Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“What are you doing?” she cries with shock.
But I keep hacking, the motion mechanical, driven by something I can’t control. Her protests blur together, and it’s not until I hear her scream that I finally stop.
“Stop!” she yells, her voice shaking with fury and something deeper. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She lunges towards me, almost loses her balance, and has to grip the branch she is sitting on so tightly her knuckles show white. Tears glisten in her eyes, and I realize just how close she was to falling. The craziness of what I’ve done sinks in. Christ. I’m going mad. She’s driven me insane.
“You’re going to fall,” I snap, reaching out to catch her.
But she jerks away from my touch, her body swaying precariously. “You’re the one doing this!” she shouts, her voice raw. “You’re the one ruining everything!”
“Raven,” I say, my tone low but firm. “Stop before you fall and break your neck.”
She glares at me, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing with anger. For a moment, it’s a standoff—her defiance against my frustration and anxiety. But then, she shifts her weight, her movements careful and fearful. She starts climbing down the other side of the trunk. I don’t move at all so I don’t spook her. Every muscle of my body is tense with worry. Only when her feet finally touch the ground do I climb down myself.
I step onto solid ground and see that she’s already storming off, her shoulders squared, her stride quick and purposeful.
“Raven,” I call after her, but she doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even look back.
With a sigh I close the penknife and shove it back into my pocket. I don’t know whether to feel regret or relief at this moment, but one thing I do know is that I feel immense sadness. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I’ve become a monster. Worse than Charles. I start walking towards the house.
Suddenly, she stops mid-stomp and then turns around to glare at me. I wait, wondering what kind of lunacy she is going to exhibit this time around. Angrily, she marches back toward me, and then with both of her hands against my chest, she pushes hard at me. Her strength is pathetic, so it barely moves me, but it does, however, alleviate some of my annoyance.
“What is your problem?” she demands, her voice trembling with fury. “Why do you hate me so much?”
The familiar burn of anger is instant. It is far greater than hers .“Why do I hate you?” I echo, my voice cold. “You really want to know?”
“Yes, I do,” she yells.
“I hate you,” I begin, “because I see you clearly now. For what you really are.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t look away, doesn’t interrupt. Good. Let her hear this. Let her feel it.
“Before, before I was blind—blinded by infatuation, by whatever the hell I thought we had. But now? Now I see the truth. You’re just like Charles and his ilk. All you’ve ever wanted was this,” I gesture broadly at the estate around us, my voice growing louder. “The big house, the wealth, the status. Isn’t this what you dreamed of, Raven? Well, congratulations. You got it. So what the fuck are you so mad about?”
The silence that follows feels like it could shatter under its own weight. Her lips part, but no sound escapes. For a moment, I think she might cry, but instead, she draws herself up, her frame trembling with barely contained rage.
“Go to hell, Earl,” she spits, her voice low but venomous. Then, without another word, she turns and begins running back toward the house.
I stand there, rooted to the spot, watching her go. Her movements are jerky, almost frantic, as though she’s trying to run away from the words I just threw at her. And for a fleeting moment, something unfamiliar stirs in my chest.
Regret? Guilt? I don’t know, but I push it away as quickly as it comes.
CHAPTER 27
RAVEN
My breath comes in short, shallow bursts as I storm into the kitchen, my vision blurred with unshed tears. He is killing my love for him. Every day bit by bit he is making me hate him. It is unbearable. The warmth of the house and the faint aroma of food and mulled wine being made waft through the air. It feels cozy, almost festive, like Christmas came early and entirely at odds with the chaos churning inside me.
Nora appears, her face lighting up when she spots me. She holds out a steaming mug. “Raven! You must try this. I’ve been perfecting the recipe—”
“I’m so sorry, Nora,” I interrupt, my voice cracking. “But not right now.”
I skirt around her, desperate to avoid her kind eyes, her questions, and the realization of how wrecked I am. My eyes are stinging, but I refuse to break down here, in front of her. The gossip will definitely reach my mother if I do.