Read Online Pretty Little Dreams by Jennifer Miller - Free Book Online Page A

you abused…”
    “Luke, are you okay? Something is wrong. I can see it on your face. What am I missing?”
    The last thing I want to do is tell her. I don’t want to worry her, and as much as I want to talk to someone about it, I couldn’t ever betray Olivia that way. So I lie. “I’m not feeling so hot all of a sudden, uh…stomach upset” I mumble. “Gonna go to the bathroom.” I gesture down the hallway.
    “Do you need anything?”
    “No, thanks.”
    I can’t look at her as I walk away. I’m trying to appear casual when all I really want to do is take off in a sprint at the fastest pace I’ve ever run. The overheard conversation is getting louder in my head. And won’t stop. I want to scream. But that wouldn’t help anyone. I just want to get the hell out of here. For a moment, I contemplate going to the bathroom, and shutting myself in a stall, but the lure of the outdoors and fresh air is far too strong.
    Once I know I’m out of eye sight, I do take off in a run. People look at me curiously as I pass - and I almost take out the nutritionist pushing her food cart - but I can’t bring myself to care. I mumble an apology, but I don’t stop. I can’t get out of the hospital fast enough.
    Once I’m outside, I take big gulps of air like a fish out of water.
    I brace my hands on my knees and stay that way deeply breathing in and out for several minutes.
    “Were you abused….”
    I hear someone exit the hospital behind me, which brings me to awareness of where I am. Standing here is probably not the smartest move. Nor is it far enough away. I race through the parking lot, making my way to my car. Once there, I unlock it, and practically lunge inside, still trying to catch my breath. I’m breathing so hard it sounds like I ran a 5K at a dead sprint. I clutch handfuls of my hair, as if doing so will get the words I keep hearing over and over out of my brain and the noise to stop.
    “Were you abused…”
    It echoes like a drum in my mind, beating against me until I scream out and start pounding on the steering wheel over and over and over.
    “AHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK!” I can’t hold it in. It feels good to scream. To rant and rave and punch. I keep punching the wheel until I feel my skin crack and bleed. The blood catches me by surprise because I just feel numb – the only pain is from my bleeding heart.
    “Goddamn it. God fucking damn it. Not my beautiful girl, not my Olivia. This is all my fault. All my fucking fault.”
    I can feel beads of sweat on my brow. My shirt feels hot, itchy and suddenly constricting and uncomfortable. And I am suddenly sweaty. I still can’t catch my breath, so I start my car and blast the air conditioner, looking for relief that I know damn well I’m not going to find in here. The kind of relief I need comes from just one look by a dark haired, green-eyed angel that has my heart in the palm of her hand.
    Each slam of my heart in my chest feels like an accusation screaming, “Failure, failure, failure.”
    Oh god, he touched her. He put his hands on her; hurt her. Closing my eyes, I picture her face. Her beautiful face. I wonder if she has any idea that her green eyes twinkle with love and a hint of mischief when she looks at me. Such expressive eyes. I can tell what she’s thinking by just one look. Those eyes are the window to her soul. I thought I would never see them again. The thought makes me groan in pain.
    I picture her skin, her hair. I hear her laugh. I can see the curves of her body. In my mind, she’s smiling at me. Then, like a flash of lightning I see her eyes alight with fear and I picture her lying on a bed somewhere, drugged up, with a monster. I see him touch her, look at her, want her. I imagine him kissing her. Squeezing her too tight and hurting her.
    “Were you abused…”
    Suddenly, the devil invades my mind like a thief in the night and my thoughts take an unanticipated flight, bringing me agony and pain. I’m consumed and tormented by thoughts