Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51624 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
I’ve been inside the house for about ten minutes. I’ve been afraid to move, but the place is quiet. I peek through the opened door. From the small nightlight on the nightstand, I can see someone sleeping on the bed. I smile. She’s here.
I slip off my boots by the bathroom door—doing my best to be as quiet as possible. Then I make my way to my woman. A fine sheen of sweat pops out on the back of my neck and my hands. This is a moment I was afraid would never come. I kneel by the side of the bed. My heart jumps around crazily in my chest before settling back down. My entire body feels weak. I take in her soft hair. It’s darker now than it was the last time I saw her. Her skin is still just as fair, her cheekbones just as prominent—maybe more. I bet she’s not eating right. I frown. Olivia never did take care of herself like she should. She focused all her attention on making sure the people she loved were healthy and happy. I should be here taking care of her—not hiding out like a damn coward. I’m disgusted with myself. This has to end.
The urge to wake Olivia is so strong that I have to distract myself. I look around the room, hoping that our child is asleep in the room with her. I’m disappointed because there’s no sign of a child.
I decide to investigate the house. She’s probably given the child his or her own room by now. The thought that I will finally see the child we conceived together fills me with anticipation. Yet, it slowly dies when I look around the living area and see no sign of a child. The same can be said with the dining room and kitchen. I find another bath and a bedroom across from it. It looks like a rarely used guest room. I find the utility room and a small pantry adjacent to the kitchen area of the home. There’s only one room I haven’t looked in and surely that has to be the other bedroom. I take a deep breath, knowing that as soon as I open the door, I’ll be able to see my child for the first time. Anticipation fills me. I’m so nervous, my hand shakes as I grasp the doorknob. The room is completely dark. I take a chance and turn the light on and frown. The room is full of boxes. There’s no furniture at all. This room is being used purely for storage.
I go back to Olivia’s room. I want to wake her and ask where our child is. I’m afraid of the answer. If our child was alive, he or she would be here with Olivia. Pain and guilt nearly take me out on the spot. Did she lose our child? I knew she was being beaten daily. I also knew about that bastard Lucky raping her. Olivia often talked in her sleep. Because we were being held in a cage and I was only being kept alive for more torture and Olivia was the way to hurt me the worst, none of her dreams were good. One particular night, the world tilted on its axis for me. I can still remember the exact words she said that night, after being thrown back in the cage, her face swollen beyond recognition. The words broke me.
“If I fight, he’ll hurt me worse. I can’t let Bear know. It will kill him. Please let the condom work. Please God, please …”
I let her keep her secrets. In a situation like we were in, there wasn’t much I could do. I’d come so close to dying—more than once—I was horribly weak. It was pure need to be with Olivia that kept me going. I knew my days were coming to an end. Eyeball was getting bored with his daily torture sessions. I had to do whatever I could for her now. So, I let her have her silence. Then, one night, she confessed she hadn’t had a period in two months. We’d managed to have sex one night. It wasn’t great. I couldn’t love her like I wanted and because of the stitches and infection my body was carrying, it’s a wonder I could have sex at all. I chalked it up to how much I truly loved Olivia. Even though my role was sadly lacking, making love with Olivia was the single, most beautiful thing I had ever shared with another person. We decided that the baby was ours. Chances weren’t on our side, but it was possible. Despite enduring rape, those assholes used condoms when fucking. Apparently, a few STDs had gotten so bad that Lucky made wearing them mandatory. Olivia referred to the child as ours, and as far as I was concerned, that was the truth. I liked the idea of her having a child to love after I was gone. We’d talk about the life we would build for our child. We made plans that neither of us truly believed we’d live out. It kept us going.