Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I’m awake,” I gasp. Another scream tries to fight its way out of my mouth, but I swallow it and reach for Hansel. His chest rises and falls under my hand. I blink toward the bedroom door. “I saw—I think I saw something. I think—”
“It was just a dream.” He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Nothing’s here.”
“No,” I argue. “Maybe I didn’t see anything, but there’s—I heard something. Something woke me up. I wasn’t dreaming.”
He turns my face to his and kisses me. He’s tender and sweet. And slow. His love begs my heart to slow. My hands tremble and I try to look past him but he kisses me again.
That grounds me a little. I can breathe when he’s kissing me. Not very deeply, but better than I was before. My lungs work, and I inhale between kisses, hoping my heart will stop pounding.
Something woke me up. I know it. My body reacted like someone had touched me. Someone who wasn’t Hansel.
I break the kiss and glance around the room. My vision is bleary from having fallen asleep, but there’s nothing here. The broom is still in the corner. Hansel’s clothes and mine remain on the floor. The bedroom door is open, but there’s no figure hovering at the foot of the bed or on the floor.
We’re alone, but I don’t feel alone.
Another wave of goosebumps rolls over my arms. Hansel bends his head and kisses my shoulder. “Cold?”
“No, I just think—” I look at the doorway again. There’s nobody standing there, but the shadows aren’t comforting. They don’t look…safe. “I think something happened. I don’t know what. I want to leave.”
“I don’t see anyone. Nothing’s different from when we got into bed. It’s too dark to leave, but let me stoke the fire. That’ll help.”
Hansel climbs out of bed, it creaks with his weight, and for a few seconds, my mind is blank except for him. I grip the covers tight around me. How could I think about anything else when he looks like that? He’s always been lean, but now his muscles are carved out from the work he’s done. He’s loose and relaxed as he stretches his arms over his head, slips his trousers on, then pads over to the grate and takes the poker from metal holder nearby. As he does I slip my chemise and tunic on.
When Hansel stirs the embers, the fire jumps up again, little flames catching. It grows and grows once he’s turned his back. The fire is alive. There’s nothing to burn and yet it dances with a heat that it shouldn’t.
“Hansel…” I say, my voice small.
“Yes?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, crouched in front of the fire, and my mouth goes dry.
“Do you think—”
There’s a sound in the next room—a metallic thump, like something’s falling. My hands whip to my mouth to prevent me from screaming and my body turns to ice that no fire could melt. She’s here. I know she is.
I scramble out of the bed, dragging the quilt with me, and run to Hansel. It’s only a couple of steps, but he’s on his feet by the time I get there, the poker held out in front of him. He puts his arm out and pushes me behind him.
“Who’s there?” he shouts in the direction of the other room. “Answer me.”
Nobody answers. My body trembles as I look past him. My hair feels like it’s standing on end.
Hansel keeps his feet planted and his arm out, but I can feel his heart hammering. Someone’s in here. I don’t want this to be how we die. I don’t want this to be another nightmare.
“Who’s there?” Hansel calls again, his voice stronger and full of a danger for whoever stands there in disobedience and silence.
We killed her once, I think. We’ll do it again if we have to. Although my eyes sting with the painful memories, I straighten my shoulders and wait. I’ll do whatever it takes to leave with Hansel by my side.
The wind blows across the roof of the cottage. It’s sturdy, unlike the thatch at Hansel’s house, which regularly lets in the wind and rain. What sounds like branches tip-taps over our heads. We both look up, but the sound doesn’t come again.
“Stay behind me, Gretel,” Hansel orders in a murmur. “Stay close. I’m going to see what that was.”
He moves cautiously toward the door. I keep the quilt tight around me, though I know a quilt won’t be enough if the witch is in the next room. I don’t think anything will be enough if the witch is in the next room.
Hansel pauses at the doorway, the poker in front of him, and leans across. His eyes go wide although I can’t see why.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice shaking.