Just a spur of the moment story, but wondering if some people could comment to see if it is worth writing more. Please review/comment. Thanks in advance!
“Dixie, you need to come home.” My mother’s voice was low and steady, as if she was taking deep breaths. I laughed, tilting back my head just so and clapping my hand over my mouth as if it was the funniest thing in the world. That was just one of those things that popular girls did—laughed for no reason. One of my best friends, Zara O’ Ryan looked up from where she was sitting, a mere five feet away. She stopped painting her nails---midnight blue, in case you were wondering---and bit her pink lower lip. Zara mouthed something, but I ignored it. My other three best friends, Lauren, Ivy, and Riana, all stared at me, giggling as I did. Ivy snatched a Sharpie off of her desk and doodled an image on her thumbnail. Ivy showed it around, causing Riana and Lauren to ooh and ah. Ivy had always been the artist. My mother inhaled heavily and exhaled quickly. “Dixie, please, I need you to come home right now.” I rolled my eyes and stuck my finger in my mouth, fake gagging. My best friends and I were looking for our prom dresses in magazines as if nothing else mattered. Lauren wacked me with a magazine and Ivy snatched it from her, thumbing through the dog-eared Teen Vogue with interest. I glanced at my phone, where all was silent. Riana moodily pressed her back against the wall, distractedly braiding several strands of her hot pink streaked hair.
“Why mom, did I leave my lava lamp on again?” I said mockingly, my eyes scanning the pile of things we had splayed out across Ivy’s bright orange rug. I reached for the bowl of fruit and popped a grape in my mouth, biting into overdramatically. My room was a constant source of irritation between my mother and me. It was either too messy to find anything or too clean to find anything. My mother never made up her mind. I snickered and Zara rolled her latte brown eyes. Ivy and Riana studied me curiously. Lauren was too preoccupied with rooting through the bag of Chex Mix for an M&M to do anything. “C’mon mom, I just got here. I’m sleeping over, remember? We’re going shopping tomorrow? Do you not care about anything important?” I practically spat, and even though it was already silent in the room, my friends got quieter somehow. It was only four PM and already our sleepover had gotten off to a terrible start.
“Come home, Dixie, just for an hour. I need to tell you something.” My mother’s voice was faint and pleading. Normally, I would hang up and wait to deal with it the next day. She’d yell at me and scold me, then say I was grounded. In an hour, she’d come up to my room and give me a kiss on the center of my smooth forehead and let me go out again. That happened a lot, ever since I turned eighteen and my father bought me a car. Yet, I’d never heard my mother sound so awfully frank. It was as if she was finally putting her foot down. I didn’t like it, but I respected it. I mumbled a response into the phone and said good-bye to my friends. I slid into my car and revved the engine as I pulled out of the driveway. My friends jumped up and down in response. I sped away, making the five minute trip to my house in only two.
~~~
Instantly, I knew something was wrong. Upon arriving, I saw a police car in my driveway. Hysterical thoughts ran through head. Preston got into a fight at school. Leni had an argument with Mr. Fitzner again. Finn was drinking. Clair. . . . On the last one, I laughed. My baby sister, Clair was the sweetest thing. Finn and Preston could go to Juvie for those two things, but I doubted that was what was wrong. Leni and her English teacher, Mr. Fitzner, had some---ahem---‘creative differences’, but I doubted the police would come for that. Instead of sitting in my car and wondering, I shoved open the door and slammed it back shut before running to the front door. I knocked, not wanting to find my key, and the door was answered by a slim policeman. He came outside, shutting the door behind him. I recognized him from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it. He was in his early twenties and gorgeous; with minty green eyes and a tan that made his white teeth pop. His hair was mussed and cute, yet it annoyed me when he asked, “Who are you?” His tone was strict and slightly irritated.
“Dixie Landon, I live here.” I said hotly, placing a hand on my small hip. I narrowed my clear blue eyes and tucked a strand of blond behind my left ear. The officer’s face lit up and he smiled ever-so beautifully at me.
