Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
She tried to defend me. That’s all, she tried to defend me, and this is what happens to her, all because of that monster. That sick fucking monster.
I let out a terrified, rage-fueled cry, and I get to my feet.
Red’s back is to me. Mom’s on the ground, curled up in a ball, trying to protect herself. He kicks her again, spittle flying from his lips as he screams at her.
I take a step. Take another. And then I’m running, the hammer cocked back, as a wild scream from years and years of anger and hate rips itself from my throat.
Redmond has barely enough time to pause and look over his shoulder—
Before the hammer smashes him in the face.
His skull is shockingly solid. It’s like hitting a bowling ball. He grunts, makes a strange, muttered groan. Blood spurts from his nose. I hit him again, and again, slamming the hammer into his skull. More blood leaks from his eyes, from a caved-in wound on his forehead. I beat him more, howling, as Redmond topples backwards. I try to jump on him—
When hands grab me from behind.
“Easy, baby, easy.”
I thrash, kicking and screaming. “I’m going to kill him! Let me kill him! Fuck him, fuck you, Redmond, fuck you, I hate you, I hate you!”
“Caroline!” Finn’s voice in my ear. It’s just about the only thing that could snap me out of this frenzy. His strong arms grip me tightly and he pulls the hammer from my fist. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I got you. It’s okay.”
I break then. I sob hard, gasping and choking like a little baby, spit and snot rolling down my face. It’s an ugly cry, a nasty one, and I don’t care. Redmond’s on the ground, twitching slightly, trying to drag himself away. He’s making these inhuman little gruntings and bleats like he’s trying to use words but can’t form them. He leaves a smear of blood on the ground.
“I can fix this,” Finn says, sitting me down on some spare wood. “You get your mom out of here. If she asks what happened, you just say we found her after the explosion.”
“What explosion?”
“Just trust me. Can you do that? We can still salvage this, but we have to move fast. I’m positive someone must’ve heard you yelling. The cops might be on the way.”
“Oh, shit,” I whisper as cold reality hits me. I wipe my face on my sleeve. “I ruined it.”
“Not yet. Get your mother back to her car. Do it fast, baby. Can you do that for me?”
“I can do it.” I touch his face. My fingers leave a bloody streak on his nose. I lean forward and kiss him desperately. “I’m so sorry. I messed up.”
He smiles gently and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. I’m proud of you. Now, get your mother and go.”
He releases me. I sit for a beat, gathering my strength, as he casually strides over to Redmond. Finn grabs my brother by the ankle and pulls him, dragging him along. He’s saying something and he’s got the most beautiful smile on his face, like he’s having the best time in the world. Redmond’s clawing at the dirt, but he’s got no strength. Before I look away, I realize one of Red’s eyeballs is hanging from a thick knot of veins and his entire nose is caved in.
I did that to him.
Mom’s only half conscious. She’s crying quietly. Her shoulders shake and she only slightly responds when I lift her. Fortunately, she’s aware enough to stumble along with me. I take her weight, or as much as I can, and we stagger back toward where she parked the car.
“You need a hospital,” I tell her quietly like I’m explaining something to a child. “You got injured in the explosion. Redmond didn’t make it. He was giving you a tour of the grounds, but he’s not good with the tools or the generator, and there was some kind of accident. It was a horrible explosion and you’re lucky to have survived.”
Mom looks at me, her right eye swollen nearly shut. “Explosion? What explosion?”
The fireball roars into the sky and the ground trembles with the force of the blast. I stumble and Mom braces herself against her car, gasping for air. The sky brightens like it’s noon for a few seconds before fading away. Flames roll toward the clouds and pieces of metal slam to the ground like falling hailstones.
I smile at the carnage and pat Mom’s arm lightly. She’s staring, open-mouthed, but doesn’t look upset. It’s more like she’s seeing a host of angels floating down through the sky. Her salvation come at last.
“That explosion.”
22
CAROLINE
The doctors all say Mom got lucky. Her injuries were bad, but not fatal. She’d heal eventually. “It could have been so much worse,” an older nurse says, shaking her head with a smile. “Someone must’ve been looking out for you.”