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)
Allie
Iwish she had told me why it was so important to see me right away. There’s nothing worse than wondering and worrying while I race home.
I drum my fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song playing from my phone to the car’s speakers. It’s from my pick-me-up playlist, the one that usually makes me feel kick-ass and unstoppable. I don’t think I’ve ever felt less unstoppable in my whole life. How long will it be before I stop feeling so scared and jittery all the time? I’m always waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I know I can’t live like this forever, but that’s all I see in front of me. An eternity of being scared.
It can’t be anything all that terrible, right? She would’ve sounded worse than she was. She was worried, but she wasn’t, like, horrified or furious or anything like that. The way she would be if Sheriff Tanner came around and said, “Hey, by the way, we’re pretty sure your daughter murdered someone.”
Right?
The snow is falling a little harder now. I turn up the speed on my windshield wipers to clear away the flakes that are now dusting the trees on either side of the road. It’s beautiful, magical. At least, that’s how I would usually see it. For now, all I see is cold. Somewhere, is Jackson’s body getting covered with all this snow? What will happen once the thaw comes? I really don't need to imagine anything about him right now.
Now, it’s all I think about. I want to stop thinking. How do I make that happen?
I don’t notice the car coming up behind me until the headlights damn near blind me in the rearview mirror. “Fuck!” I hold up my hand to shield the glare. These damn LED lights. “Get off my ass!” I bark. Not like they can hear me, but it makes me feel better to yell at them.
The road is not in bad shape or anything, but still. Maybe give me a chance to brake without getting rear-ended. When I step on the gas a little harder to put some distance between us, the driver does the same.
“Are you fucking serious?” I slam my palm against the horn, then raise my hand and flip them off.
I’m wondering who the hell this asshole is when my car is tapped from behind.
“Shit!” I spin the wheel against the direction I’m skidding, close to the shoulder of the road, with the trees only a few feet farther back. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I’m breathing fast and heavy, but somehow, I manage to steer back on the road.
And the car behind me picks up speed. The sound of its engine roaring makes my stomach drop and my heart pound against my ribs. “What are you doing?” I shout, lowering my foot on the gas.
All I see are those headlights in my mirrors. In my head, I search wildly for a way out of this. Is there a road I can turn down? I don’t want this guy trapping me on a narrow road, though. I just want to get home. I’m almost there, just a few more minutes.
I don’t know if I have a few more minutes. It takes another light tap against the back driver’s-side corner to make me almost lose control. This time, I end up spinning off the road, screaming while snow flies up on either side of the car.
“Please, God!” Is he even listening? Maybe this is what I deserve after what I did. Maybe God won’t bother with me anymore.
My hands grip the wheel tight. I lean in, fighting for control. Somehow, I end up back on the road, and this time, I floor the gas. “Come on, come on,” I whisper, watching the headlights get smaller in my mirror. He’s backing off. A broken sob fills the car, but I can’t stop. I keep going—though I only slow down once I’m sure he’s gone and I’m safe.
There’s a joke. Safe? Is there any such thing?
I almost sob with relief when I pull through the gate, then stop myself before my emotions can take over. I need to get it together for Mom. I can’t let her see what happened. I’m not even sure what happened as it is. Why would someone do that? My mind immediately flashes to Jackson. He’d do something like that, but he’s dead, he can’t.
Before I go into the house, I creep around to the back of the car to check for any damage. There are scratches in the paint, but nothing major. I figured I would have at least left a taillight lying on the road, but no. Maybe if they had hit me that hard, I wouldn’t have made it out. I guess I got lucky again.