“Hey, Dixie, remember me? It’s Theo Calvin. We dated, remember?” Theo Calvin gazed at me and I did remember, all at once. Theo was four years older than me and we’d dated my whole freshman year. He’d taken me to his senior prom and we’d kissed in the gazebo in my backyard. It had been my very first, certainly not his, but for me it was special. It was funny that I hadn’t recognized him, but then again, he did look a lot different. He was thin still, but now his muscles were more . . . developed per say. His hair was cut short unlike the shaggy skater-type hair he’d worn in high school and his eyes weren’t hidden behind sunglasses that he’d been fond of four years ago. “We kissed in your gazebo,” Theo reminded me and I felt all fluttery inside, but then I remembered why I’d rushed home.
“Hi, Theo, it’s great to see you, but I really need to get inside,” I told him and I bit my lip as his expression pained. “We’ll catch up, I promise,” I added and he brightened. “Let’s go,” I said and we went inside. My parents were sitting on the black leather couch, holding hands. Their faces were pale and scared, like a deer caught in the headlights. My brothers and sisters were nowhere to be seen. “Mom!” I yelled, and she jumped up, hugging me tightly. “What happened?” I asked, and Theo Calvin grimaced.
“Baby, sit down,” Mom said, collapsing back on the couch. Uneasily, I sat next to Theo on the couch. Theo Calvin offered a smile, but my mother did not. “Baby, I need you to stay calm, alright?” Mom inquired her voice small and quiet. “You need to stay strong, okay? Promise me you’ll be okay through all of this.” I nodded slowly, wondering what was happening. Mom heaved a sigh. “Baby,” she began, calling me by my nickname again (our inside joke, since I was the oldest), before saying, “Your brothers and sister are staying with grandma for a while.” Before the word ‘why’ could form on my lips, she said cautiously, “Clair’s been kidnapped, Dixie.” Silence filled the air. After a pause, my mother said, “She was playing in the front yard one moment. I ran inside to change clothes because she’s soaked me with the hose. Finn was supposed to watch her. Preston yelled from inside that Finn’s friend was on the line. Finn told Preston to watch Clair, but Preston didn’t hear. While Finn was on the phone, Clair vanished. They ruled out running away since she’s so little . . . and also because it was so abrupt, apparently not planned by anyone except the kidnapper.” Her words clung in the air like humidity. Clair was five. Five year olds were supposed to play with Barbie dolls, kick soccer balls, and practice cartwheels. Five year olds were not supposed to be kidnapped. Clair was so small; she looked a lot younger than a soon-to-be kindergartener. No one deserved to be taken, especially not baby Clair. A single tear slithered itself down my cheek and dripped onto the pocket of my shorts. Like a dam, my tear ducts erupted. I folded my legs Indian-style and laid my head on my knee. I let the tears stream down from my face without a thought. Officer Calvin patted my back and my mother crawled over on her hands and knees and smoothed my hair. “It’s alright, baby, we’ll find her, Dixie.” She assured me, but she didn’t sound so sure.
My throat was tight and every time I tried to speak, I choked on tears. I made sobbed into my hands, the wetness multiplying with every thought of Clair. She was my littlest sister, my baby. Her full name was Elaine Clair Landon and I called her E Clair when she was being sweet. She liked Doctor Barbie best and made Barbie date the Derek doll. Clair liked her hair in a ponytail over a bun, braids over pigtails, and free rather than fixed. She was gone.
“Who would’ve done this?” I wondered aloud, sitting up. My mother looked uncomfortable suddenly. She slipped back onto the couch and slid in next to my father. Mom clung to my dad’s hand and he smiled weakly. Theo Calvin shifted, leaning forward a little. My father looked miserable, but unlike my mom, he didn’t seem nervous. My mother kept fidgeting, I couldn’t help but notice. She picked lint off of her polo shirt and smoothed it anxiously. Mom turned her wedding ring on her finger, round and round it went. She scratched her nose, blinked her eyes, licked her lips, and tugged at her ear. Even Officer Calvin observed this. The awkwardness filled the room, suffocating us all. Theo Calvin ran a tan hand through his dark hair and sighed. I stared at him, wondering how he was going to find my sister.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to need to ask a few questions.” Theo Calvin said in a booming voice that people generally associated to police officers. He looked good in his blue uniform which was ironed and fit him like a glove. The gold pin on his chest read Calvin in thick, bold letters. My mother nodded rapidly, and Theo Calvin went on. “Is there anyone who would want to hurt Clair?” He asked, pulling a pen and note-pad from his belt. Theo Calvin pressed the button on the pen, click, click, click. My mother stayed silent. My father flinched. Their unwillingness to speak scared me.
