Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
There was never a bed before. Was there? I don’t remember one.
No, that’s something I would remember. I’m sure of it. I lay on the ground next to him with a tattered blanket. Instinctively I look for the blanket, as if it’ll be crumpled in a corner. The far right corner, the one farthest from the door. The one where we used to huddle together.
I swallow thickly, brushing my eyes with the back of my hand.
This room is made to look the same, but it’s not.
That house was burnt down. I remember the smell. The ashes. I remember the fear that he was in there when it happened. That the boy had died, and was burned alive. I wanted to die myself. I screamed, and the officer held me close until my mother came to me.
She was crying, too. Even as she held me firmly against her chest, my tears soaked her shirt and hers fell into my hair.
The knowledge that there was no one inside didn’t take the pain away. A pain that’s never left me, a pain that’s enough to render me useless in this moment.
My eyes feel heavy as I turn to the door again. It doesn’t look like the old door. It was steel and gray. It was a door that couldn’t be broken down. This one is painted white with a simple handle. No locks.
“No locks,” I whisper and lick my dry lips.
I reach a hand out and then look up toward the ceiling. The far right is where the camera was all those years ago. I make a full circle, the sound of my feet shuffling across the floor accompanies me as I search for cameras in the room. But there are none.
Is he not watching? I find it hard to believe. I don’t understand. A throbbing pulse makes me wince and I close my eyes until it goes away, holding both of my hands to the sides of my head.
What are you doing, Jay?
Why this? I open my eyes, remembering John. Maybe he convinced him? It hurts to think that way. It fucking shreds me, but it fuels me to move. I need to get out. I’m not safe here, and neither is he.
I grip the doorknob, expecting it to be locked, but it’s not. My heart stutters and I test it again.
It’s too easy. I jiggle the knob again, and it turns easily. The soft click fills the air as I turn it and pull the door open slowly.
I can’t breathe. My heartbeat is too fucking loud.
I stand in the open doorway, too afraid to peek out, but somehow I force myself.
My brow knits as I rest my hand against the doorjamb and bite down on my lip, looking down a hall to what appears to be a basement. There’s a door at the very end, faint morning light spilling in and a set of stairs leading up to the outdoors.
I cautiously take one step, my bare foot sliding across the cement.
Did he really just forget to lock the door? Or is this a test?
I don’t take a moment to think. I don’t try to understand.
He’s not well, and he needs help, desperately. I can get him help. The thought pushes me to move faster, one step at a time as I look over my shoulder to a set of stairs that leads to the first floor of this house. I can’t hear a damn thing other than the blood pounding in my ears and the slamming of my heart.
My palms turn sweaty as I keep walking.
I can leave and get help. I’ll come back for him.
My body buckles at the thought, and I lean against the door to my potential freedom. The doorknob is cold in my hand.
I was going to come back, I almost whisper. I tried. I tried to go back, but the house was gone. I close my eyes, my body trembling and the memories flooding my mind.
His eyes are the same. God, his eyes are everything. The only thing I can see. The boy and the man looking at me are the same.
He needs help. I need to help him.
A low growl makes my body tense. It continues, long and low and threatening, and coming from my right.
I can’t breathe remembering the dogs. No. No. I’m frantic as I rip the door open, pulling with everything I have and luckily, it too swings open and doesn’t hold me back.
It bangs hard against the wall, the harsh noise joining with the loud bark of the dog. I can’t help but look back, and staring straight at me are the dark eyes of a large black dog. His hackles are raised. He’s snarling and his white teeth are exposed, drool dripping from his jowls as he snaps them shut and barks again repeating his vicious warning.