Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Anything you want to talk about right now?” She asks.
“Not yet, but, if I want to later can I?”
“Of course you can. Listen.” She says moving my hair behind my ear. “I know the four of us have not been close lately and Adriel and myself have been in our own world, but I am here for you. We don’t have a lot of freedom to talk here, you know.”
“Yes. I know.” I look around the room and see my father in the sitting room, I am sure with his ears on both our conversation and what he is doing.
“No Adriel again.” She says changing the subject.
“Do you have any idea where she has been?” I seriously want to know. I am beginning to worry.
“No clue.” I am going to respond but then my father pipes in.
“That girl is headed for a road straight to hell. Do you hear me? If either of you know where she has been, tell me now?”
“We know nothing, father,” I say praying he stops talking. He looks at both of us, his scrutiny is discerning and uncomfortable.
Satisfied that neither of us is lying to him, he nods his head and walks out of the room. We both blow out our breath and slump over. Aasta finishes up and walks over to me, whispering in my ear.
“Remember what I said,” I nod and walk up the stairs to get ready for dinner.
Dinner is quiet and tense as it always is only this night in particular, Rayna is not with us and father is more pensive than usual. Mother came in from the soup kitchen as she does on Thursdays and helped us finish setting the table. I don’t engage in the one-sided conversation my father is having about immoral actions and pontification. I merely nod as does my sister.
Aasta and I clean up in silence and then she goes her way and I go mine. In my room, I shower and get on my knees to say my prayers. Now, I am pacing. I am conflicted.
I have been taught all my life that what I am currently doing is wrong. But how can something that feels this good be so wrong? It’s not girl. It feels good because he is delicious. She is definitely awake. She is also right.
I have long struggled with what I was taught versus what I felt to be true and real. I am smart enough to know my father’s biases play a role in his teachings. I guess maybe I just don't want to disappoint him and my mother. Even now the good girl in me is pleading to tell him no. Then why are you getting dressed? Leave it up to Jezebel to state the obvious.
Looking at time, I see it is two minutes to nine and I am in an internal battle, and to be honest, Jezebel is winning. But can I have a righteous life if I go down this path? Does finding love now, real love now mean I have disgraced God and myself? Why does the doubt hurt?
A knock on the window ends my self-conflict. I look at him through the window and I know everything is ok. I might be going about this wrong, but I know in my heart he is meant to be mine and I am meant to be his.
“Why are you up here Pequeña and not under the trellis as we discussed?” He asks, walking in through the window.
“I’m sorry. I just needed a second.” He holds out his hand and looks at me.
“Are you ready now?” I can read exactly what he is asking me in the way his eyes are boring into mine. He is asking me if I am ready to stop fighting this and to give myself to him, wholly. I am. I know it is strange. I know it is so fast I personally have whiplash, but I am no longer just Imogen. From the moment he stepped foot in the classroom I have been going through a metamorphosis. Jezebel is fully integrated into my mind and body and I am done fighting her.
I place my hand in his and nod my head. “Yes, Alex. I am ready.”
“You honor me, baby.” Hand in his he helps me down and we walk across the street, using the plethora of trees to cover us in the shadows. I stall for a second when I realize we are heading to his house, but his feet don’t stop moving, forcing mine to also move forward.
We reach the backyard and he hits a set of stairs. “Where are we going?” I ask not sure why we are going in through the back unless he is also sneaking around.
“We are going to my suite.” He answers like it is normal.
“Suite?”
“Yes. My parents had additions built on that give my brothers and I our very own entrance and exit through our own terrace. He unlocks the backdoor and ushers me in. It is like entering another world which happens to be a front row seat to his mind.