“No, I’m sure no one wanted to hurt her,” I said, surprising myself as I did so. “She is the nicest little girl. Everyone loves her.” Theo Calvin scribbled something down; clicking his pen once he was finished. My mother smiled at my words, but they were all true, so easy to say. Everyone liked Clair. She was beautiful, sweet, caring, and possessed a certain something that made her seem perfect. She was like a Barbie, she could do anything. She did cheer when she was three years old and later went on to do gymnastics and competition cheer. Clair did tumbling four times a week for her competitions and was high up in gymnastics. She had beach-blond hair and stunning blue eyes with tan skin. Clair was small and thin, a little taller than some kids her age, but not too tall. Theo Calvin gazed at my mother and father, but they stayed silent. Cowards, I thought. Why couldn’t they just tell the cop about Clair? It was easy enough and it would help. Right? When Theo Calvin was sure they weren’t going to say anything, he went on. Click, click, click, went the pen.
“What does she look like, exactly? I have her picture, but I need a detailed description, please, for the drawing of her.” Theo Calvin asked, thumping his dark boots against the floor. More silence and then I narrowed my eyes. Was I going to have to do everything? I was eighteen years old and my parents were the ones being childish.
“Blond hair like you wouldn’t believe. It’s long, golden almost, and it hangs down to just above her butt. She’s three foot nine, last time we checked. She weighs a little less than average, maybe about thirty-eight pounds. She’s tan. Her eyes are the bluest sky blue. She’s talkative, even to strangers. If she was in trouble, she’d tell someone or escape. Clair’s got a birthmark in the shape of a heart on her left shoulder. It’s a little wobbly and you have to turn your head sideways, but it’s there.” I heaved a sigh after this. Theo Calvin jotted down more things and I didn’t go on until he stopped. “A dark freckle is on the left side of her jaw. I think it’s the only freckle she ever had. She’s got a small white scar above her eyebrow. Clair’s got small white teeth. Her front tooth is wiggly. She likes to part her hair to the right. It’s always straight. She’s got pink lips that are always pursed. She’s beautiful.” Theo Calvin looked up at me in surprise. My voice sound distant, even to me, and it was getting smaller by the second. My mother raised her eyebrows.
“Dixie, how do you remember all those things?” She asked me, biting her nail. “I didn’t know that Clair’s front tooth was wiggly. And does that birthmark really look like a heart?” My mother stared at me curiously. My heart ached. I missed Clair more and more by the second. My stomach did a front flip. How did I know all these things about my sister? I just did, I thought coolly, just like remembering to tie your shoes or how to ride a bike. I just remembered. Naturally my mother had no clue about Clair’s loose front tooth or her jagged heart-birthmark. I’d always been close to my siblings, far closer than my mother and father ever had. Like, I knew that Preston planned to go to college with his girlfriend of three years; I knew that Finn had trouble with math, and I knew that Leni wanted to go to an art academy. My mother gazed at me expectantly, her eyes glossy with tears.
I was having trouble thinking of a response. Before I could mull this over, it popped out. “I love her.” I answered, blinking twice and then examining my newly painted green fingernails. “She’s my sister,” I added before saying, “You’re the one that should know this stuff, not me. You are her mother.” I glared at my mother. How dare she leave my baby sister alone with Finn? Finn was only a freshman next year. She should’ve known that he has the attention span of a squirrel. Clair shouldn’t have been kidnapped. This was my mother’s fault. My mother seemed stunned, too afraid to talk. “I mean I leave at three and I come back at four and my sister’s kidnapped? How does that work?” I asked, appalled. “Then, you shuttle my siblings off to grandma who lives a block away, call the cops, and bring me home. You let me answer all these questions while you sit there petrified!” I yelled this, causing my father to wince as if he’d been slapped. Theo Calvin stared at me with a look of disbelief on his chiseled face. “And now we’re all sitting here, fat and happy when we should be searching for Clair!” I breathed heavily, my head spinning as my mother frowned.
“We have a search team out,” my mother replied stoically. She seemed completely calm after my bout of anger and Theo Calvin rumpled his hair with his hand. The muteness enveloped the room, causing each one of us to shift weirdly. The reserve at us up, leaving behind several crumbs of gloom and anguish. “I’m sorry that you feel this way, Dixie,” she said to me and then stood up. She brushed an invisible something off of her stomach and retreated, most likely to her room. Theo Calvin stiffened and turned to my father.
