Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I didn’t care about getting a terrible lunch and dinner, about getting struck in the face. This was wrong, and while my actions wouldn’t stop what was about to happen, I had to do something, had to let all this pain out in some way. My eyes watered again, disturbed when I hadn’t even seen it happen yet with my own eyes.
He pushed my wrists to my sides before he released me. After a long stare, he turned around and walked forward again, exposing his back to me like he wasn’t concerned that I would slam my fist right into his back.
I watched him walk away, tears in my eyes, shocked that his fingers hadn’t gripped my throat and choked me.
After a few more steps, he stopped and turned back to me slightly. “The first time is the worst. But you’ll feel numb for the others.”
They waited until the end of the workday.
I noticed my lunch was the same as everyone else’s, as if my guard hadn’t reported my bad behavior. But I couldn’t appreciate the gesture because I was sick to my stomach, terrified of what was coming.
When the sun was nearly gone, torches along the perimeter were lit, like it was a ceremony. The flames blanketed everyone’s faces in the dark. Most of the women looked indifferent, like they really were used to this, like they would go back to their cabins as if nothing had happened. Others looked afraid—like they might be the next victim.
Then a man came into the clearing—a man I’d never seen before.
He was taller than the others, had to be six foot five, and while he was dressed like the other guards, a hood didn’t hide his face.
But he was more terrifying—because he had a metal plate over his face covering everything below his eyes. There were slits in the metal so he could breathe, but when his harsh eyes were the only things on display, it was somehow more menacing than no face at all. He walked down the rows of tables, his heavy footfalls echoing against the soil like he was stepping across the hardwood floor of a quiet house.
Every woman was absolutely still, eyes down, as if any contact would make him choose them.
Bethany sat across from me, her eyes on the table too, like she didn’t want to watch the enormous man walk up and down the tables, selecting his next victim, even though my guard had told me they already knew who it was. Maybe because I knew that information, it made me less afraid to watch him, to see the most horrifying event of my entire life.
He kept moving, his eyes looking at every woman he passed, all of their chins down while the shakes made them shiver—and not from the cold.
My sister had been working like everyone else, so I doubted she was the victim, not when she was fresh…as they described us. I watched him move down my row, anxious for it to be over because he’d terrorized us for minutes now, acting like he could feel the palpable fear rising from each and every one of us.
Like he got off on it.
He moved farther down the row, his eyes moving left to right, glancing between the two tables.
I stared, watching him move, seeing the bulky muscles through his clothing, seeing a man who weighed more than an ox.
Bethany lifted her gaze and looked at me, her eyes wide as if she couldn’t believe I was openly staring at him. His back was to her, so she gave me a slight kick under the table, telling me to drop my gaze.
But I couldn’t.
He suddenly stopped, his head tilted, his wide and unblinking eyes focused on me. The stare lasted for hours, at least it felt that way, when it was only seconds. The women behind him turned to look at me, to watch him stare at me. He held his look, his eyes slowly widening into a maddening stare, as if he was waiting for me to back down first.
My entire body started to shake in terror, and I dropped my gaze.
Then he moved again, walking to a table farther away from us.
Bethany was shaking too, as if she feared she might be the next victim.
I lifted my gaze to watch him now that he was on the other side of the clearing.
He stopped behind a woman who was older than me, maybe in her forties.
She kept her chin down, but she started to shake uncontrollably as if she already knew her number had been called. Tears glistened in her eyes before she shut them tight, the moisture dripping from her lids and down her cheeks.
He grabbed her by the back of the neck and dragged her from the bench.
She screamed and screamed, her shouts of terror echoing across the clearing, burning hotter than the flames on the torches.