Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Do it.” I dare him.
He looks down at me with his eyebrows pinched together, almost forming a perfectly straight line. “You would rather that than deal with me?”
“Possibly.”
“Am I that bad to you?” he asks with sincerity in his voice.
“This is not what I want. This is not what I signed up for.”
Atlas loosens his hold, just a fraction, not enough where he lets go of me completely, just enough where I can breathe a little easier.
“You are a good girl, are you not?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Have you ever done anything bad in your life?”
“No,” I answer. “And I don’t plan to. And I am more than happy with that choice,” I tell him. “Will you let me go now?” I ask, pushing at him once more.
He nods, steps back, and lets me put distance between us. “Lucy has done many things that are bad. Illegal. Can I tell you a bit about her you may not know?”
“I know my sister,” I tell him. I may not agree with her, but I know her.
Atlas walks over to the counter and taps his fingers along the top, then grips it as he turns to look at me. “Lucy’s been doing illegal shit for quite some time. And it all started with her first hit, when she got away with doing something she shouldn’t have. She never learned her lesson, so she went again, and again. She kept chasing a high that’s impossible to cure. But she didn’t care, and still doesn’t. No matter what her consequences are. It’s how she’s built and how she will continue to build her future. To her, the high is more important than the downfall.” He says it as if he knows this better than anyone, as if he knows Lucy better than I do.
“How do you know?”
“My father was the same. Smart businessman, but always chased the high. Anytime he could. And in the end it’s what got him, as it will Lucy. She’s lucky she is still breathing.”
“Is your father still alive?” I ask.
He eyes me as if he isn’t sure if he should tell me. “Yes.”
“Do you talk to him?” This is the most I have gotten from him in weeks, and as he’s giving me the information willingly, I will keep asking until he makes me stop.
His head drops to the side while he assesses me. “Why do you ask?”
“Why can’t I ask?”
“My father is incarcerated, where one day Lucy will be too. Because she will continue, and one day she will rip off the wrong person.”
“I’m sorry about your father, but it seems you’re on the way to visiting him permanently too.” I smile and head into my sister’s room. Finding the closest bag, I start emptying her drawers, throwing her things in there as quickly as I can.
“You have a smart mouth, Theadora.”
“So you say.” I keep going, walking around, collecting as much as I can carry, because the rest I don’t care about. I’ve already cleaned up enough of her messes. This time is the last. “If it bothers you, you know where the door is.”
Hands close around my waist, pulling me back. He’s always touching me. Why is he always touching me?
Pulling away, I shake my head, holding my hand up. “Why do you keep touching me?” I ask. “Stop. Just stop with the touching.”
“You like it when I touch you. You plan to stand here and tell me otherwise?”
“What…” I reply, confused.
“Every time my hand touches you, you suck in a breath, and your breathing becomes heavy. When I hold you long enough, you calm down and breathe normally, but your heart rate never slows.”
“Because you are a psycho,” I yell.
He chuckles. “I like touching you. It’s interesting.” He turns, walking out, and yells back over his shoulder, “Tomorrow at five?”
“Five?” I yell back, not sure what he’s talking about.
“A.M.” He confirms my running time.
I have started running again every day, and I feel good for it. It makes me feel awesome, and I start my day a little brighter.
How he knows what time I go, I don’t even want to know.
I expected him there all week, but thankfully he hasn’t bothered.
I really hope tomorrow is the same.
It’s not. He’s here when I walk out, stretching as I go. I don’t talk, my AirPods are in, and I don’t want to listen to him at all. I start, and he follows. He takes the same track I do and not once asks any questions. I don’t stop this time at the end, I just continue how I normally would. Atlas keeps up, and I can hear his breathing is heavier with each footstep he takes on the way back. When we reach my house, I catch a glimpse and see the sweat beading around his forehead where he has on a cap. His two nose piercings catch the light, and I have to remember to look away.