“Sir is there any place where Dixie and I can talk. I think she can really help us find Clair.” Theo Calvin blinked and my father nodded.
“Downstairs there’s a table and chairs. Go ahead and interrogate, I suppose. I’ll go talk to my wife,” my father heave a great sigh as if this was an impossible task. He stood up and faced the stairs as if they were the worst chore.
“Let’s go,” I suggested, leading him downstairs to the finished basement. My father had long ago turned it into a bar/office/workout room/ game room. We sat near the bar and Theo Calvin immediately pulled out his pen. Click, click, click. “Ask away, officer,” I said somewhat teasingly. The whole room felt tense and the fact that he was a policeman wasn’t helping anything. You know when you’re in the principal’s office, and you might not even be in trouble but you still get that nervous feeling in your stomach? That’s what it felt like sitting with a cop. Butterflies were rampaging in my belly and I suffered through an immense headache after yelling at my mother. I wondered where I’d gotten the nerve to do that. I’d never yelled at her before. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from finding out about Clair. I didn’t know, but it made me grow hot to think about it. A red flush crept up my neck. I stood up and went to the bar and pulled out my father’s scotch. What was I doing? There was a cop sitting in my basement. Did I honestly think he was going to let me drink? Yet, it was Theo Calvin, the guy who’d drank more than his fair share of scotch in my basement. I normally didn’t drink, but at a time like this, who was to stop me. Not even Theo Calvin did anything as I sat back down with the mostly full bottle. “I’m ready,” I prodded, twisting the cap off of the scotch and taking an overly large swig. It burned in my throat and left a searing feeling in my chest.
“Do you mind?” Theo Calvin asked, gesturing towards the bottle. I shook my head, causing wisps of blond to fall into my face. He took the glass bottle and tilted it towards his mouth. I watched as the liquid fell into his mouth. Theo Calvin made a face as it went down. I stifled a giggle. He grinned at me, causing the room to escalate in heat. I felt my palms grow moist and my forehead was sweltering. Then again, the basement didn’t have air conditioning. “So, does Clair get along well with your siblings?” He studied me with those big bottle green eyes. I blinked, as if trying to remember.
“I think,” I started slowly, “that she liked me best. I’m not saying it because it’s me either. Finn and Preston loved her, but they’re boys. All they care about is sports and girls. Leni is the most distant towards everyone. She tells all her secrets to me. She’s very loud and outspoken at school, but she kind of blends in at home. She and Clair had their rifts, but Leni would never hurt her.” As he scrawled something down, I reached for the bottle. I took a gulp of the scotch. I felt that same fuzzy feeling in my chest afterwards.
“Okay, good, now tell me the truth here,” Theo Calvin instructed, gazing at me. “Is your mom overly involved in Clair’s life, moderately involved, or not involved at all? I know this may seem like an odd question, but I was wondering.” The clock that my father had hung on the wall ticked. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock: your time is running out. My mind seemed to think that the longer it took to answer the questions was the more time the kidnapper had to get away. Click, Click, Click. Theo Calvin pressed the button on his pen. He took another round of scotch, then another. As if compiled an answer to his question, he took another shot. I giggled.
“Well, mom doesn’t really get involved,” I said in a mumble. It was true, I knew. I was the one who drove Clair to practices, games, and school. “She just comes sometimes.” Theo Calvin uh-huh-d and passed me the bottle of scotch. I took a swig. Three and counting, I thought, making me giggle again.
“Does Clair get along with everyone?” Theo Calvin asked, taking his fifth shot. He raised his eyebrows, which were neither too thin nor too bushy. His eyes glimmered in the harsh light of the basement.
