Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
He took one last step toward me, and I felt and heard the bed skid back an inch as his muscular legs came up against it. He hovered right over me, so tall I knew my bent knees did nothing to hide any bit of my body from his sight, and there was this glint in his eyes that beckoned me to challenge what he said.
“I guess the most important question right now is… are you going to fight me?”
My head tilted all the way back as I stared up at him, and I shook it slowly, my voice barely a whisper, as I answered, “No.”
Although he showed no emotion or expression, I knew he was… disappointed.
He wanted me to fight him even though he said he didn’t.
He wanted me to fight him because it would turn him on like the fucking sicko he already confessed he was.
He looked me over and said, “That's my good girl.”
My eyes went wide as saucers, my mouth dropped opened as my jaw unlocked, and I felt… something I didn't want to examine as it moved through me at those four words. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and whatever he saw in me right then had this dangerous sound leaving his chest.
“You’re going to do as I say. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll make sure you’re unharmed when this is all said and done.”
And for some reason, I believed him once again.
He watched me with that unsettling, predatory stare, and I took a moment to look at him. To really look at him. His dark hair was cut short and was slightly disheveled around his head. His eyes were dark—as dark as I assumed his soul was, if he even had one. But I thought I saw a hint of blue between the shadows.
He had what looked like several days’ worth of black scruff covering his cheeks and chin, and the scar on the side of his face that curved down his neck and stopped at his collarbone made me curious about how he got it.
“You’re a killer.” I slowly looked back up at his face, shocked I wasn't afraid of uttering those words.
“I am, little girl. I’m a cold-blooded killer… and you’re trapped inside your house with me,” he said, the last part coming out almost as an afterthought. “But every single one of them deserved my wrath.” The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Some just like it violent, Evelina.”
It was as if the devil whispered that intimately in my ear, and I shivered at the indecent thoughts it provoked.
“So, we understand each other, right?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to respond. This wasn’t just an invasion of my home—it was a complete takeover, a violation of everything safe and familiar, and I had no choice but to accept it all.
“Take a moment to gather yourself and then come downstairs.”
But as terrifying as he was, I clung to the fact that he hadn’t hurt me yet. If I kept calm, if I didn’t push him and obeyed, maybe I would survive this like he said. I was trapped with a criminal—a psychopath—who had nothing to lose and no reason to show mercy.
So, I’d play along. I’d be the good girl he wanted me to be.
Suddenly, with him out of the room, I heard rain pelting against the window, heard the wind howling through the cracks between the logs of this old cabin. The storm had come. And it looked like it wasn’t just raging outside of my house.
My house.
My home.
That small thought replaced some of the overpowering fear I felt the past several minutes with indignation.
This cabin was mine. All mine. And no one, not even a convicted killer, could take it from me.
Doing just as he said, I gathered myself, all right.
There would be a time, sometime during this situation, when I would gather not only my wits but also my strength, turn the tables, and fight back.
And maybe then, the emotionless psychopath himself would finally know what fear felt like.
5
EVELINA
Twenty minutes later, I still hadn’t gone downstairs, but the smell of sizzling food suddenly wafted up the stairs and into my bedroom. I’d been thinking about ways to escape.
Believe me, I sure as hell tried to come up with any way to get me out of this hellish situation.
But there were only three windows on the second story. One was in my bedroom and one in the second bedroom, both of which were painted shut, and the third being the tiny one in the bathroom, which was barely big enough for ventilation much less a full-grown woman’s body.
So, yeah… I was good and fucked.
Another inhale brought the scent of food, pulling me from the haze of dread that clung to me since I realized I was a hostage in my own home. I still sat on the edge of my bed staring at my fingers that I twisted together in my lap.