BooksBarbecue
Back VICTOR Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Cover
  2. PART I
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. PART II
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. PART III
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. PART IV
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. PART V
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. PART VI
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. ALSO BY THEODORA TAYLOR
  44. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The memory made me wipe away my tears and go up the stairs to the first bedroom on the right. This was the one I only used for storage since I never had guests. I rooted around the dorm room boxes that I still hadn’t gotten around to unpacking for some reason. Maybe I’d been in denial. I’d clung to the idea that this nightmare would be over sooner than later. But Victor had disabused me of that notion last night.

I found what I was looking for in the last box I searched. A sketchbook that I’d bought for an art class back at Mount Holyoke. It had been the final semester of my senior year, and I’d already sent off all of my internship and med school applications. I was locked into a career in medicine, so I’d figured it would be okay for me to take an art class. Just one.

But I’d ended up dropping out the day before the class was due to start. I’d told myself it was because I didn’t need the credit and could use the extra time to chill and catch up on all the shows I hadn’t gotten around to watching during the four years I’d been studying like a maniac. But really, it had been because I was afraid.

I hadn’t drawn in years. And the last time I let myself have art, I’d fallen for Victor and almost ended up at RhIDS. I’d thought avoiding the class would keep something like that from happening again. Would keep me on the right path. I hadn’t wanted to mess up the unexpected course correction I’d received from my father.

But the truth was, Victor was always going to destroy me. He’d just been lying in wait while I was at college.

Now here I was in this huge house, my planned life in ruins. In a prison of Victor’s making, feeling utterly tragic. And that had only been our first anniversary. I still had nine more to go.

So, no more running away from art.

I needed it, I decided. Then I took the sketchbook back down to the kitchen counter.

Art might be the one thing that would keep me sane for the next nine years. That was what I told myself as I put my pencil on a sketchbook for the first time in five years.

But it felt like a long shot.

12

VICTOR

Dawn had stopped answering her old phone. Victor knew this because, for two months following their anniversary, he read all of the increasingly frustrated messages that came in from her friends and family in reply to the email she’d supposedly sent. He’d even listened to the voicemails.