Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Like meditating, I was never very good at it. My thoughts always kept wandering, which frustrated me and pulled me out of practice. I don't have to be perfect now. I only need to get my blood pumping more slowly so I can manage the pain.
I take a deep breath on the count of four, then hold it for another four count. While I do, I imagine the beauty surrounding the hotel where Christian and I went into hiding. The lights dance on the water. Sailboats float in the harbor, gently bobbing. Villas dot the hillside, lights burning bright inside, Like sparks of life in the darkness. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I imagine it down to the last detail, even the feel of the chair by the window. Not the chair I'm in now, but a plush, silk-covered armchair. That's what I'm sitting in. That's where I am. And there's not a worry or care in the world. Breathe in... breathe out. I can almost smell the herbal tea sitting beside me.
By the time I let go of the image, the stabbing pain has weakened to a dull throb. When I tentatively lift my head, the world swims a little, but the pain doesn't increase. I'm in control of that.
Now, where am I? It looks like a warehouse or a factory. There are holes in the roof, letting moonlight trickle in. That's the only light I can see by. I’m pretty sure I can make out the outline of heavy machinery several yards in front of me, but I can't tell what it is.
I do know the floor is dusty. It tickles my nose, and I have to fight back the urge to sneeze. That's the last thing I need to do. I just know I'd have to start the whole meditation thing over again because it would kick off the pain in my head. And I wouldn't be able to wipe my nose, either.
I breathe softly, straining my ears for any sounds. What I think might be the skittering of rodents makes me shudder. I hope they leave me alone, wherever they are. Whatever they are.
That's all I hear, though. No footsteps, no voices. No heavy breathing. I think I'm alone. He left me here alone. I have no doubt he'll come back at some point, though. Or maybe he won't. Maybe the idea is to leave me here so I'll starve to death while Christian...
While Christian what? He'll look for me, no doubt. He might even already be looking as I sit here trying to put my thoughts together. He has to know by now that I'm missing. How long will it take him to track me down? How will he even know where to start? Did he know his twin was in attendance? Does he know his twin is even crazier than he is?
“Help.” My mouth is so dry, my throat hoarse. “Help!” I shout anyway, even over the rising pain in my head. There must be somebody around here. Someone close by, someone who would hear my cries echoing. I try to move my feet, but all that gets me is chafed skin. The same goes with my wrists, but I have to try. I wonder if I could stand—while my feet are bound together, they aren't tied to the chair. There's no rope around my waist, either. If I move fast enough, I might be able to stand without having to use my arms.
Before I have the chance to try, unfortunately, a cold laugh cuts through the air. “That's right,” someone encourages. “You keep trying. Maybe somebody will come and save you.”
He's been here all along, watching. Yes, he and Christian are definitely related. It's exactly something he would do.
He steps beneath a pool of moonlight, and again, I’m taken aback at how much he looks like Christian. But even in his worst moments, Christian never looked at me the way this man does. With such cold, bitter hatred. I can't help but tremble under his gaze as he approaches.
“My apologies.”
My God, he sounds just like him, too. It's surreal.
“It seems I ruined your wedding day. How thoughtless of me.” He scrunches up his face a little before grimacing. “Then again, let's not pretend you were very happy. Unless I mistook the tears I witnessed in the bathroom. You didn't seem particularly happy, but then I don't have much experience with happiness. I'm not certain I would recognize it if I saw it.” He speaks with a thick Italian accent, telling me he's probably lived here all his life. Not like Christian, who spent so much time in the States.
“You have nothing to say to me? Too bad.” He shakes his head in what I know is mock sadness. “I wanted so much for us to get to know each other. After all, you're a part of the family now. My sister.” How does he manage to make it sound so ugly? My skin crawls, even more so as he advances on me. I tense all over, prepared for him to hurt me. Why he would want to, I don't know, but then I don't understand anything about this family.