Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
My phone clatters from my hand and hits the carpet at my feet.
It’ll be like traps and hunting all over again.
A long time ago, when Dad and I went hunting, he used to set traps for the small animals. I asked him why he did so, considering they’re put in so much pain for a long time.
Then Dad made me watch him skin a live rabbit and he told me that’s what so much pain could actually feel like.
After that, I never questioned Dad about anything he did.
After that, I kind of knew in the deepest recesses of my brain that my father wasn’t normal.
His message is clear. If I don’t bend to his will, he’ll do something worse to make me stop questioning him.
Not that he can do anything from prison.
Right?
That night, I go home late.
It’s not actually on purpose since we had a meeting with the factory manager about the production deadline for the newest launch.
If we have a good one, maybe I can buy Jonathan out. Or, at least, the majority of his stocks. I doubt he’d agree considering H&H is merely a drop in the sea compared to his other companies. However, I won’t give up on that option.
He called me twice, but I sent him straight to the generic message of ‘call me later. I’m in a meeting.’
By the time I get home, the house is quiet. I cross paths with Margot and she merely nods, then continues on her way.
“Margot,” I call after her.
She stops and spins around, her expression blank. “May I help you, Miss?”
“Is Jonathan in the dining room?”
“He retreated to his office. Dinner was served an hour ago.” She pauses. “I can bring supper to your room, if you like.”
“I already ate. There’s no need.” I sigh. “Am I only imagining it or do you actually hate me, Margot?”
“I do not hate you, Miss.” I expect her to turn around and leave, but she adds, “Might I speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“You look so much like Alicia, and it feels like having her ghost in the house. But since you don’t roam the halls in the middle of the night like she used to, it’s a bit confusing, I must admit.”
“A-Alicia used to roam the halls in the middle of the night?”
“Yes, she had severe insomnia and it drove her insane with each passing day.” Nostalgia covers her features. “I had to protect Levi and Aiden so they didn’t see her in that state.”
“What state?”
“The talking to herself state. The scribbling on books and every surface state. The crying without a reason state. You name it.”
No.
That…that doesn’t seem like the Alicia I knew. It sounds like a completely different person altogether. Sure, she suffered from depression, but she had it under control. Margot must be confused, because my sister never talked to herself or scribbled on books or —
The books in her room. She did have those red circles.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries,” Margot says. “I know she was your sister.”
“Did Aiden know about the state she was in?”
“He probably did, but he was too young and has chosen to remember the good parts.”
“How about…Jonathan?”
“Of course he did. Who do you think protected the children from her?”
I still don’t think my sister was that bad, but I say, “Thank you, Margot.”
She smiles a little, and I feel like maybe I managed to break the ice between us.
As soon as she disappears down the hall, I quicken my pace to the third floor and go straight to Alicia’s room.
I don’t care how disturbing those books are. If they hold any evidence about why my sister kept this facet of her life hidden from me, I need to know what it is.
It’s like she lived a double life. One was the soft, sweet Alicia who came to find me and buy me things. And then there was the mentally unwell Alicia whom Margot hated so much, that she ended up automatically hating me just because we look the same.
My hand turns clammy as I sit cross-legged on the floor, my back to the bed, and read from the book.
Six Minutes.
It takes me a while to get past the first chapter, even though it isn’t long. Every paragraph, I have to pause, take a deep breath, and stop myself from getting flashbacks of the victims’ faces or the members of the public that came to find me, before I continue reading.
After the first chapter of a man burying a body, we’re taken back to three months in the past.
That’s when I start noticing a pattern.
A few words are underlined in a red pencil crayon. Others are circled.
Emptiness.
Death.
Life.
Need.
Reason.
Strange.
Following the trails of such words distracts me from the flow of the book and I find myself flipping pages just so I can find the rest of the words.