Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Blessed Virgin, please protect us!
She clutched the wooden railing tighter and tried to have confidence.
You’ve got this. You have to have this. It’s only everything riding on your shoulders. No pressure.
The image of the headless bodies dangling in the freezer came rushing back without warning. She flinched as though slapped, squeezing her eyes shut for half a second—but the memory still flashed behind her eyelids in grotesque, high definition. The green-scaled skin…the congealed brown blood…the ragged stumps where their heads should have been.
Don’t think about it. Don’t picture it again. Just breathe…just breathe.
The plan was simple, but so much could still go wrong. Still, it was the only chance they had.
Noelle swallowed hard as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
The basement play room was cold and oppressive and somehow worse than it had been the night before—maybe because now she knew what went on down here. The air smelled of iron and rot and stale sweat—foul, musky, and metallic. In one corner, the glowing red eye of the camera drone blinked to life, zipping closer with a faint buzz as it prepared to record.
Smile, piggy-wigs—smile for the camera!
Noelle forced her face to relax. She pushed the terror deep down beneath a shiny layer of fake enthusiasm and fluttered her lashes as she turned to Thune.
“Can we have some more of that yummy pink drink?” she asked brightly, plastering on a smile that made her cheeks ache. “It made me feel all tingly inside—I really want some more.”
The enormous Trollox blinked in surprise—or at least, his middle head did. The one on the left head drooled and stared vacantly, while the right head continued to snore, lips smacking wetly as it dreamed.
“So you like that tingling feeling, do you, eh, little piggy-wig?” the middle head asked, narrowing its yellow eyes. “Very well then. We wouldn’t mind a glass of wine as well. Let’s go get a little drinky-poo before we start our playtime.”
“Goody!” Noelle gushed, giving a little clap and bouncing on her toes to make her breasts jiggle. Acting like this made her want to puke, but like most men, the Trollox suspected nothing when a woman flirted with him.
Oh God, I’m going to puke, she thought. But she twirled on her heel and skipped to the battered drink cooler like a schoolgirl at a slumber party.
The cooler hissed when Thune cracked it open, releasing a waft of fruity, chemical-laced air. The pink drinks shimmered inside, neatly stacked in rows like glowing poison. The sight of them made Noelle’s stomach clench.
Here we go. Just smile. Pretend you love it. You can do this—you have to do this.
Thune passed her a bottle with a flourish. She accepted it with both hands and unscrewed the cap, trying not to let her fingers tremble. The scent hit her first—thick, sugary, and medicinal. The same as before… only stronger. And was the liquid in the bottle a darker pink this time?
Her throat tightened instinctively but she had no choice—she brought the bottle to her lips.
The drink slid thickly over her tongue, syrupy and slightly fizzy. It tasted like rotten wintergreen mixed with cough syrup and bubblegum. Beneath that was something darker—something bitter and metallic. The taste made Noelle gag and she saw that Burn and Bright were choking down their own bottles as well.
She swallowed with effort and forced a delighted sigh.
“Mmm,” she moaned, licking her lips. “So good. I love the way it tingles.”
“Glad to hear it,” Thune chuckled, pouring himself a massive tumbler of dark red wine from a dusty glass jug. “We made sure it’s extra strong tonight—just to be sure the three of you would do as we said.”
Noelle’s heart dropped.
Extra strong?
“You did what?” Burn growled behind her.
Before she could turn around, there was a loud crash—the sound of glass exploding against stone. She flinched and whirled just in time to see the remnants of Burn’s bottle shatter against the wall.
The Trollox’s middle and left heads snapped around.
“What did you do that for, you bad piggy-wig?” the middle one snarled.
The right head remained slack-jawed, drooling vacantly and staring straight at her.
Noelle’s pulse leapt.
This is it. This is your window. But what if the third head warns him? What if it sees what I’m doing?
She couldn’t think about that. That head was an idiot—it didn’t know what was going on. At least, she hoped it didn’t.
As the two alert heads scolded Burn, she slipped a hand into the deep side pocket of her dress. She hated wearing it—it was the same one she’d torn off earlier that day after finding out the lace was stained with blood. But it was the only garment in her size that had pockets, so she’d had no choice.
The two sleeping pills were still there—massive, chalky pink tablets nestled in the palm of her hand. Noelle fumbled them out with shaking fingers and—in one smooth motion—dropped them into the wine while the Trollox’s attention was elsewhere.