Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Even with a mother like mine, I wanted to pretend it was all okay, and if it weren’t, I’d fabricate a story to convince myself it was.
This moment feels perfect to shed the heavy burden of those few weeks when I was kidnapped. But a nagging doubt creeps into my mind, whispering that my struggles were insignificant compared to the other women.
Those women were abused in violent ways I don’t think I would ever recover from. Those memories keep me silent about my suffering, which was nothing in the grand scheme of things. So what if I fucked two hot guys to keep myself safe? Two hot guys who were kind to me for the most part. Two hot guys who saved me.
I glance at the man in the glasses briefly before lifting my gaze to the clock on the wall above his head. “Oh, crap. I’ve got to get going. I have a shift at the shelter.”
“So, I guess you won’t be coming out with us tonight?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“You never come out.”
I laugh. “It’s just not my scene.”
“Dinner with people your age isn’t your scene?”
I close my eyes momentarily. “I just need to focus on work for now.”
It’s hard to explain to Ari that I’m not the same person I was two years ago. Back then, I was out until all hours of the night, usually drunk. I was soaking in life as if I had nothing to lose. Two years ago, I didn’t know what I know now. I was still living in denial. I was oblivious to the world’s harshness despite being my mother’s daughter and having a sister who risked her life for years to save the very women I witnessed being brutalized and did nothing to help.
Ari nods and gives me a quick hug before I head out the door.
I didn’t help those women back then, but I’m determined to help anyone I can now.
13
MONA
“Do you have Persian food every night?” my sister asks as she scoops rice into Lev’s plate.
I’ve always found that amusing about my sister. She’s married to three capable men who worship the ground she walks on, but she still insists on taking care of them like children.
I watch as she carefully places the kabob, grilled tomato, and raw onion away from the rice. She treats them like babies. Their food can’t even touch. “You gonna chew up that rice and kabob for him, too, or can he manage that all on his own like a big boy?”
Zeke, one of my sister’s husbands, chuckles behind me. “Take it easy, Mona. The three of us have some issues.”
I smile at Zeke. Out of the three men my sister shacked up with, he’s my favorite. “It’s weird seeing how Little Miss Can-Do-Everything-On-My-Own pampers three grown men.”
Azadeh glares at me. “I pamper them because I love them, and they take care of me.” My sister gazes at Zeke and gives him a radiant smile—the kind of smile only truly fortunate people can bestow on another. Then she looks at me, her forehead creasing with a frown. “I’m not like Mamon, doing it for ungrateful brats.”
My heart sinks at the mention of my mother, and tears well up in my eyes. I’m the brat Azadeh is talking about. I know I am. When my mother was alive, I was so ashamed of who I was that I treated her like garbage. Of the three of us, I was the troubled child. The one my mother worried about. If she’d died from a heart attack instead of cancer, I’d be convinced that I caused her death.
“Anyway, how about you answer my question?” Azadeh demands.
I stare at my sister, knowing that once she hears the truth, she’ll lose her ever-loving mind.
Azadeh places her hands on her hips and doesn’t budge. “Well?”
“Someone delivers it. It’s not always kabob, but it’s always Persian.”
Azadeh makes herself a plate and sits down, the clatter of her cutlery making me think her questioning has come to a halt. The brief respite shatters as she asks her next question. “What restaurant did you order from?”
“Not sure,” I mumble as I stuff my mouth, limiting my capacity for speech.
“She’s avoiding you,” Cyrus says.
I turn to him, taking in the burn marks on his face and the smug little boy smirk forming on his lips. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
Cyrus shrugs. “Game recognizes game.”
Four sets of eyes glare at me, and I can’t help feeling I’m about to be interrogated. “Someone sends it, okay?”
“Who?” Zeke and Azadeh demand in unison.
My eyes drop to my plate as I fork a piece of kabob into my mouth. If I keep eating, maybe they’ll drop their questions.
Lev clears his throat. “You can’t eat continuously for the rest of your life. Eventually, you’ll have to come clean.”
Unlike my other two brothers-in-law, Lev usually leaves me alone. The weight of his guilt concerning what he allowed to happen to me two years ago is a heavy burden for him to carry.