Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
The closet door was half-open, the floor covered in a pile of dirty clothes.
No man.
Living or dead.
But the blood…
“The fuck you want from me?” a voice said from the hallway.
Close. Way too close.
Like it was coming in here.
Where I definitely didn’t belong.
I mean, if it was the tenant, I could just… say I saw the door opened, that I was worried, that I wanted to make sure he was alright.
But then I heard something else that made my blood run cold.
A second voice.
Then a third.
My mind flashed back to the encounter by the dumpster. Four men. And the ones who’d exited the building after the altercation the other night. Four.
This wasn’t the tenant.
These were the men responsible for the blood on the floor in the other room.
Panic surged, making my heartbeat hammer, my blood rush through my veins, and my stomach roil.
I glanced to the closet as I heard noises in the other room.
Cabinet doors slamming, drawers being overturned.
They were looking for something.
And it was only a matter of time before they came this way.
I glanced at the closet, the most logical place to hide. But also the most likely place they were going to look for something next.
That just left the bed.
This guy’s one was much closer to the ground than mine was. Too low, really, for hiding.
But what choice did I have?
There was a crash from the other room, making me press my lips together to keep any sounds from escaping as I slowly lowered myself onto the floor, flattening onto my belly, then starting to wiggle my way under the bed.
The bars scraped across my back, snagging the material of my skirt, making me need to reach back to yank it free to keep moving. I slid up as close to the top of the bed against the wall as possible so that if someone reached under the bed to feel around, their hands were less likely to come in contact with me.
My whole body was shaking as I heard footsteps make their way into the bathroom, emptying out the cabinet under the sink.
They were coming here next.
And what would happen if they found me?
Would I be another bloodstain on the floor? Another body carried right out the front door?
How long would it be before someone missed me? Before they would even think to look for foul play?
Why hadn’t I told anyone about my suspicions? Lily, at least? So someone would suspect someone coming for me if I went missing?
It was too late for that now, though, as I heard another set of footsteps making their way into the bedroom.
I pulled my hand up, pressing it hard over my mouth to keep any sounds muffled as I focused on breathing slow and deep so it couldn’t be heard.
Sweat was trickling down my neck and spine, wetting through my shirt in moments as the drawers of the dresser were overturned, the contents scattering all across the floor, a pair of boxers sliding halfway under the bed with me.
“Nothing,” the man said as another set of footsteps moved into the room.
“Check the closet,” said the other as he moved over toward the bed, whipping off the sheet and tossing the pillow to the ground.
There was a moment of nothing, then a loud ripping sound.
It took me a second to place it. But when I did, the anxiety tripped into overdrive as I worried he might split the mattress down to the bottom. Which would expose my hiding spot through the slats of the bed’s platform.
The cutting stopped, though, and the bed jiggled as he, I assumed, dug around into the foam mattress.
Looking for… I don’t know what.
There was a thunk across the room. Maybe a shoe hitting the wall from the man rummaging through the closet.
“Anything?” the man directly above me asked.
“Just stinkin’ laundry,” the other guy answered.
“Fuck,” the other one snapped as he suddenly lowered down in on the side of the bed, his arm reaching around under.
I wanted to curl smaller, but I was terrified of being heard or of making the bed move.
So I just stayed as still as possible, not even daring to breathe as I seriously worried I was going to pee myself out of fear.
The man’s hand grabbed the boxers, the only thing under the bed save for dust and balls of hair.
He pulled it out and with a disgusted grunt, tossed it back to the ground.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he said.
“But T said—“
“Fucking T wants to look, he can come do it himself,” he snarled before stomping out of the room and down the hall.
With a sigh, the other guy seemed to follow behind.
Footsteps moved through the living room, then there was the click of the door.
I didn’t move.
I barely breathed.
My whole body was shaking violently, hard enough to make the bed rattle with me.