Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
The sincerity and earnestness in his voice tugged at me, despite the circumstances.
I untangled myself from him, cognizant that Lucian was around somewhere.
“How do we get out?”
“This way.” He took hold of my hand and led me from the room.
“Why were you still on campus so late?” I asked as we made our way to a rear hall on the first floor.
“Uh . . . I forgot something.”
That didn’t sound very convincing, but I wasn’t going to push the issue. “What about Mara? Have you seen her since we got separated?”
“I don't think she's in the building anymore,” he muttered.
Something in his tone set off an alarm in my mind.
It wouldn’t be a stretch to say we might have varying definitions of the word alive. We sidestepped the janitor's closet where an ominous amount of blood seeped out from underneath the door, heading towards the east stairwell that had a sole door that led outside.
The entire time, the sensation of unseen eyes upon us was palpable. Either Liam had shitty perception, or he was too focused on a potential escape route to notice. An instinctive voice screamed within me that I couldn't follow him through it.
My eyes caught sight of a fire extinguisher box mounted on the wall, opposite the janitor’s closet. I strode over to it, my hands trembling. Reaching for the small hammer chained to the box, I took it in my hand and swung it at the corner of the glass. The impact sent a spiderweb of cracks racing across the surface.
A second, more forceful swing shattered the barrier, allowing me to carefully reach in and pull out the axe nestled inside. The cold metal felt heavy and solid in my grip.
Liam eyed the axe warily as I pulled it free. “We have no idea what’s waiting out there or who. This is better than nothing," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
We resumed our walk, the tension between us unspoken. As we neared the door, I knew time was running out. With his back turned to me, unaware of my resolve, I gripped the axe handle tighter. Then, with a surge of adrenaline and a silent apology to the universe for what I was about to do, I swung with all the force I could muster.
Liam spun around just as the axe came down, changing its lethal trajectory to a debilitating wound. The blade sank into his shoulder blade with such ease my stomach lurched, and a guttural scream tore from his throat. He reached over, his fingers wrapped around the handle, his eyes wide with shock and pain.
“What are you doing?” he shouted, disbelief and agony etched into his every feature.
“What I have to,” I replied, my voice betraying none of the tremors that coursed through my limbs. With a grimace, I adjusted my grip on the axe's handle, now slick with the dark sheen of his blood. I braced myself and pulled.
The blade made a sickening sound—a wet, tearing noise as it cleaved through the already mangled flesh, severing sinew and muscle with grotesque fluidity. His next scream was a visceral thing, tearing down the hall and echoing.
Blood, a dark crimson almost black in the low light, poured forth in a gush, staining the tile floor beneath him. A constellation of it spread across my face and clothes.
He turned and stumbled forward, his movements erratic, a hand clamped over the wound, his arm hanging unnaturally.
With a desperate sprint fueled by pain and fear, he managed to burst through the door into the night. I watched, unmoving with adrenaline surging through my veins. He made it only as far as the top of the first set of stairs before his legs gave out, and he fell, tumbling down the steps in a macabre ballet of flailing limbs and cries of agony.
Breathing heavily, sweat coating my skin despite the cold, I walked towards the door, following him into the unforgiving night. The air bit at me mercilessly, a stark reminder of my inadequate attire, fleece pajamas offering little protection against the winter's harsh caress. My coat, hastily thrown on, felt like nothing more than a thin barrier between me and the elements.
My hair, still damp from the shower taken what felt like a lifetime ago, hung in loose, wet strands around my shoulders and down my back.
Each breath formed a misty cloud in front of me, dissipating into the night as quickly as it appeared.
I glanced down at the snow underfoot, once a blanket of untouched purity now marred with a crimson trail. I followed it to the rail that divided the stairs and looked down at Liam’s fallen form. The sight of his blood steaming slightly in the icy air sent a replace shudder down my spine, not just from the cold but from the reality of the situation.