Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Come on,” Aleksander urges. “It’s not safe.”
He pulls me around to where the caravans are lined up, and most of them are closed, which means the girls have been sent back to them. Outside the tent where the commotion is happening, there isn’t a soul to be seen. I unlock my caravan, hands trembling, and step inside. Aleksander follows me, closing and locking the door, before moving the curtain from one of the small windows and staring out.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I ask, rubbing my hands together.
“Marek is fine, he’s the one causing all the screaming, not the one makin’ it.”
Oh, God!
I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting, wondering, unable to think about anything but what’s going on in that tent.
“I should go over there,” I say, pushing to my feet. “Someone might be hurt.”
“No,” Aleksander takes my arm, his tone firm. “I don’t mean to sound awful, Ellie, but no. Trust me when I say you’ll see things you will never be able to erase from your mind. Just let it be.”
Stomach sick, I sit back down.
What kind of things?
Does he mean I’ll see the real Marek?
The true monster?
14
Pounding on my caravan door jerks me from my position on the bed, where I have been staring at nothing for hours. My conversation with Aleksander has been sparse, but he hasn’t left me alone, and I’m grateful to him for that. He moves before I do, walking to the door and swinging it open. I can see who it is clearly, and when I take him in, I gasp.
Marek stands, covered in blood.
His fists are balled by his sides, bloodied and bruised, and I can’t tell if the blood on his face or slick in his hair is from him or someone else. He looks utterly terrifying as he stares up at me, his blue eyes stark amongst the coppery blood.
“Jesus Christ,” Aleksander growls. “What the hell have you done?”
“Leave,” Marek orders, not even giving Aleksander a glance as his eyes remain locked on mine.
“Seriousl...”
“Leave,” Marek thunders, and the tone of his voice has Aleksander turning to me, his face stoic.
“I’ll come and see you tomorrow – if you need me, at all, you call.”
“Thanks for staying with me,” I whisper, as he walks out of the caravan, shoving past Marek as he goes.
When he disappears into the night, I look back to the man standing on the ground, still looking up at me.
“What are you doing here, Marek?”
He holds my gaze, but I’m confused as to what it is he’s actually here for. Shaking my head as he takes a step up, then another, I move backwards, the smell of blood filling my caravan.
“I killed a man, tonight,” he growls, low. “Because he came in and tried to kill everyone in this camp in an attempt to get away with stealing from me.”
My body trembles as I press my back to the caravan wall. Marek keeps coming in until he’s in front of me, not touching me but close enough that I can see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes.
“Why are you telling me this?” I whisper.
“Did you hear him scream, Ellie Mae?”
What sort of sick, twisted game is he trying to play?
“Marek,” I croak, shaking my head. “Stop.”
“Are you afraid of me?”
His voice has a slight shake to it, and something inside my chest lurches. I want to throw my arms around him, as delusional as that sounds. I want to, but I won’t. I made a promise to myself, and I have to keep that promise, even though everything inside me is fighting against it.
“No,” I rasp, and it’s the damned truth.
“Why?”
“Because I’m just not. Why are you here?”
He studies my face, his eyes dragging over my lips. I can smell the strong scent of blood, and it makes my stomach turn a little. Mostly because I know it isn’t his blood. He’s staring at me like he wants to kiss me.
“You want me to kiss you, even though I’m coated in somebody else’s blood,” he growls, placing a hand on the wall beside my head and leaning down.
I hold my breath, shaking my head even though my heart is racing so hard I can’t focus.
“You’re wondering what it would feel like, to have my mouth on yours,” he taunts, his lips so close I can taste the coppery scent of blood.
I don’t turn away.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“You’re willing to give everything to me, even though you try so hard to act like you feel nothing...”
“I’m not the one acting,” I whisper. “You’re the only coward here, Marek.”
He pushes away from the wall and turns, as always, walking towards the exit of the caravan.
The moment I challenge him, the moment things get hard, he runs.
He can’t face it, the way he feels, and he leaves the very second things get tense.