Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Sure, everything else held merit. It was right there in all the footage he collected, and maybe I am losing my mind. Maybe I’ve been under too much stress and have been slipping into psychotic episodes and having wild hallucinations. But despite that, I feel it in the pit of my stomach. Parts of this are real. I just don’t know what. What I do know is that if someone doesn’t release me from these stupid restraints soon, it’s not my safety they will need to worry about.
Knight has been gone for an hour, maybe two. It’s hard to tell. I don’t have my phone or even a clock in this bland room. It’s just me, alone with my twisted mind, in a cold room trying to sleep off the sedative that Knight allowed them to hit me with.
I let out a heavy sigh. I have never been so bored in my life. This is literally ridiculous. I even consider calling out to Knight just to have him come in and tell me all over again how he thinks I’m fucked up in the head. I might even let him look at me with that pitying stare again. Gosh, wouldn’t that be a blast to experience all over again?
Surely the doctor is going to come in soon to give me some big spiel about what he thinks is wrong with me. Naturally, he’d have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but at least I’d be able to ask about removing the restraints. I mean, shit. What if I need to pee? Am I just supposed to wait for someone to show up and hope they can help. It’s not as though I can reach the call button with my hands buckled down by my thighs. Whoever came up with this concept really didn’t think it through.
I start counting the ceiling tiles just for something to help pass the time when movement in my peripheral catches my attention. I glance across the room, and my eyes widen, fear capturing me in a chokehold as my stalker hovers by the window, leaning against the wall as though he has every right to be here.
I suck in a gasp, my hands shaking at my sides. How did he even get in here? He would have had to either scale the building and climb through the window that I’m pretty sure doesn’t actually open, especially in the psych ward, or he would have had to walk straight past Knight, who is hovering out in the hallway. But more than that, how the hell did I not realize he was here? I’ve been staring at the ceiling for at least ten minutes after my last quick power nap. Surely I would have noticed him the moment I woke up.
Fear dances through my veins like poison, and all I can do is stare back at him as my heart races. “What are you doing here, kitten?” he growls, that deep tone penetrating right through my chest, leaving me gasping.
I shake my head, knowing without a doubt that Knight is wrong. Despite all of the evidence, how could he possibly deny this? He’s standing right here in front of me.
I spare a glance toward the small window in the door, seeing Knight standing in the hallway speaking with the doctor, and my eyes widen. What the fuck is going on? My stalker is right here. Why aren’t they rushing in to do anything about it? Why is Knight just allowing this to happen?
Looking back at the masked man, I tell him exactly what he wants to know. “They think I’m crazy. They think I’ve made you up. That you’re just a figment of my imagination. Not real.”
He watches me for a moment, the silence in the hospital room bringing on a thick tension that sends shivers sailing across my skin, and I can’t help but feel that there’s something different about this. He’s always terrifying, always able to make me want to run, yet some part of me feels safe enough to let my guard down. But today, it feels different. That guard’s not coming down, and I realize we’ve finally reached the end of his wicked game.
He lets out a sigh and reaches behind him, unsheathing a large blade, his haunting stare not moving from mine for even a second. He holds the blade in front of him, his pointer finger on his other hand pressed against the blade’s sharp tip as he carelessly spins it around.
“I’m going to have to kill you now,” he tells me, a sadness peeking through his haunting stare. “They know too much.”
“No,” I breathe, shaking my head and watching as he pushes away from the wall, the blade now firmly held in his skilled hand. “No.”
With every step he takes, the panic rises in my chest, knowing this time will be different. There’s no indulging him with my body, no rules left to break, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. This is it. It’s game over. All this time, I assumed my body was the prize, that his goal was to have me. But I’m only now realizing how wrong I am. My body was never the prize. It’s simply a placeholder for what he truly wanted all along. My life.