Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149338 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
They fought a lot.
I thought about my mom as I was doing my ballet walks down the sidewalk. Pointing toe to heel, with my feet turned out, but putting my arms out at my sides to practice my balance like my instructor showed me. Humming a tune from Swan Lake as I danced my way home. I’d been a ballerina for as long as I could remember. It was my life, the only time I was truly happy. Not having to worry about anything around me, but the music and rhythm. My instructor said I was born to dance, picking up on new techniques without any hesitation at such a young age.
I would always rush home from class to show my mom all the new moves I learned. She would lay in her bed and watch every last one with a sparkle in her eye, telling me I looked beautiful. Then she would pull me toward her, rolling me onto her bed and we would cuddle for hours, watching movies while she played with my long hair. I slept in her bed more than I slept in my own, always scared of monsters under my bed. She understood my concern, so she let me sleep with her almost every night. My stepdad usually slept on the couch, especially over the last year or more, but I don’t really remember.
“Momma!” I shouted, walking into my house, shutting the door behind me.
Silence.
“Momma! I’m home!” I made my way toward her bedroom, down the narrow hallway, off the living room. Knowing exactly where she would be. She wasn’t laying in her bed, which only left one other place.
“Momma,” I said again as I opened the closet door in her room, and peeked in.
She was sitting in the small space at the far end of the closet, where she tucked all her junk away. She would sit on the ledge, breaking down all alone. She didn't acknowledge me, just continued to cry, staring off into space. I grabbed the stepping stool, placing it along the edge of the ledge. Giving myself a boost, so I could crawl to her, like I always did when I found her in here.
“Hey, Momma,” I whispered, wrapping my arms tight around her waist, laying my head on her tummy. “I’m home now. No more crying.”
She sniffled, kissing the top of my head and rubbing my arm. “I’m so sorry, Lexi. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow. I... I lost track of time.”
“Okay.” She wouldn’t.
“Maybe we can go to the park? Get some ice cream? I'll make it up to you,” she promised, pulling me in tighter.
“Okay.” We wouldn’t.
“I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.”
I looked up at her tear-stained face and nodded, wanting to believe her. My stepdad said she lost me one time and since then, she barely left the house.
I just hugged her and kissed her like I always did, wishing tomorrow would be better.
Knowing it wouldn’t.
“What are you still doing up? You need to be sleeping,” I stated in a harsher tone than I intended.
Daisy’s eyes widened with fear, shying away from me, immediately reminding me of her mother. Amari used to make that exact same face when our father spoke to her with the same dominant tone.
After all these years of not wanting to be anything like him, I was my own worst nightmare, my reality.
I was my father.
We were both one and the same.
It was the price I paid for the choices I made and the life I led.
El Diablo.
Daisy, or Briggs, as she called herself now, was the spitting image of my sister, except she had Michael’s fair skin. During her parents’ funeral she told me she was no longer Daisy. Her new name was Briggs. I let her have it because it granted her peace, though to me, she would always be Daisy. My sister’s favorite flower.
Even after two years of living with me, my eight-year-old niece was still fucking terrified of me. Not that I gave her a choice in the matter, it was easier for her to see me as a monster. I never wanted her to love me. I didn’t deserve it.
She didn’t deserve it.
The two women who loved me the most were both six feet under. There was no way in hell I would provoke fate again. Which was why she had a nanny, but Esteban was responsible for her. I assigned him as her permanent bodyguard. If anything happened to her, it was his life I would take, and he knew it.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered so low, I could barely hear her. Tucking her tiny frame into her chest, leaning deeper into the couch as if she wished it would make her disappear.
“It’s late, Briggs. You have school in the morning, and I don’t have time for this. Go to bed.”