Total pages in book: 331
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 315585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1578(@200wpm)___ 1262(@250wpm)___ 1052(@300wpm)
I grab her arm, stretching it out, and begin to frantically rub the clean hand towel Haidyn handed me across her skin. It just smears the blood. “Did you cut yourself?” I ask her again because she didn’t answer Haidyn.
“I…I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Fuck. “Eve.” I grip her face, forcing her eyes to meet mine. They look glazed over and empty. “Did you take something?” Maybe she took something before he showed up. There’s a cut on the side of her face, but it wouldn’t bleed this much.
She doesn’t answer.
“Check her drawers for pill bottles,” I bark at Haidyn, and he starts opening and slamming them shut. She doesn’t do drugs, but maybe… “He could have given her something. Eve?”
“Place is clear. Blood smeared on the back door tells me he ran.” Saint comes rushing in, interrupting me. “Maybe he heard us pull up.”
She begins to tremble. “I’m sorry.”
There’s so much blood. I can’t find the source. If someone was bleeding this much, there would be a body. “Eve,” I snap, getting impatient. My concern grows by the second; I’m terrified she’s going to bleed out right here in front of me. “Talk to me. What happened, angel? Please,” I beg, desperate for an answer. “What did you do?” She’s looking pale.
“I came,” she whispers, her eyes pinned on my shirt, unable to meet mine. “He told me…that I came.”
“Maybe she’s in shock,” Saint offers.
I grip her face with my blood-covered hand, forcing her head back against the wall once more. “Listen to me. You didn’t have a choice, Eve.” The video that Bill and Adam showed us proves that no one could stand a chance at Dollhouse. “He was here in your house. I need to know…did Evan hurt you or did you hurt yourself?” I can’t help her if I don’t know how.
“I tried to…” She’s gasping, trying to breathe. “I told him to shoot me… If he got in the bathroom, I was going to kill myself,” she whispers. “I won’t let him touch me. Not again.”
My chest tightens at her confession.
“I don’t see anything,” Haidyn says, slamming the last drawer shut before walking into the shower. “Put her in here. Wash off the blood and see where it’s coming from.”
I pick her up, step into the shower, and sit down with her on the cold tile. Haidyn takes the sprayer and begins to wet her down from her hair to her face and her chest while she coughs and chokes on the running water. The blood gathers around the drain while I frantically search her, secretly hoping that it’s all his.
She’s shaking and her breathing becomes labored as I look for anything to tell me what the fuck is going on.
“I didn’t cut myself. I promise.” She sniffs.
“What did you do, Eve?” I ask, holding out her arms for Haidyn to wash off. “Huh? Where is the blood coming from?”
She doesn’t answer.
The water runs over her legs. She’s got bruises on her thighs from where she wore the spikes for me the other night. I knew she got off from pain. Now I’m sick that I allowed myself to do this to her. Embarrassed that Haidyn is going to ask me where they came from and I’m going to have to explain what I did to his sister.
Blood instantly pours from her inner thigh as soon as it washes away. “Fuck. She cut her leg.” Haidyn hands Saint the sprayer so he can remove his belt. He drops to his knees next to me and I hold her shaking leg out while he wraps his belt around her upper thigh to stop the bleeding.
She crosses her arms around herself and starts rocking back and forth.
“I begged… I came…”
I grab her wet face, forcing her attention back on mine while Saint calls Devin to give him a heads-up that we’re coming. “Listen to me. You didn’t have a choice, Eve,” I remind her. The poor thing isn’t listening. Is she in shock?
She begins to gag.
“Eve.” I sit up and grab her wet hair off her shoulders and chest. She’s about to get sick.
EVERETT
Nineteen years old
I sit cross-legged in the center of the concrete room. Waiting. Always waiting and alone.
I’m so lonely.
The sound of the door creaks open and a figure enters. “Hey, dolly.”
He’s come to visit me. I almost smile.
Kneeling down in front of me, he pushes my hair back from my face. “They said you wanted to see me.” He runs his thumb over my cracked lips, and I part them, but he pulls them away and I whimper. I wanted to taste them so badly. I’m starving.
His laughter fills my room.
“She’s making good progress,” a woman’s voice says. She comes and goes, only visiting to see how I’m doing.
“Told you.” He stands.
“Keep it up,” she states and walks out.