. But there are a couple of smoke shows in my classes. I fucked one of them the first night we got here.
Something about that sets my teeth on edge. I really wish it didn’t. I also really wish I understood why. What do I care who he fucks? If anything, I feel bad for the girl. Somebody should warn her about him and his brother. Somebody should definitely warn her against letting him take her home for a visit over the holidays, for sure. Then again, what am I saying? He’s not the relationship type, is he? I’m sure he wouldn’t even recognize the girl if he walked past her this very minute.
Whoever she is. Why do I even care?
I don’t know what to say, and I know he’s waiting for an answer. What, do I congratulate him? Extend my sympathies toward the poor girl, whoever she is? All he’s going to do is keep taking me farther down this road, and I have no desire to go in that direction with him. Not ever again.