Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
The Butcher just stared at me. I don’t know if she knew, or was just listening to me.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Has Victor hurt you?” The Butcher asked.
Physically, the man hasn’t touched me, other than our wedding night. Emotionally, that is different.
“No, he hasn’t hurt me.” There was no point in even trying to explain. Last night was over and done with. Victor didn’t want anything from me.
“I’m just going to get ready for dinner,” I said. Right now, I needed to be alone.
The Butcher didn’t follow me, and she didn’t say anything. Leaving the pool, I went straight to my room, and through to my en-suite. Gripping the edge of the sink, I held onto it tightly and squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to think. Tears were long gone. They didn’t solve any problems. They only made me feel worse.
Lifting my head, I stared at my reflection, hoping to see something. I’m the same old person. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Chubby cheeks. Nothing has changed.
I moved from one prison to another, the only difference is this time, I didn’t know what my jailer wanted. With my dad, I could anticipate what he wanted. This time, I didn’t have a clue. Which was daunting.
Stepping away from the sink, I took a quick shower, washing my hair as I did. There was no reason for me to take forever, so I stepped out of my bathroom into my bedroom.
Other than my sewing room and closet, I hadn’t moved into this room. There was a bed, a chair in the corner, and a couple of bedside cabinets. The walls were plain white, while the carpet was black. I liked the carpet, it was fluffy and snuggled between my toes.
There was a lot to like about this room. Only, it wasn’t home. It was just a room.
Shaking my head at how I was feeling, I stepped into my closet and grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt.
I didn’t want to stay in my room, nor did I want to go to my sewing room. The library was an option, but instead, I went out to the garden. It was another long summer’s day, and I knew they were slowly drawing to a close. Rafael told me he attended the garden at all times of the year. I looked forward to seeing the garden changes over the next year, if I was alive.
Making my way downstairs, I went out to the back garden, and sure enough, there was Rafael, in the rose beds, weeding. I didn’t like weeding, but I also didn’t like them making plants struggle.
“Hello there, stranger,” Rafael said.
This made me smile. “Sorry for being late.”
“Do not worry about it. I know we have a special guest, and you must take care of her.”
I’d left The Butcher in the house. At the pool. I hadn’t even thought to check if she was okay. I nibbled my bottom lip. Crap. Now, I felt like a total asshole.
“Do you think I should go and check on her?” I asked.
Rafael laughed. “I have already seen her perusing the garden. She is around somewhere.”
“Do you know her?” I asked, curious.
“I know of her.”
“You do?” I needed to know more.
“But I am not a man to gossip. You know this. Anything you want to know about The Butcher, you should ask her, and only her. She is the one with all the answers.”
I didn’t ask him if he thought it was rude of someone to do that. Besides, I had noticed The Butcher only talks about what she wants. She was not going to share anything with me, which sucked, not that I should care. She was entitled to share whatever she wanted with anyone she wanted. It was her life.
“What are we doing today?” I asked.
“We’re making sure these roses look fine and beautiful, and vibrant. Do be careful of the thorns.”
“I love roses,” I said.
“As do I. They’re something else. Beautiful, but deadly. You do not want to go holding one too tightly now.”
In that moment, I wondered how different my life would have been if I had been born beautiful. Okay, now I fucking hated this. I did not like this pity party. I got over this years ago. Right around the time of the second plastic surgery visit. I was lucky the doctors my father took me to, refused to work on someone who wasn’t willing.
Thinking about it, that did surprise me. Most often, people did everything my father told them, no questions asked. Yet, I did not go under the knife.
I noticed The Butcher was nowhere to be seen. Until it started to get dark, I stayed outside, helping Rafael. He talked constantly about his flowers, and I found that a welcome distraction. He knew what he was doing and it calmed me.