Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“I gave you that and you chose wrong.” His voice darkens to a frightening edge.
“What? When?”
He doesn’t answer, as usual, and I’m left with the worst case of bemusement.
Ever since I became acquainted with Jeremy, he’s never given me a choice. Not even once.
So how the hell can he say I chose wrong?
He stands up with the lethargy of a big black cat and I push back against the banquette.
There’s been a shift in the air. I’m not sure why, but it’s there, and it’s rippling with suffocating tension.
“Are you done eating?”
“Why?” My voice is barely a murmur, despite how much of a pep talk I internally give myself.
“Didn’t you ask what we’ll do after we eat? The answer is a game.”
“What type of game?”
“My favorite. Russian roulette.”
20
CECILY
“Did you just say Russian roulette?”
“If you know the game, it doesn’t need any introduction.” A cruel smirk lifts the corner of Jeremy’s lips as he marches to a side cupboard and retrieves a small metal suitcase.
Like the ones you see in action films.
He slides it on the table between us and opens it, pulling out a revolver.
Not a toy gun, not a prop, but a real one.
His long fingers slide around the metal with expert ease as he rolls the rotating cylinder open and dumps all the bullets on the table.
They scatter and bounce in a haunting sound that strikes straight through to my bones.
For a moment, I wish this was one of those nightmares where my subconscious has a field day with bringing all my fears and weaknesses to the surface.
I wish the scene in front of me was nothing more than a cruel joke.
But the more I blink, the realer it gets.
Jeremy actually has a gun and he said he’s going to play a game with it.
Russian roulette.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I whisper, my heart thundering so hard in my chest, I’m surprised I don’t faint.
He doesn’t spare me a glance, continuing his task, erasing me from his immediate surroundings.
“Jeremy!” My voice quakes and chokes.
Finally, he slides his intense gaze to me, and it’s…dead.
Gone is the person who made me food and even smiled while talking earlier. A demon has taken his place and transformed him into a soulless monster, who’s hungry for flesh.
My flesh.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I try and fail to control the quivering in my voice.
“I told you. Russian roulette.” He pushes a bullet into one of the gruesome holes of the rotating cylinder and slams it shut, then rolls it with a blurry speed. “But let’s make it truth time. We’ll ask two questions each and when the other answers, he has to shoot. It might be the last thing we say, so lying is prohibited. There are five empty shots and we’ll play four rounds. You go first.”
I shake my head frantically and jump up. I’m not staying here or taking part in this madness.
His earlier threat about what he’ll do if I run away pales in comparison to actually shooting ourselves.
I’m one step away when a strong arm wraps around my wrist and I’m tugged back with a force that knocks the breath out of my lungs.
He forces me down onto something hard. His lap. To keep me in place, he wraps an arm around my middle, forbidding me from moving an inch.
A deep sense of terror grips hold of me and I push at his arm, scratching, clawing, hitting.
I pour all my energy in the struggle, but I might as well be remaining still. Not only does he not budge, but his grip has tightened until I can barely breathe.
“Are you done?” His hot breath draws shivers against the skin of my ear.
I cast a glance at him behind me, at his chiseled face and handsome features. At the beautiful creature who might as well be cut from the darkness.
“Don’t do this, please,” I say more calmly, holding on to my rationality by a thread. “I…don’t want to die.”
“Neither do I.”
“How is this different from committing suicide?”
“It’s not about dying. It’s about the truth.” He hands me the gun. “You have more chances of survival if you go first. I’ll ask the question.”
“I’ll answer any questions you have. Just not like this.”
“Why do you periodically go into a catatonic state?”
A jolt zips through me and I stare at him, dumbfounded. How does he know that when I’ve managed to hide it so well?
Even the closest people to me think I’m prone to zone out, but they wouldn’t name it as specifically as he does.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice is barely above a murmur. Low and haunted.
Jeremy snatches my hand that’s balling into a fist and splays it out on the gun. I try to resist, to fight, but I’m no match for his strength.
His larger palm engulfs mine and he forces my finger to press on the trigger. He then lifts it to my temple with chilling calm until the cold muzzle is glued to my skin.