Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
She stopped herself abruptly. She could practically hear Chuck’s voice. There you go again, Torri—running off at the mouth!
“Sorry,” she said to Vic. “You probably don’t want to know all that.” Cheeks burning, she looked down at her tray again, picking at her eggs.
To her surprise, Vic reached across the table and placed a big hand over hers. When she looked up at him, Torri saw concern in his eyes.
“Please…talk. I like…your voice,” he said, struggling to get the words out in his rumbling baritone.
It was so exactly like what he had said to her in her dreams, that Torri just stared at him for a moment. Then she got hold of herself and smiled hesitantly.
“Thank you, but you don’t have to say that. My husband, Chuck, always says I talk too much.”
“I don’t…talk…enough,” Vic pointed out earnestly. “Your talk…helps…my talk.”
Torri frowned.
“You think it helps your speech to hear other people talk?” she asked.
Vic shook his head.
“Not…others. Just…you.”
“Well…thank you.” She could feel her cheeks getting hot again and reprimanded herself for being silly. Doubtless, Vic was just being nice and besides, despite what an asshole he had been lately, she did still have a husband. Chuck might not have meant his own vows for better or worse, but Torri didn’t take hers lightly.
“Thank you,” she said again, smiling. “Try your toast now—you’d better eat it before it gets soggy.”
She took a bite of her own toast to show him what she meant. Vic copied her and smiled as he chewed.
“Better than…not bad,” he pronounced, pointing at the strawberry jam.
“Especially if you’ve got a sweet tooth,” Torri agreed, smiling.
The morning was off to a good start—much better than yesterday, she thought. She just hoped the rest of the day would go on in the same way.
Fourteen
The day did go very well. Vic sat beside her during Group Therapy and when the therapist asked Torri what her goal for that day was, she was able to say, “My goal is to be more positive,” and really mean it.
When Vic was asked he simply said, “Speak better…with help,” and smiled at Torri, which made her heart pound for some foolish reason.
During Physical Recreation time, he came out to the rec yard with her. Mazy stuck her head outside but, seeing that Torri wasn’t alone, she simply nodded hello and left again.
Torri showed Vic the big maple tree with its gorgeous riot of Fall leaves and told him hesitantly about the picture she’d been doing of it and how it had been ruined. Vic nodded sympathetically—he was an excellent listener, though he did occasionally make extremely brief observations.
They ate lunch together at their special table—grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, sliced apples—and Torri taught Vic how to dip his sandwich in his soup. He pronounced the meal, “Not bad,” which was becoming a running joke between them.
During Art Therapy, there was a new therapist who apparently hadn’t heard that Torri wasn’t allowed to draw anymore. Torri took full advantage of her ignorance to get another 11 x 7 cardboard canvas and charcoal. After asking Vic’s permission, she spent the hour sketching him.
He held perfectly still the entire time, surprising her somewhat. During the few art classes she’d managed to snatch in college, whenever you had a live subject, it wasn’t always easy for them to hold still without at least twitching from time to time. But once she got him into the pose she wanted, Vic seemed to fall into an almost inhuman stillness.
Even when a big horse fly buzzed through the open window and the therapist and several of the patients got caught up in chasing it out again, he didn’t so much as twitch a muscle.
It made Torri think—with a touch of unease—about the strange dream she’d had of him being some kind of robot or cyborg. But that was ridiculous, of course. Dreams weren’t real.
So she pushed the thought away and got back to sketching.
When she showed the sketch to Vic at the end of the therapy hour, his eyes widened in surprised pleasure.
“So…much…talent,” he said haltingly and pointed at the picture. “Looks…exactly…like me.”
“Thank you—I’ve always loved to draw. And it’s easy when you have a good subject,” Torri said, feeling her cheeks get hot again at his open admiration of her work.
God, she really needed to take it easy here! She was beginning to feel like a girl in high school developing a crush on the handsome new student.
You’re married, she reminded herself again. Doesn’t matter if Chuck is being an asshole, he’s still legally your husband.
And who knew—maybe he still cared. After all, he had gotten pretty choked up the other day when she’d reminded him of their vows. Maybe he would come around after a while and get her out of here. Especially if she could go a few more nights without any night terrors…