Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3) by Allison White

Author:Allison White [White, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Limitless Publishing LLC
Published: 2018-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The insatiable sound of one of Bach’s concertos bounces all around the room. The moonlight pours in through the sky-high windows, sparkling like a crystal pond in the dark wood. Everyone else is asleep, but I can’t, and I can’t leave this seat. It’s warm and inviting and is laced with super-glue, keeping me firmly in place. And I don’t mind one bit.

I roll the wooden pencil between my teeth as I bounce my fingers off the keys, making my own musical variations. I keep track of the differences and return the taste of bark on my tongue, repeatedly. I begin humming a nonsensical tune and rock back and forth as my fingers run along the white keys, nudging the black keys and creating music that wraps around me with a delicate grip.

“I haven’t seen Noah around today…” My mother’s voice seeps through the room like cold venom.

I stop playing instantly.

I remove the pencil from my lips, then tell her, “He left earlier, haven’t seen him since.” I move my fingers to the keys and barely press down, instead listening to her heels click-clacking on the wooden floor. Even at night, she wears sky-high heels. I wonder if her ankles ever ache. I wonder if she even feels pain anymore…

“Why is that?” She is persistent, as usual.

I sigh. “Mother…”

“Don’t mother me,” she gasps.

“Why shouldn’t I when you’re so driven to set me up with another, without my thoughts on the matter?” I question her.

“Because it is what’s right.” She turns to me and forces me to face her, clutching my hands. “You were once so determined, so focused—you had your entire future laid out, but that damned boy…” She takes a breath before she could lose her façade of being calm, collected, her usual persona. “I just want to help get you…back on track. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?” She smiles, flashing me her great white teeth, like they are thirty-two advocates for her.

“I…” I look away from her wide, manic eyes and tap a random key. “I guess not.”

“Good, you should let your mother help you.” She cups my chin and jerks my head to the side to meet her narrowed eyes. “Because Mother knows best.” She runs the tips of her fingers round my ear, pushing hair behind it, with a knowing smile that spelled cruel intentions. “Okay?” Her grip becomes a tad tighter, and I grimace inwardly but remain kept together on the exterior. I can’t let her see that on the inside…I am absolutely terrified of her.

“Okay.” I smile through the pain of her nails in my skin, and she stares at me…until she smiles again like a saint and pats my cheek.

“Good girl. Goodnight, sweetheart.” Her voice is soft and makes me feel unguarded. And I am an ice sculpture, frozen, when she leans forward and plants her lips on my cheek. Her rosy perfume brings a tear to my eye, but she doesn’t seem to mind or care. She backs away and leaves the room.

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