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)
“So, what? We’re back to this now?” I ask. “Hiding from the world because some people are assholes?” Once I pull to a stop, she reaches for the door handle rather than actually answering me. I’m faster, engaging the child locks before she can escape.
“Seriously?” she snaps when she hears the click. Still, she tries to open it, anyway, even shoving her arm against the door as she pulls the handle.
“Do you think you’re going to break your way out?” I ask. She only stomps a foot and grunts out her frustration like a kid throwing a tantrum. “I don’t want to go back to you sneaking around like a ghost, afraid somebody’s going to notice you. I’m not going to sit back and let you lose progress.”
“Oh, you’re my therapist now?” She covers her face with her hands, and I hate to see her this way, I do, but life is never going to get better for her unless she works on it a little. It fucking sucks that’s how it is.
“I’m somebody who gives a shit.”
“Well, it’s really nice of you to decide to give a shit when you’re in the right mood, but this is my actual life. And no offense, or maybe full offense,” she adds with a smirk, “but a bunch of Instagram quotes and positivity aren’t going to help.”
“Fuck off. Instagram quotes?”
“That would be the thing you care about,” she mutters, rubbing her temples. “I’m not in the mood for this. I’ve had a shit day, and I just want to—”
“Run away? Like always?”
Throwing her hands into the air, she shouts loud enough to make my ears ring in the closed truck. “Oh my god! Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just leave me alone so I can process things on my own?”
“Maybe because you don’t really process anything. You’re stuck in the past all the time. You’re back in high school, surrounded by a bunch of assholes who I hope will eat shit and die. All I’m asking is for you to actually try to find ways to handle this shit. That’s it. Just try.”
“Why do you care?” Her dark, wounded eyes turn my way. I’m pretty sure they’re going to burn holes in me. The anger and resentment written all over her face make me feel small, because I’m responsible for some of it.
And that’s why I reply, “Because I’m tired of you seeing yourself as a victim when you don’t have to be. And honestly, I can’t be with you 24/7. So you need to get a little more confident and stick up for yourself. That, I can help you do. Will you let me?”
At least she doesn’t shut me down right away. “What do you plan on doing?” she asks after a long, silent few minutes.
I already have an answer for that one. It’s the most obvious choice. “I’m gonna unlock the door, and we’re going to the backyard.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” she says in a shaky voice.
“I didn’t ask you to like it. This is what has to happen. Step one of moving on with your life.” I release the locks, but, big surprise, she stays exactly where she is.
“I said I would help you, and I will,” I remind her. “You can’t be happy this way. I know you aren’t. So let’s do something about it.”
“I hate this,” she whispers, but she also gets out of the truck and follows me around the outside of the house, stepping through the back gate and closing it behind her.
“It just so happens I bought a couple of joints from Kellan.” The bag is still in my pocket and now I remove it, setting it on a table for Elliana to stare down at, like I pulled a dead kitten from my pocket instead of some weed. “I’ll get a lighter from the kitchen. Be right back.”
“You want me to smoke these?” she calls out in horror while I’m on my way inside.
Jesus Christ, she’s determined to kill me. “Not both of them, and not on your own.” There’s a lighter in the junk drawer in the kitchen, just like I thought. I take it out there to where she’s still staring at the joints, though now she’s chewing her lip with her arms wrapped around herself.
“I’ve never done this before,” she confesses.
“I’m so shocked.” Taking one of the joints from the baggie, I can’t help but snicker. “I didn’t think you’d ever done this before. Kellan promised it’s a really nice, chill high. And the idea is for you to relax. That’s all you have to do right now. Relax. It’s just the two of us,” I remind her, since she still seems nervous.
But she hasn’t run screaming into the house, either. I move slowly, deliberately, demonstrating what she’s supposed to do. It’s the simplest thing in the world, but I can see how it would be overwhelming.