Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
I’m going to have to play this smart instead.
God help me, I’m going to need my poker face.
I breathe in, hold my breath as I imagine a square, two, three, four, then breathe out again.
Finally, I look up into Drew’s hateful face. “So what’s the plan? You keep me here, constantly drugged like some princess in a tower?”
“What? No, of course not.” Drew pulls back, affable again. He sits back down on his chair and casually crosses his leg.
In his Serial Killers 101 class, Dr. Ezra says we have to be careful about going around calling everyone narcissists and psychopaths, even though it’s popular to do on social media. The DSM-5 actually has a quite narrow set of definitions for personality disorders.
Psychopath and sociopath aren’t even terms we’re allowed to use in class. Instead, someone like Drew might qualify for an Antisocial Personality Disorder characterized by a regular pattern of self-serving disregard for norms and the rights of others. Also lying. Manipulation. Impulsivity. Aggression. Irritability. Irresponsibility.
And, of course, lack of remorse.
I can’t believe I’ve been so close to him for so long and am only seeing it now. And I thought I was so smart. Ha.
“You’re going to walk down the aisle in the beautiful white dress Carol has chosen for you. You’re going to stop fighting everyone who only wants what’s best for you. And we’re going to have a wedding that’s going to be the envy of all Dallas. I’ll win over all the backers for my campaign, and we’ll take the most beautiful wedding photos for The Dallas Morning News.”
He smiles as he envisions it all.
I just blink at him. I’m still not in a position to fight him on anything, but I can’t help but be curious as to how deep the delusion goes.
“And why would I go along with all this?”
“Because, darling-cakes,” he turns his gaze back to me, and again I see the violence simmering just below the surface. “My father’s got the Dallas police department in his pocket, and your little boyfriend’s being shipped back to lockup in a Dallas County jail. If you want him to survive a single night there, you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
FIFTY-TWO
ISAAK
“Hey, big guy. You think you’re too good for us or something?”
I keep my head down, staring at the scraggly grass trying to shove up through the muddy yard.
Always figured I’d end up here sooner or later. I heard once that the girls in the group homes worry about aging out and ending up on a stripper pole or selling their bodies on the street. Hell, some even look forward to the big bucks they can make on the pole. But guys? We worry about ending up behind bars. They even have a name for it. The foster-care-to-prison pipeline. Ain’t that some shit?
“Hey! I’m talking to you.”
I keep walking, even though I’m long familiar with the energy of bastards who are looking for a fight. I hoped my size might keep me from getting jumped my first day.
You think I would have learned what dumb shit hope is by now.
I also should have known that after being on top of the world a few days ago, the only place left to go was down.
I see the fist coming a mile away and duck it, but then I catch sight of the second guy closing in. And the third.
Ah. So they did take note of my size and decided this was gonna have to be a group affair. They waited until we were out in the yard to get some space before the guards could intervene, if they even had the thought to.
Which means I gotta get the fuck out of here before I’m surrounded. I don’t bother swinging, and it’s clear the motherfucker in front of me expected me to.
Instead, I sprint forward through the break in the group coming to jump me and keep running. There’s a guard gate ahead, though the guard doesn’t look happy to see me coming.
I see him whip out his billy club, ready to give me a beating if I keep sprinting at him like a bull on a rampage.
A quick glance over my shoulder lets me know the group is right on my heels. Well, as on my heels as guys not as toned and in shape as me can be. There is one fast guy, though. He looks like a runner, but while he might catch up, he’s too scrawny to really be much of a threat.
Beside the guard gate is a faction of guys who clearly sit all together because they’re one of the many gangs that regroup on the inside. I saw similar dynamics in a couple of the homes I stayed in.
Well, fuck.
I only see one option ahead, and it’s not gonna be pretty.