Chapter Three

I draw a thick red X through the box on the calendar hanging by the front door. I glance up at the photo of the wrinkled bulldog puppy that is cute by all standards and would normally make me smile. It's the 13th day of August, and I haven't smiled yet. I blow out a breath and put the red marker on the counter.

It at least helps me keep track of the days. Bradyn may be an ass for what he did to me, but he's stepping up now. The calendar was a smart idea. Each day before I leave the house, I cross off the previous one. And I have to leave the house every day, so it works.

Because I have a schedule.

One he made for me.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I work at his mother's office, because you know—bills. I haven't gotten Mom's life insurance money yet, but even when I do, it won't last forever. Besides, I'm eighteen and work experience is a good thing to have under my belt—so Bradyn says.

I'd prefer to lie in bed and rot.

But apparently, what I want doesn't matter.

Maybe I'd feel better if I knew why Ves was ignoring me.

I go there every night and call out to him.

He still doesn't answer.

I feel him watching me.

He still doesn't care.

Thursday is grocery day.

Friday, I go to the bank to cash my check.

Saturday, we volunteer at the animal shelter. We as in Bradyn and me, because he's made it his life's mission to pick me up from rock bottom. I don't think it'll work. I'm too deep. But if he needs a clean conscience, then he can have fun trying.

Sunday, we go for breakfast.

That's how my days go. For a solid month now, I've followed this exact schedule.

A whole month. Four weeks.

Four breakfasts, twelve workdays, four grocery shopping trips, four trips to the bank—because his mother writes me a check each week—and four days volunteering at the animal shelter.

I huff out a sigh, grab my keys from the hook by the calendar, and head out the front door. It's hot today. I hate summer.

I get into the car, tossing my lunch bag onto the passenger seat, and blast the AC. It eventually gets cool enough where I don't feel like I'm breathing in cotton. I back out of the driveway and make my way to work.

Never in a million years did I think I'd work as a clerk in a gynecologist's office, but it just so happened that Bradyn's mother needed one the exact time Bradyn thought I needed a job to help with my sanity.

I'd prefer a lobotomy.

Between the hours of nine and three, except from twelve to twelve thirty when I'm on my lunch break, I answer calls and schedule patients. I run insurance cards and pull files. Thankfully, I don't have to talk to anyone face-to-face. The receptionist does that.

The thing about Mrs. Whitemore having her own practice is that she makes the rules. It doesn't matter that I don"t have experience—I'm not doing anything important. What I do, a toddler could do. Hell, I could train a monkey to do this work. That's how easy it is. Of course, that's if monkeys could talk. Though, I could get it a communication device and it would work just as well.

If this happens, press this. If that happens, press that.

Simple.

My cell phone dings with a text as I park in the small lot that is only for the office. It's empty outside of two other cars—Mrs. Whitemore's and Gail's. Gail is the receptionist. I check my phone before getting out.

Bradyn: Movies tonight

I want to argue and tell him no, especially since it isn't a question. I want to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. But I shouldn't.

Me: Okay.

Bradyn: It starts at 4:15. I'll pick you up from work.

I bang my head on the headrest. Once. Twice. Three times. Not enough for brain damage, but a girl can dream.

Me: Okay.

Bradyn: I'll buy you popcorn with extra butter and a box of Milk Duds.

My favorite. I almost smile.

If he were doing this for me and not himself, maybe I would.

If I weren't so torn up over Vesperon acting as if he doesn"t know who I am, maybe a shred of happiness would pass through my body.

Me: Thank you. See you then.

Bradyn: Have a good day at work. :-*

I shove my phone into my bag, ignoring the kiss emoji. Why won't he just leave me alone?

I'm grateful to have him, in a way. He's keeping me afloat, even though all I want to do is drown. I'm tired of fighting, of being let down, of having no one. Everyone in my life who has ever meant something to me is gone or has betrayed me. I have nothing left to fight for. Not a damn thing.

Father—dead.

Mother—dead.

