Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
I don’t know if he’s grieving or maybe he’s working out a way to get rid of me too—God knows he’s made it clear I’m not wanted—but the past few days have been this weird mixture of blessed peace and crippling agony all at once.
It’s sort of like when you swim and you accidentally take a breath underwater—you know, the way your nose and chest both burn? That’s how I feel without Mama. Like I can’t take a full breath without sucking water deep into my lungs.
Yeah, that’s how it feels. Like drowning, but on dry land.
I don’t know what to do without her. What to think… how to feel.
For the past few years, things have just gone from bad to worse, and now, all I can think about is what horrible thing might be lurking around the corner.
When’s the other shoe going to drop?
It’s not like I have much left to lose.
Either way, it’s tomorrow’s problem, because today is Mama’s funeral. Well, sort of. Rand had her cremated, even though I knew she wanted to be buried next to my dad.
But he did what he wanted, without a single care for me or her wishes. And now I have to make a dinner in her honor to serve Rand and whoever he invited to this sham of a service.
I wanted to say something to him about it, to scream and cry that she would want to be beside my dad, but I knew better. Rand likes it when I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut, so that’s what I try to do.
It’s better that way.
But now I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Anxiously, Nora
Dear Diary,
I told him no. I begged him to stop. I pleaded for him to let me go.
But my words fell on deaf ears as he feasted on my pain, savoring each and every cry and whimper.
He took and took and took, until there was no part of me left untouched, no part of me still whole, no part of me untainted by his wickedness.
There’s this deep, pounding pressure in my chest, like the bone itself is caving in and piercing right through my heart every time I think of the cruel words he hissed at me. “Your mama’s gone and I’m a man with needs. Without her here, someone has to step up and fill them, and that someone’s you.”
I didn’t understand what he meant at first. I’ve been doing the cooking and cleaning for months now, even before Mama died. What else could he possibly need from me?
But then his hands dropped to his belt buckle and I knew—I knew exactly what he meant. I was torn between worry for myself and wondering how in the hell Mom was able to “fill his needs” when she couldn’t even get out of bed.
It was in that moment I realized how truly evil Rand was.
I tried to reason with him by telling him I was too young and that I was a virgin—but both of these things only seemed to excite him more. I even threatened to call the cops and he just laughed and handed me his phone and told me to have at it—that his buddies down at the station would probably enjoy the show.
He stole from me the one thing I had left, and now I have nothing.
I am nothing.
Everything hurts. My heart, my soul, and body. I ache in unspeakable places, in unspeakable ways, and there’s no one who can help me. I’m all alone and at his mercy.
I can’t stay here. I can’t! But I know I need a plan to make sure once I’m out, I never have to come back.
Painfully, Nora
Rage and horror coil together tightly inside of me, causing a crushing pressure to build beneath my sternum that pushes and presses and swells, until it feels like my heart and lungs might actually explode.
“How in the fuck—” My words stop as a tear falls from my cheek to the page, smearing some of her words.
Holy shit. I didn’t realize I was crying, but how could I not be?
My dad—he raped her. And from the sounds of it, he was doing the same to Grace as well.
He’s a fucking predator—the worst kind, too. The things he’s done are unforgivable. The mere thought of sharing DNA with him makes me sick to my stomach.
Now more than ever, I have to find Nora and make things right. I’m not sure how, but I won’t fucking rest until I do.
DIARY ENTRY, AGE 18
Dear Diary,
It’s my birthday today. I’m officially eighteen—an adult. If my parents were still alive, they’d make a big fuss about today, with a special breakfast and gifts and cake, the works.
But they aren’t. Instead, I’m all alone, locked in the basement again thanks to Rand catching me trying to take some cash he left on the kitchen counter last week. Luckily, he didn’t find the sock full of money inside of my pillow.