Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
I can tell by Kolya’s expression that he’s enraged, disappointed, and probably wants to punch me in the face. We might have been brought up together, but he knows me to be cold and calculative toward other people, not my own. So the fact that I’m directing those traits inward, at Yan, is pissing him off like nothing before.
“Am I next?” he asks quietly. “After Yan, is it my turn?”
“Don’t give me a reason.” I turn around. “Tell me when he wakes up.”
“You know,” he speaks from behind me. “As much as you hated your parents, you’re a replica of them.”
I’m not under the implication to answer him, so I don’t as I click the door shut behind me.
A replica of them.
Possibly.
After all, monsters can only birth monsters.
28
Winter
I can’t do this anymore.
I just can’t.
Today, I woke up sweating and in tears. My whole body was shaking so hard that I scared Jeremy when he came into my room.
Sometimes, I don’t remember my nightmares, but I recall this one. I recall how Adrian was fucking me on the bed, my arms and legs looped around him as Lia barged through the door with a knife. However, this time, no shadow saved me from her as she slit my throat.
Adrian didn’t look at me twice when she was in the room. As I was clutching my bleeding neck, he pulled out of me and went to her.
He hugged her from the front in a way that he’s never hugged me. He breathed in her scent and kissed her temples.
“I’ve missed you, Lenochka,” he whispered to her while she was holding the bloodied knife that slit my throat.
“You’re finally home,” he murmured between kisses to her cheek, her mouth, and her throat as I lay there, gurgling, thrashing, crying.
Help! I screamed in my head. Adrian, help me!
He didn’t.
All of his attention was on Lia, on her face, her cheeks, her throat, her mouth. She looked at me, though. Her eyes met my identical ones, and she smirked as she hugged Adrian back and mouthed, “Mine.”
That’s when I died.
But then I was shoved into another nightmare, where a man wrapped his hand around mine and forced me to pull the trigger. Blood covered my skin as I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
Then it was over.
Jeremy was the one trying to wake me, standing by my bed, holding one of his toy soldiers. He jerked back when I startled into a sitting position.
He’s now standing near the dresser, his face pale and his lips trembling. “Are you a ghost, Mommy?”
My breathing immediately calms and a different type of worry takes over me. Jeremy seems like he’s scared of me and that hurts more than I like to admit.
I extend a hand toward him. “I’m so sorry, Jer. Mommy just had a nightmare. It’s over now.”
“Really?” he doesn’t seem convinced, even as he stares at my hand.
“Really.”
“You’re not gonna be Ghost Mommy?”
“Of course not, my angel.”
He cautiously takes a step forward and places his tiny hand in mine. I smile and he grins back. “You’re my mommy.”
“I am.”
He climbs on top of the bed and wraps his small arms around me. “Can you always be my mommy?”
The desperation and exasperation from earlier sticks to my throat as I think of what to tell him.
I’m not staying here anymore.
I don’t care if the police lock me up. I just can’t, under any circumstances, remain in a house that gives me the creeps with a man who’s erasing me from existence.
It’s been a week since the attack. A whole seven days since he first fucked me.
He’s done it again and again since. Sometimes twice a day. Sometimes as a form of punishment. Last night, it was because he figured out that I’d spent most of the day taking care of Yan—a fact he doesn’t like.
He was harsh, unyielding, and didn’t pull out of me until my lips bled from how much I bit down on them. I’m glad he cleaned me up and covered my body with a nightgown, because the last thing I want is for Jeremy to see me in that state.
But then again, Adrian provides the best aftercare I’ve ever witnessed. I’ve only ever known selfish men who paid attention to their own pleasure and to hell with mine. Adrian doesn’t only make sure I come first—and multiple times—he also never leaves me dirty and walks away. He always bathes me, dresses me, brushes my hair, tucks me in, and even tells Ogla to bring me meals in bed when he feels I’m too sore to move.
I want to convince myself that I don’t like any of that. That I have no choice but to go with it. But is that the case if my body always comes undone? If I crave him as soon as his hand is on me?