Mate—ignoring me.

What's the point of… anything?

I am at least grateful Bradyn is keeping boundaries—other than the odd kiss emoji from a few seconds ago. He hasn't pushed or pressed me into anything I don't want to do. Outside of making me eat, shower, leave the house, get a job, and a list of other things, but nothing when it comes to us. No relationship talk, no talk of what happened, no more apologies. Just him taking care of me.

I don't know why he's really doing it. Why does he suddenly care so much? The only thing that makes sense is guilt. He didn't consider my feelings when he cheated on me. Why now?

Why now?

Bradyn pulls into the spot beside my car and puts his into park. It's dark out, but there are a couple of lights in the lot that keep it bright enough to feel comfortable. Or to make me sad enough because I know Ves could never come here. Both are true.

"You're sure you're fine?" Bradyn asks.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Bradyn. Just because I slept through the most boring movie in existence doesn't mean I'm too tired to drive six minutes down the road."

"First of all, that movie was not boring, and second of all, I can drive you anyway."

I groan loudly. "I will be fine. If you don't want me to sleep through movies, bring me to see something more entertaining."

"I'm not into you insulting my favorite movie franchise."

"And I'm not into spaceships and aliens."

He purses his lips to hide his annoyed smirk. He nods, then pushes the button to unlock the doors.

"Text me when you get home."

"Yes, sir," I say snarkily, yanking the handle to get out. I pull my keys from my bag, get into my car, and start it up. I wait a moment for the AC to kick in because it's still hot as hell, then I wave to Bradyn, who is watching me like a hawk, and pull off.

It takes only five minutes to get home tonight, thanks to no traffic.

I pull into the driveway, gather my things, and get out of the car. On the way up the walkway, a dark blur catches my eye. Instinctively, I turn toward it, but before I can see what it is, it slams into me, and I fly off my feet. My back hits the car so hard all the air leaves my lungs. I drop to the ground with a grunt, falling to my side and hitting my head on the pavement. My vision darkens around the edges. The buzzing in my ears sounds like a hive of bees took up residence in my brain.

I blink my eyes, trying to see what happened, but it's all fuzzy. I open my mouth to speak as I attempt to crawl to safety, but no words come out and I can't move. It's like my brain has disconnected from my body and nothing works as it should. The dark blur comes into my view again, and as it stands over me, I realize it's a black figure. For a moment, I think it's my Ves and my heart soars. He's come to save me. But I quickly realize it isn't him. This is a shadow though. I'd recognize one anywhere after spending time with Ves. This one is too short, too wide. Definitely not my tall and fit Ves. This shadow crouches down, hovering over me, then smirks; an evil smirk that has my stomach turning.

Is he here to kill me? For the first time in a long time, a shock of excitement rolls through me.

He could end my pain.

The shadow speaks, but my ears are ringing so loudly I can't hear the words. He raises his hand and I faintly spot something in it. Something long with a pointy end that the streetlight glistens off.

I thought shadows couldn't hold unnatural objects in the real world?

He brings it down toward me and I close my eyes. I hold my breath, awaiting the sharp sting of the blade to pierce my chest. Maybe my throat. Or perhaps my stomach, to make my death slow and torturous.

The only sharp sting I get is to my eyes when I'm blinded by a light so bright, I think it may be an atomic blast. I squeeze my eyes shut, curling in on myself. The movement makes every part of my body ache and does nothing to stop the blinding light from getting to me. The light is so bright I may have permanent damage to my corneas. It lasts for what feels like hours, and when it finally subsides, the ringing in my ears is gone too.

Grunts echo around the dark area. Two men maybe. There's metal clinking, thuds, and heavy footsteps. I try to open my eyes, but I see nothing when I do, which sends a spark of panic through me. I blink and rub them, trying to get my vision back. When I open them again, all I can make out is the yellowish ball of light over my front door. My eyes water and sting. There's another flash of light that makes me so nauseous I jolt away from it, hitting my head on the bumper, and sending me into complete darkness.