Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Her eyes move over my face and my clothes and her mouth presses into a thin line. Just then the dark sky opens and a light rain gathers. She pulls her light jacket tighter around herself. The dew drops gathering on her coat and in her dark brunette hair.
I don’t know how, but understanding passes between us.
“Let’s go,” she says quietly. Keeping my hand in hers, she leads the way out of the alley and quickly down the street. She hustles to keep up with my gait and we stay on the sidewalk on the opposite street that’s mostly residential, lacks streetlights, and barely a soul is out on this side of the street.
Questions race through my mind. It’s all too much. It’s like a whirlwind in my mind with nothing sitting still long enough for me to think clearly about anything.
What was I doing over here? How did she know to find me? Who’s fucking blood is on me?
I don’t ask any questions. I just go with her, matching her fast, determined pace. She looks all around us as we go back to my house. Her hand is tight on mine.
Protecting me. Her… protecting me. My gut twists and a voice in the back of my head screams that I’m pathetic. It sounds like him. Like Mr. Jay and the other guards. Their voices chase me down the street, urging me to walk faster and get home. Where I can lock the door and just try to think. Try to remember.
Nobody’s following us that I can see. Although the adrenaline coursing through my veins makes my hands tremble.
I’m still a little shaken up about finding myself in that alley by the time she opens my door, and once we’re in, she closes and locks it. I watch her as she stares at the locked door a moment longer and then faces me.
My chest is still heaving and I don’t know what to say or how to explain a damn thing.
I try to remember her name and at this moment, I can’t. That causes more panic in me, so much so I can’t help but to bring my hands to my hair and walk away.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Her hand brushing my shoulder makes me pull back and I swallow hard before turning to face her. She’s a good foot shorter than me. Those wide eyes stare up at me, still riddled with concern. Her nose wrinkles with sympathy.
“Come with me. It won’t do us any good to stand here.”
My eyes roam over her face as she takes my hand in hers. What’s her name?
I remember her head tossed back against the wall and the arch of her throat and the sounds she made as I filled her again and again. I remember the way she said my name and how her fingernails bit into my skin through my shirt.
In the bathroom, she flicks the light on. We both wince. I look even worse in the mirror. There’s a lot more blood than I thought.
Where did it come from?
How did I get this much blood all over me?
My pulse pounds in my ears as I wait for her to ask questions I don’t know the answer to. But she doesn’t.
“Okay,” she says briskly. “Let me help you out of your clothes. We need to get you cleaned up.” She drops her coat first, and wipes her hair back, slightly damp from the rain.
She starts the shower for me and sticks her hand in to make sure the temperature is right. She nods to herself. She’s going to take care of me.
I stand in disbelief for a moment and then start to unbutton my shirt. The flannel is damp at my shoulders.
She glances down at the ground at my shoes. I follow her gaze. They appear clean. No blood that I can tell. “That’s good, I think. You can hop in, and I’ll deal with your clothes.”
I strip down, watching her watch me and it’s eerie how I’m able to compare between then and now. When I was just a kid and had to do the same.
The memories haunt me and I try to push them away, but they scream at me to remember. How could I forget? What’s her name?
She has my bloody clothes in a little bundle in her arms. I wonder if she’s pretending to be okay.
She looks into my eyes and offers me a thin smile as steam from the shower flows into the room.
“Get in,” she says gently. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
She leaves the bathroom for a few minutes, and then the door opens. I can hear her rummaging around in my medicine cabinet.
Water sluices down over my hair and my body, tinged red. It flows down the drain. The blood is disappearing before my eyes. Once it’s all gone, I hope it’s like it never existed.