Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
The simple Tandy processor, set up in my father’s office, unlocked an entire world for me. The introduction to advanced technology took my childhood obsession with calculators and small appliances to an entirely new level. A switch turned on in my mind and I opened the door wider, letting a pent-up sea of ‘what if’ thought processes loose.
I dismantled the expensive new purchase, its guts stretching out across my father’s desk and learned its language in days. My parents were furious, then confused, then saw the genius, and moved me and the computer down to the basement. They gave me a workspace, tools, and freedom.
I worked at a furious pace. The library became my second home, and I checked out and read every book on technology they had. My interest became an obsession, my passion a madness. The more I learned, the more I opened different parts of my mind and learned of their potential, the further my intellectual capacity grew. Chaos began to reign in my mind, a complicated race of intellectual competition, as one thought process competed with another, all in an attempt to fight to the front of my subconscious.
I worked harder. Didn’t eat. Barely slept. Ignored my parents and became the typical irritable preteen. I moved my bed into the basement and spent every spare moment there. It was as if technology spoke the only language that my newfound madness understood. Inside those cement walls the chaos—for one brief moment—stopped. Focus came to my life. Everything else disappeared. As I worked a furious schedule in my new home, my parents grew worried, consulted shrinks, and discussed me in hushed tones as if I was sick.
They started to take me to doctors, a slew of them. Dr. F was the face that stuck. A constant presence in the carousel of different tests and meds. He was a psychologist, one who asked questions and examined my experiences. He tried to sort through the kaleidoscope of my mind and understand its structure and balance. He pulled from me dozens of stories and covered every facet of my adolescence. I answered all of his questions but never could seem to tell him what he wanted to know. His focus was always stuck on two dates: August 2nd and December 12th of my eleventh year. When asked about those dates, I remained mute.
It wasn't a conscious decision; I wasn’t being stubborn or secretive. I didn't tell him because I didn't know what happened. It was as simple as that. I couldn't remember. Or maybe, my subconscious wouldn't let me remember.
Around the time that I thought the chaos would split my mind in two and reveal a brain cavity filled with wires, Dr. F solved the riddle. He found the right cocktail of drugs that quieted the madness and put a muted skin over all of the colors. He narrowed my world down to the basement, where time passed in a sea of grey. We switched from public school to homeschooling, any friends faded away, and I re-engineered my life with firewire cables and more CPUs. Dr. F and the tests eventually stopped. Jillian moved in, my parents returned to their jobs, and after a while, life took on a new reality: Jillian and I against the world. I built computers, she brokered deals, and we became successful. Any deceit we orchestrated … it didn’t seem to matter. Money was rolling in, and my parents lapped up anything we said like milk.
I lied for almost a decade, Jillian covering my sins with a smile and words so smooth that I almost believed them myself. Then, she brought me a new medication and I didn’t have to lie anymore.
It'd been 27 years since that eleventh year of my life.
I was in control. I was in love. I would convince her to be my wife, and we would work through her issues together.
I had never been better, and the future was mine.
Chapter 60
ONE WEEK AGO
The crash of a plate cut to my core as Lee's arms swept everything off the entry table in one angry sweep. He was drunk, his eyes bleary, and had announced his arrival with a steady press on the doorbell between the guest house and main home. At the loud sound, I’d pulled on a robe and taken the elevator down to the beach level, the incessant buzz of the bell ringing through the elevator, a long foreshadow of the train wreck that greeted me. He had managed, through his drunk stupor, to take the outside stairs all the way down, and initially, I wasn't sure if the heave of his chest was from exertion or fury.
"I never wanted this! You wormed your way in my fucking life and now that you have me, you don't want me!" Lee gasped out the words, his eyes wide, hurt twisting his features.