“Yup, absolutely everybody. Like I told you upstairs, people love Clair. She’s a great kid,” I said joyfully, as if remembering her. I droned on in an overly-cheerful tone, “Yup, I remember this time when I took Clair to White-Water with her friends Sari and Ana. See, Clair’s not afraid of anything so she wanted to go down this super huge waterslide with a bunch of swirls. Sari was all for it, but Ana was not. Even though she really wanted to go, she stayed down with Ana while Sari went with my best friend Zara on the slide. I asked her after why she did that even though she knew that Ana could’ve stayed with me and do you know what she said?” I arched one of my slender eyebrows questioningly. Theo Calvin laughed at this and then shook his head, regaining his cool. “She said that no offense, but Ana didn’t want to hang out with an eighteen year old.” I giggled wildly at this. Then, I remembered the day and felt a wave of sadness spill over me. I’d gone with Zara and taken Clair, Ana, and Sari. We’d went on every waterslide between the five of us and had lunch by the wave pool. The kids had gotten hot dogs while Zara and I had hot pretzels. Zara and I alternated; one of us watching the kids in the wave pool while the other flirted with the boyishly charming blond lifeguard. That was a few weeks ago. I wondered how one week, everything could be fine and then BAM, the next, something terrible happened. Like now. Theo Calvin’s face grew sympathetic. He patted my hand which rested just inches from his on the table. Then, he resumed writing things down.
“If you had to guess, who do you think took Clair?” Theo Calvin inquired. Uneasiness filled my stomach and I thought I might vomit. I sat back in my chair, taking deep breaths. I thought of the people in my town, but couldn’t think of anyone cruel enough. Old Mr. Peters next door was too old, Mr. Crenshaw from across the street was the nicest teacher at Oakton Elementary, Mrs. Bees was going to be Clair’s kindergarten teacher. Ever head of one of those telepathic things that twins had? I thought maybe Clair and I might have one of those so I thought really hard: Dear Clair, please be strong E Clair. I love you and I need you to fight. There, that would do it. I realized how psycho I sounded, but didn’t care. My baby sister was gone and this gave me a little peace. Slowly, I shook my head. Then, I imagined Clair, struggling as someone pushed her into a van. I imagined her small fists flying as she tried to punch, her long toothpick legs kicking as someone shoved her into the seat, and tears slipping off of her high cheekbones. Suddenly, I was very overwhelmed. Everything bothered me, from the way Theo Calvin was clicking his pen to the way the light over our heads was glaring down upon us. I couldn’t help it, but I imagined Clair struggling, because I knew she would. She was always a tough little girl. Tears stung in my eyes but I refused to let them out, washing the lump in my throat down with two more shots of scotch. I felt a buzz in my head and although I felt great, I couldn’t wipe Clair’s fighting image from my mind. Theo Calvin glanced over at me, concerned. As he spoke, his voice seemed deeper than ever.
“Are you okay?” I nodded, but I wasn’t. My stomach did four flips in a row. I drank two more shots before Theo Calvin pulled the bottle away from me.
“Give it back!” I whisper-screamed, punching him in the arm. He grabbed my wrist not unkindly and shushed me. “Give it!” I yelled as softly as possibly. I felt as if I was spinning out of control. I couldn’t stop the tears from pricking in my eyeballs so I finally let the fall. I glanced in the mirror at the bar and saw myself. Red paths trickled all the way down my cheeks and my eyes were puffy and flushed. My head hurt and my hair was smoothed back away from my face. Theo Calvin tried to stop me as I grabbed at the bottle and he let go of my wrist. I shrank back in the corner, crying uncontrollably. Theo Calvin sat at the table as if he was unsure of what to do. I didn’t care. I cried and whimpered like a baby. Clair was gone, my mother was being crazy, and this cop wouldn’t let me have the scotch. I wanted him out, but a lump formed in my throat again, so big I couldn’t find the willpower to speak. No matter how many times I swallowed, it wouldn’t go away. I shook in the corner, feeling cold and alone. I watched as Theo Calvin took two more shots. How dare he steal my alcohol? I was ashamed of how angry I felt that he did this. I’d never gotten drunk and I wasn’t quite sure I was, but I liked that buzzy feeling it gave me. It made me less sad and I didn’t think about Clair when I drank. Theo Calvin seemed a little wobbly now, but he stumbled over with the bottle. He collapsed beside me, but I pushed him away with my hands. “I don’t like you, leave my house NOW!” I whisper-shouted. I didn’t want my parents to see me this way.
“Shh, calm down, Dixie, shh.” Theo Calvin coaxed, causing me to hit him again. “I’m serious, Dixie, stop it, just breathe.” I did, taking greedy gulps of air every two seconds. I exhaled quickly and gulped the air back up like I was afraid it was suddenly going to vanish. After all, that’s what happened to Clair, right? I tried to remember what I’d last said to Clair. I’d been in a rush, flinging things in my duffel bag and ignoring everyone. Right as I was about to fly out the door, Clair appeared.
