Amara Chapman, an extraordinarily beautiful yet shy, unassuming girl, is torn from her home and all she'd ever known when her grandmother suddenly passes away.
Reluctantly sent to live with her estranged father in Chicago, he wants nothing to do wi...
Another week has passed, and Amara is still mum on the subject of coming to live with me, unfortunately.
I'm trying to be patient, reminding myself where she comes from and what she's been through, but it's hard...
In fact, I feel as if I'm ready to snap.
Not at her...not at all, but just in general.
I haven't killed since her scumbag father and it's getting to me.
That and the fact that I haven't had sex in a while either...
Amara is only 15 years old and has a long recovery ahead of her – both physically and mentally, and we aren't technically a couple yet...or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
I've never had a girlfriend, but I do know that a relationship takes two consenting adults, which Amara is neither an adult nor consenting to any sort of relationship with me...yet.
And Mary Palmer and her five sisters just aren't cutting it anymore...
As I spin around in my desk chair, internally warring with myself, Kate, as usual, calls me to tend to my next appointment.
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My day drones on much the same as it always does, but my urges are nagging at me...demanding to be taken care of.
As my day here at the office comes to a close and I slip my coat on, I feel as if I have the Devil on one shoulder – me, of course, and an angel on the other...an angel that oddly looks like Amara.
Fuck!
I've never felt this way. Is it guilt?
Surely not...
I've never felt guilty about anything.
As I continue my internal battle, I head to Amara's room.
I walk in, passing one of the nurses on my way, and greet her as always.
After I check everything over, I take a seat beside her.
I make uncomfortable small talk with her as I'm itching to leave for once...
The urge to go fuck or kill is overwhelming.
"What's wrong, doc...I mean Aris?" Amara asks innocently with her eyes looking upon my face in concern.
Not helping...
"Nothing...just...I'm not feeling too well right now," I lie...or am I?
I mean, I am a sick fuck. I've always known that.
"Well, you should go get you some rest," she says sweetly. "I wish I could make you some of my chicken noodle soup," she smiles sadly. "It rights all your wrongs and anything else that ails ya."
