Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“It will. Or I’ll take my own life before you can.”
Jasper’s eyes go wide at my words. With the knife in my hand, I lift it to my own neck and begin applying pressure, I feel the sting straight away as I break the skin.
“Isadora…”
“You want me dead. You need me dead. What if I make it easier on you and do it myself?” I ask, wanting to know his value for me. A shiver comes over me as I inhale a shallow breath and take another.
“Remove it from your neck. Now,” he seethes.
“I would have killed you, given the chance,” I tell him.
He smirks. “You’ve had plenty of chances, Isadora. Just admit you’re feeling what I am and drop the damn knife.” He doesn’t understand what I’m feeling, I hardly understand my mixed emotions when it comes to him.
A loud noise sounds behind me, and in that moment I take my chance, as everyone is focused on the disturbance. Clutching the towel with one hand and the knife in the other, I run down the stairs two at a time. I notice Carter before he sees me, and as he does, he stands at the same time my hand touches the door handle which leads outside.
“Don’t you hurt her,” I hear someone yell, but it doesn’t slow me as my bare feet hit the asphalt and I take off running. I see a car, the door’s open and I run to it, sliding in and thanking God when I see the keys are in the ignition.
“What the fuck?”
Starting the engine, I drive, and that’s when I notice Heather who’s screeching next to me. I missed the fact she’s there and fucking sitting right next to me.
“Shut the fuck up,” I yell as I take the exit onto the main road. I check in my rearview mirror to make sure I’m not being followed, and after a few checks my heart rate starts to slow and I can finally breathe again.
“They’re going to kill you so bad for this,” she fumes next to me.
How the fuck did I not see Heather for what she was? I pride myself on my impressions of people, and I totally got this one wrong. What a cunt.
“Possibly,” I say pulling over. “Now you can get the fuck out.”
Heather’s eyes go wide. “Fucking hell. It’s raining, and cold,” she says as if I care.
I look her up and down I order, “Give me your clothes.”
Heather shakes her head. “That’s not going to happen.”
The knife which I placed between my legs is lifted and I push it to her neck. “Honestly? You don’t want to fuck with me, bitch. Least of all today, Heather. If that’s even your real name. Now give me your fucking clothes before I slit your pretty little throat.”
“I just bought this skirt,” she whines as she lifts her ass and slides it off. “Benny’s car had a tracker, did you know that?”
I didn’t.
I had no idea, but I don’t tell her that. Though, my uncle had his suspicions.
At least now I know how they found me.
“The shirt, too.” She hands me the skirt then pulls the shirt off to reveal a shiny silver bra underneath. “Now… Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Her eyes go wide. “What? No. No way. I’ll freeze.”
I grab the towel which is covering my body and pull hard then hand it to her. “Get out before I cut your damn throat, Heather.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. I lift the knife touching it to her skin, she jumps, her hand quickly clutching at the towel as she gets out.
The minute she is out, I drive off and only quickly pull over briefly to dress so I’m not naked.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I bang on the steering wheel.
I don’t know where to go or what to do.
I have to get my uncle out of that place, but to do that I need to have something in return. Getting out, I leave the keys in the ignition and start walking. I can’t stay here any longer because if this car has a tracking device on it I’m fucked, and I’ll have no chance of getting my uncle back alive. Seeing Heather’s phone I make my first call.
“Benny,” he answers on the first ring.
“Girl, they have been looking for you,” is all he says. I like Benny, and the last thing I want to do is bring him into this bullshit, but I don’t know where else to go. I grew up in this area, but I isolated myself so I had no friends, and it was just my uncle and me. He said it was best to keep it that way.
“I need somewhere to go.”
“Sharon’s,” he answers straight off the bat.
“No way. We don’t get along.”
“Exactly,” he states then hangs up. Not long after a text comes through with an address.