“Stay here and color with me, Dixie,” Clair had said, puffing out her bottom lip. It was very dark pink, I remembered, because she’d come into my room while I was changing and had applied some magenta lip gloss. Her eyes grew as round as saucers and she blinked rapidly, trying to produce faux tears. “Please?” Her voice had been so innocent and begging, making me want to stay. Yet, I was eighteen, had just graduated, and wanted to spend time with my friends before college.
“I can’t, Clair-Bear,” I had cooed and she’d ran up and given me a hug. I kissed her forehead, the smooth flat surface cool beneath my lips. “I love you E Clair!” I had yelled a little loudly and had scooped her up in my arms and twirled her around. She had giggled and had put on a frown when I set her down. “I really do have to leave,” I had explained and she pouted until I added, “I’ll buy you something at the mall tomorrow.”
She’d given me a hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, “I love you, Dixie.” I was zapped back to the present. At least our parting had been happy. This thought only made me weep more. I laid my head on Theo Calvin’s shoulder and shed tears like an onion sheds its layers.
“It’s going to be okay,” Theo Calvin comforted and he ran his hand through his hair. I sat up and stared at him sharply.
“How do you know?” I snapped, glaring at him. My eyes were throwing daggers into his and I swear steam billowed out of my eardrums. “Has your sister ever been kidnapped?” My voice broke on the word kidnapped and I burst into sobs again. Theo Calvin sighed and for a second he looked like he cared.
“I’m a cop, I see this sometimes. And I’ve rescued pretty much everyone that’s been taken,” He said in an even voice. “I’ll get her back for you.” I noted how he’d said ‘you’ instead of ‘your family’ like a normal cop would’ve. Then I noticed the words ‘pretty much’ in his sentence.
“You mean you only get most of them back? So it’s like a nine out of ten chance?” I asked, sitting up straight. I rubbed tears from my eyes. “Clair has had a lot of nine out ten chances and she’s always the odd one out. What if this is the same type of thing?” I probed him and then realized what I’d just concluded.Clair had a nine out of ten chance of coming home, which meant she had a chance of not coming home. I burst out into tears again. This time, they streamed steadily down my face.
“Shh,” Theo Calvin soothed and he brushed hair out of my eyes with his thumb. He did it again with his other thumb, but this time, he left his thumb there. “It is okay, Dixie, I’ll get her back.” Theo Calvin promised and then, before I had a chance to say a word, he kissed my tears. Peck, peck, peck, all of the tears on the right side of my face were gone. Peck, peck, peck, all of the tears on my left cheek vanished. He slid his thumb down to my chin and cupped it in his hand. Cautiously, he leaned forward. It was as if he was in slow motion, he was being so slow. He stopped and glanced at my eyes as if asking if it was okay. I blinked rapidly. He assumed I’d said okay and leaned forward more. His lips pressed against mine softly. I knew it was wrong to make out with the cop that was trying to help find your sister, but I couldn't help it. His lips were warm and tasted like scotch and sour gummy worms. His hair was soft in my fingers as I ran my hands through it. He placed his hand on my lower back, slowly inching down to my butt. Theo Calvin, my high school boyfriend and I were making out in my basement, I realized. This was different than how he'd kissed me in highschool: soft and short kisses. As we mashed our lips together, I felt something different in a good way, like I was falling in love with him all over again. Then I remember Clair and how she was gone. But I couldn't stop kissing him. Something about him so close to me took every thought from my brain. Theo Calvin and I stood up, breathing cautiously. "Sorry," He said sheepishly, although I could tell he didn't mean it. "It was a bad time, I know, but you just seemed so..." I didn't get to know what I seemed because I pressed up against him, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He pulled away, examining me. "It's going to be okay. We'll find her." Surprisingly, I believed her, if only for a minute.
One suggestion I can give you is to post less at once. People feel really overwhelmed by this much text at one time and are likely to not want to read it because of that. Try to keep it to 1,000-1,500 word blocks, and make "part one" and "part two" if you have to.
First off, from what I read, this sounds like you know what you're doing. You have a hidden knack for writing. You might be getting a few things wrong, but everyone does. Though, at the same time, I like your voice and that's really good. This had a certain maturity in the voice. I'm not sure how to explain it. 
