Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
The Feast would begin in three weeks. Fifty-some tributes would descend upon The Preserve once they made it through The Becoming. The hunters would greet them once they were presented at The Wrecking Ball, and then The Hunt would begin.
Jack was already looking forward to it, but not the way most men did. They were there to chase the does. Jack stayed in the shadows, the perfect vantage to hunt the hunters.
Chapter Three
The Fallen
Jackie didn’t know how many days had passed since he arrived at the chancellor’s house. Time moved differently in the presence of giants.
Hours raced like minutes.
Minutes dragged like centuries.
Sharp breaths held for eternities.
And heartbeats jerked out of rhythm.
When Jackie was finally driven home, he lacked the strength to rush out of the car—no matter how much he wanted to. His body moved slowly, so as not to hurt any worse. Small steps. Shallow breaths. The closer he came to the stoop, the more he shook.
The car didn’t linger and was gone before he made it through the door.
“Mummy?”
The floorboards creaked from above and he looked up, confused if he was in trouble or safe. Her eyes locked with his from where she stood on the landing, but neither moved.
Did she know? Did they tell her what he did? The chancellor said it was their little secret, so he wasn’t sure.
“Jackie…” she finally whispered, the word pained and raw. She rushed down the stairs, hand on the banister so she didn’t fall. She didn’t stop until she pulled him into her arms.
He winced at the sudden contact.
“Are you hurt?”
Words stuck in his throat as she lifted his shirt, inspecting his back and belly. He didn’t like looking at the dark marks there, so he closed his eyes.
“Oh, my poor baby.” When she hugged him again, he tensed. Hugs weren’t the same anymore. Nothing was.
Pain vibrated through him as he tried to stifle a sob. Sweat gathered like cold mist on his skin as he shook violently. She clutched his shoulders, but even that was too much. Turning away, he lurched forward and vomited all over the floor.
Chocolates and greasy burgers and too many horrific memories to evacuate. Belting out a sob, he fell to his knees. When his mother came behind him, he instinctively scrabbled away, cowering and confused with his back to the wall.
“Oh, baby, it’s okay.”
He shook his head, telling her it wasn’t, but he couldn’t find the words to explain why. He just knew he didn’t want to be touched anymore.
Her hand rushed to her mouth as she stared at him. He hadn’t meant to make her cry.
“I’m sorry, Mummy.”
She shook her head and looked away.
His stomach twisted, making the soreness inside that much worse. He didn’t know what to do, so he covered his face to hide.
“Don’t cry,” she said, close but no longer touching. “You’re not in any trouble, baby.” Slowly, she reached forward to brush delicate fingers through his hair, but stopped when he turned away, shutting his eyes. “I made soup. It might help your tummy.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She looked at him with concern. “They must have fed you real well.”
Jackie didn’t want to think of that. He wanted to forget everything. “Can I go to bed please?” he asked, dragging his wet nose against his sleeve.
She looked at him then, her chin wobbling and her eyes brimming with tears. Finally, after a long moment, she nodded.
Pushing himself off the floor, he stepped around the mess. “I’m sorry I threw up.”
She didn’t respond, only silently watched him with that haunted look in her eyes.
When he made it to his room, he couldn’t sleep. Every time his eyes closed, he saw things he didn’t want to see. And when he started to doze, his body jerked awake as if hands were reaching for him.
Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke to pee. Mum wasn’t in her room. He found her downstairs, huddled in a chair, sleeping.
Jackie wandered into the kitchen and paused. Where there had been empty shelves before, tins now stacked three deep. Beans and vegetables and cans of milk. His belly was too sore to eat any of it.
He returned to the den but didn’t enter when he heard a noise. A real wood fire burned in the fireplace. Jackie crept closer, silently watching as his mother placed another log in the flames.
Her face looked sad, and he believed he was to blame. When she sat down, she started to cry. He almost went to her then, but froze when she snapped, “Stop it. What’s done is done.”
She moved to kneel on the floor in front of the table where strange objects scattered across the surface. Her hand shook as she tapped white powder from a small vial onto the table and cut into it with a blade. She carefully scooped the powder onto a spoon and held it over a candle flame, cooking it until it melted into a liquid.