Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Perhaps seeing Jak, who had endured similar trials, enjoying his life should have made Sam hopeful he could have that too. But it only did the opposite. To survive, he’d had to kill, but it hadn’t been his sole purpose. They hadn’t pumped darkness into Jak the way they had with Sam. Black tar still coated his mind, causing images to rise unbidden.
Autumn was sitting on a window seat in the eating area, a direct view to where Sam had just stood, watching Jak and Eddie play. She smiled, patting the seat next to her. Sam sat down, slumping against the pillows and staring morosely out at the gray water. This house was impressive, but he missed their cottage. He missed the way he’d felt there. He missed sitting on the rickety deck gazing at the forest, watching the way the water reflected the sky. Hearing birds chatter and squirrels squabble over nuts. It’d made him laugh. There was a deck here too, but it didn’t feel the same.
Something inside him was different too, and he couldn’t seem to focus on the sky or the birds or whatever small creatures might come along and amuse him. Mostly, he missed being alone with Autumn and feeling almost human. He’d just begun getting used to her touch, not just tolerating it but craving it, and now she didn’t touch him as much because there were others around. And he didn’t know how to do that either, be around people. Interact. Converse. They seemed to enjoy it, but it only brought him anxiety and made him more aware of his otherness.
“Kids are funny,” she said, laying the magazine she’d been reading down. “And that Eddie is a little handful.” She laughed, obvious affection dancing in her dark eyes. He could tell she liked the kid by the way she constantly smiled when he was around.
“I can’t have any kids,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Autumn looked slightly stricken, and he immediately regretted the way he’d said it. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sam.” She looked away, biting at her lip. She was upset, and it made Sam feel upset too. “Um, maybe we should have talked about that…at the cottage…when we…but, I’m on the pill. I’ve missed a few now but that shouldn’t...well, you know.” Her eyes moved over his features, staring at him like she needed rescuing.
Sam wanted to rescue her. It was all he wanted to do. It was a burning flame inside him. Only Sam didn’t know what to rescue her from, except possibly himself, so he simply stared back, helpless.
She lowered her eyes. “They almost took that from me too,” she said. “The ability to have my own children.” Her lips tipped down. “I’ve thought about that. I was so close,” she murmured. “What if…well…” She blinked, bringing her gaze back to his and shaking her head, as if she wanted to take back what she’d said.
What if.
What if they had made her like him? Taken from her in the same way they’d taken from him?
He’d never really cared about not being able to have kids before. Never cared that they’d pumped him full of so many chemicals that they’d killed any chance of that. The thought of Sam with a child was ridiculous. But suddenly, the acknowledgment scratched slightly, like someone was picking at a scab that had almost healed. Not particularly painful, just…bothersome. Why? One more reminder of what he’d never be? Then again, what they’d done to Adam was a reminder as well. He felt stuck, confused, tormented, afraid to stay and afraid to go.
But you should go. You should. Agent Gallagher can keep Autumn safe. You’re a risk to everyone.
Autumn reached out and took his hand, and for some reason, it made a needy wail rise in him. He pushed it down. He’d never heard that sound before, and it made him want to run away. He wanted to grab on to her, claw at her, pull her close, meld himself with her. To fuck her and fuck her until he finally felt relief.
He stood, her hand dropping, her expression startled. “I’m going outside,” he said, the sentence streaming together into one long, mostly unintelligible word. Before she could reply, he turned and walked to the sliding glass doors and then out onto the deck.
He leaned against the railing, the same way he and Jak had done the day before, staring out, mostly unseeing, into the choppy water. It had rained earlier, and the air was still misty, dew sparkling on the midmorning grass. That same wail rose inside, turning into a growl. He was a monster, and though he’d stuffed the most fearsome part of his dark soul down, it wanted out. It wanted free.
He focused on his breath, in, out, lowering his heart rate as he’d been taught to do. Calm. Steady. One operates best when one is in control of one’s functions. Sharp. Deadly. Unaffected.