Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
And I waste no time telling her about it. “You know, you could have maybe called me to see why I left without you this morning. Or you could’ve called down the stairs to let me know you were running late.”
I don’t expect an answer. I know better already.
“Next time, if you’re running late, tell me so. It’s pretty fucking rude to leave somebody waiting for you and not say anything until you have no choice but to dime them out. Don’t do it again.”
The most I get is a soft snort. At least it’s a reaction. I know she’s alive over there—I’m sure as hell not looking at her if I can help it.
Might as well get to the point. There’s still plenty of time before we get home, and I want to have this settled when we do. “Listen. There’s gonna be a party at the house this weekend. Friday night, after the parents leave for their trip.”
What a surprise—the fact that she sits there silent, like she’s never heard of a party. Would I be surprised if that was true? “Don’t worry. Nobody expects you to come.”
Glancing her way, I notice how she stares straight ahead and holds her backpack a little closer to her chest, arms folded across it.
“In fact, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay in your room all night. Door locked,” I add. “Nobody wants you there. You would only ruin the mood.”
Is there a magic word I need to find to get through to her? What can I say to get a reaction? Because even though I don’t want to hear her voice ever, it’s damn unnerving to basically talk to myself.
“But here’s the most important part. Here’s where I need you to listen very carefully and do exactly as I say, or else I will make you regret it with every breath you take for the rest of your life.”
She only shifts a little in her seat, like she’s uncomfortable, but says nothing. Still.
“You will not say a word about this to my dad or your mom. Not a single word. You got it?”
When silence is all the answer I get, I snap, “I want to hear it. Do you understand?”
Still, the only thing I hear from her is breathing.
Until—
“And what would happen if I do tell them? What if I say no?”
So somebody decided to find their voice.
Of all the fucking times, she chooses now to push back? I’m so surprised, I don’t know what to say at first. I mean, the answer is obvious, but I can’t believe she would make me say it out loud. Or is this only a rhetorical question?
Maybe I should let her know how it feels to be ignored.
No, on second thought, she needs to hear this.
Once I’ve pulled into the driveway and parked next to Dad’s BMW, I engage the child locks on the doors—they can only be controlled from my door panel once I engage them.
“Do you wanna know what will happen?” I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt, and turning my body in the seat so I’m facing her. “That’s just fine. Let me tell you how it will be, and I’ll speak slowly to make sure you understand. You won’t say a word about this party to either of our parents unless you want me to make your loser life even more miserable in every possible way. I will make it my personal mission to make every day of your life worse than the one before it.”
“Do you doubt I could do it?” I ask, watching her closely, studying her.
The only thing that moves is her jaw, clenched so tight it trembles a little.
“Do you?” I snap, making her jump. It’s almost too satisfying, seeing her do that.
“No,” she whispers, staring at the house. “Can I go now?”
“Remember what I said.” Because really, it’s not like I’m dying to spend any more time with her. She’s out the door the second the locks are disengaged, almost running for the house.
If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay in her room all night. Let her think a little about what I said.
Let her imagine all the different ways I could make it a reality.
SIX
Elliana
At least the day is almost over.
That’s pretty much the only thing I have to comfort myself with by the time I finish up in the bathroom after my last class on Thursday. The day is almost over, and I don’t have to be around so many people anymore; hearing them laugh at me, all because I committed the unforgivable sin of being different. Because isn’t that all that matters? Fitting in?
Forget trying to understand why I feel so broken and different. I mean, my own mother can’t be bothered to try to understand. Why would perfect strangers put in the effort?