Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I get a feathery smack in the face just as I realize I must have crushed an egg. I’m so shocked and terrified, I apologize. The raspy hissing of the massive bird makes me back out so fast I slide down on my ass, praying to every entity I know of for the birds not to follow. If those are eagles, they could rip me to shreds with their talons.
My hand is sticky, but now I’m also worried I crawled over their waste and might contract bird flu. Wouldn’t that be a fittingly pathetic end for me after I’ve tried so hard to drag myself out of the hole I was born into?
I’m frantic when my hand finds yet another tunnel, and I follow it despite tears rolling down my cheeks, because I don’t even know how long I’ve been lost in this underground labyrinth. Who is the Minotaur in this story? The scary birds, or my captor?
I’m hopeful even when the corridor narrows, because that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but when I realize it starts descending sharply ahead, the sense of helplessness and loss breaks my heart.
I’m so fucking stupid. How could I ever think I’d get lucky and come out of this unscathed?
Sobs tear out of me, creating a dull echo that surely travels throughout this complex system, perhaps even reaching the demon who brought me here?
I’m shaking when the reality of my situation dawns on me with the weight of the whole mountain. This is a nightmare, and only a stranger I can’t trust is capable of waking me up.
“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Please, please, help!”
I spend a while like this, painfully aware that I will die if no one finds me.
I cry with relief when I hear the man I stabbed call out to me from far away.
“Don’t move! I’m coming for you! Where are you?”
“Here! Here!” I yell to guide him with my voice, because it’s not like I have the faintest idea how to describe my location.
By the time I spot the faint illumination of a flashlight in the distance, I fall to my knees, gasping for air. I yell to him again, like a kitten crying for its mother, and almost rub my face with the egg-stained hand.
And then I see him approach, a shadow behind the bright light pointed my way.
There’s dried blood all the way down his pale arm when he reaches out to me. In the light, I see his hand is inked with many stars of the night sky and a symbolic crescent moon.
“Come with me,” he says and at this point, even his voice is so soothing I grab his hand without question.
Now that I think of it, The Moon might have been the final card I drew during the last reading.
Chapter 6
Creep
I’m in such deep shit. The only good thing about this whole fucked-up situation is that I managed to find him. It’s fortunate I know these tunnels like the back of my hand, but they hold steep falls and other dangers that could have led to his demise. I don’t even hold it against him that he attacked me. I deserved it. Hurts like a motherfucker, but at least the screwdriver ended up in my arm not my neck.
I shouldn’t enjoy the distraught way he grips my hand with his shaky fingers, but I’m touched so rarely, I can’t help myself.
Neither of us says anything on the way back, but his chest keeps reverberating with dull sobs that make me itch to provide some kind of comfort. Then again, what do I know about comforting anyone?
When we reach home, I’m relieved, because now he will be able to lie in a comfortable bed, and eat something nice. My captive goes straight for the bathroom and spends an inordinate amount of time washing his hands while I wait, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room until he pokes his pretty face out from behind the green door. I know I should say something, but what? I’ve never been good at that kind of thing.
The boy clears his throat and faces me with his arms crossed on his chest. He’s creating a barrier. Understandable. I’m fully prepared to spend the next few minutes in silence, then leave to lick my wounds somewhere else, when he speaks up.
“Are you… okay?”
I stare back into his blue eyes, and note to bring him a comb tomorrow. “M-me?” It’s probably his way of asking why I’m still here. “I… I’m sure you’re exhausted by what happened. Get some rest,” I say and turn around, ready to flee, but his feet hit the floor, and then he’s once again holding onto my wrist.
“No, please, don’t leave me,” he rasps, his breath shallow as if he’s on the precipice of a panic attack.