Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
He taps on the door, and I jump. “Are you okay in there?”
Quickly, I pull down my leggings and pee. “Be right out!” Fuck, I sound unhinged. Who wouldn’t, I guess.
I have to keep him out of the bedroom. I need to keep him talking, too. The more information I can get, the better my chances will be of getting out of here and finding safety. I take my time washing my hands, breathing as slowly as I can.
I look absolutely haggard in the cracked mirror above the chipped sink. It’s obvious I couldn’t sleep. There’s a haunted, panicked look in my bloodshot eyes. I can do this. I have to do this.
He’s waiting so close to the door when I swing it open, I bet he had his ear pressed to it. Before he has a chance to say anything, I ask, “Is there any food in the kitchen? I can make something to eat. It’s the least I can do for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I didn’t bring you here to take care of me. I’m taking care of you.” He reaches for my hand, and his fingers brush against mine. “I thought maybe we could go back to bed.”
The scream tears through my head. It’s a miracle it doesn’t come out of my mouth. I have to swallow back the bile that rushes up into my throat. “Please. I wouldn’t feel right,” I insist. When he still looks unhappy, I make the most desperate move I can imagine by cocking my head to the side and smirking. “You need your strength, right?”
I might throw up right here and now.
A smile spreads over his mouth, and there’s a knowing twinkle in his eye when he nods. “Good point. There is food in the fridge. I stocked up just for you.”
Lucky me.
Okay, so that rules out him leaving to get food and the chance of me escaping while he’s gone. Time to move on and see if the next idea I came up with while he was sleeping works. “Great. I can get started right away. One thing, though.”
Looking down at my bare feet, I ask, “Do you have a pair of socks? I’m freezing.”
He looks genuinely pained. “Oh no, Allie. How stupid of me. Of course, I have some real nice, thick socks.”
It’s better than nothing. “Thanks,” I murmur. He rushes off to the bedroom, and I cross the creaky plank floor on my way to the ancient refrigerator. I’m surprised it still works, but the light goes on inside when I open the door. There are eggs, ham, bacon, what looks like a chicken, and milk. I pull out the eggs and bacon, moving without thinking, like a robot. I can’t afford to waste time thinking about anything but how to get away.
I’m placing a pan on the wood stove when he joins me, carrying a pair of heavy wool socks in one hand. “Here. Let me put them on you.”
It just gets worse and worse. “I can do it,” I offer, but he holds the socks out of my reach. Like he’s teasing. Like there’s anything fun about this.
“Let me take care of you.” He slowly drops to one knee in front of me. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do something like this.”
I can handle this. I lift my left foot, which he props on his bent leg before letting his hand linger on my ankle. I have never had to fight so hard to stay still. My nerves are jumping, and I can’t stop shaking, but I have to smile down at him when he looks up with a grin. “You have the prettiest feet.”
“Thank you.” Please, let this end.
He looks down, slowly pulling the sock over my toes, and I use his distraction as a chance to look around. There are knives in a block next to the stove. Could I?
He said we’re far away from the road, I remember, staring at the knives, trying to figure out if I can reach one in time. “So there won’t be anyone coming up to bother us?” I ask, forcing the words out around my fear and disgust.
“No, ma’am.” He slides the sock over my ankle, then up over my leg, while his hands slide over my calf. “It’s around a mile.”
A mile. Can I run a mile in these socks, through the dark? I have to. There’s no other way. As soon as he finishes eating, I know what he’s going to want to do, and I won’t. I can’t. I could die out there, lost in the woods, running in circles.
I would rather die out there than live here. At least, I have to try.
I switch feet. Once again, it’s like the sight of my toes hypnotizes him. Holding my breath, I start to reach for the knife block. Please, let me be able to do this. Please. If I miss somehow, he’s going to punish me. I know it, I feel it. I’m not going to get a second chance.