Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I hated that visual.
I wanted to be there for her.
Wait.
What the fuck?
No, I didn't.
I absolutely did not.
That was insane.
I forced myself to turn away from her house where all the lights were flipping on, getting in my car, trying to shake the weird, unnatural urge I had to charge back into that house, telling her I would keep guard for the night so she could sleep.
Because that shit was not like me.
FIVE
Aven
My house was lit up like Mischief Night, just daring those little troublemaking shits to come up and smash my pumpkins or TP my trees.
The entire inside of the house smelled clean. And not just "oh, I Pledged the wood and Windexed the windows clean," but industrial solvent clean. Industrial solvent with an undercurrent of something minty, I guess to try to cut the chemical smell.
It didn't work.
But, still, I was pretty sure my house hadn't been this clean when I had moved in. Every corner looked vacuumed and wiped. The counters were sparkling. Finn had even been able to get some shine going on my hardwood floors that had long since lost their coating.
Even back rooms that I was pretty sure had never been touched by the creeper were cleaned. My blanket that I kept on the back of my couch had been washed, along with my drapes, and it seemed like all my clothes. Seriously, crazy meticulous. But that worked in my favor.
Hell, even the inside of my washing machine smelled like bleach as though he had cleaned that after cleaning everything I owned inside of it.
I hadn't been able yet, though, to drag myself up to my bedroom to flick that light on. I had gotten halfway up before my stomach rolled, threatening to send the Chinese back upward. I decided to go ahead and allow myself that small bit of weakness. But only for the day. I would have to get myself back in there eventually, no matter how uncomfortable it made me.
For the time being, I made Mackey some real dinner since some pieces of that bright red meat stuff one of Quin's guys handed him before we left wasn't a meal. Then I forced myself to walk around, making tea, gathering blankets and throw pillows, trying to decide where I would possibly feel safe to sleep for the night.
I knew, rationally, that there was nothing to fear.
He was gone.
The 'for good' kind of gone.
But I was still jumping at the wind and the house-settling noises. In the end, I grabbed my small arsenal of usable weapons - a giant kitchen knife, a cast iron skillet, and a golf club that had been left behind by a previous owner, and I made a makeshift bed in my bathroom, locking the door, and wedging a kitchen chair under the knob just for extra assurance.
Both my cells were sitting on the edge of the tub as I stared up into the exhaust fan as a few hours ticked away.
Later, and there was no real telling how much later, I eventually did drift off.
I woke in the early hours of morning with a sick feeling in my stomach, a sign from my childhood that I had had nightmares, even if my mind couldn't remember them upon waking.
Taking a deep breath, I inched my way out of the bathroom, doing a lap around my house with a displeased Mackey who really just wanted to go outside, not play guard dog to his traumatized owner.
Finding nothing - not that I had truly expected to see anything - I found my purse where I had stashed the makeup Quin had mentioned - and Jules had supplied - and finally did it.
Went up the stairs.
There was no more avoiding it since I needed to get ready for work, and the only way to do that was to go up to my bedroom to get clothes out of my closet.
My hand closed around the knob, making me take a deep breath of the chemical/mint combination I was oddly growing a little fond of, and pushed it open.
Finn had left the blinds up, the windows open to air it out, so the morning light was streaming in over my perfectly made bed covered in a somewhat dainty cream-colored comforter complete with shams and new sheets. The carpet he seemed to earnestly hope I liked was plush under my bare feet, beige, with a light swirling pattern that was as though someone had pressed it into the fibers.
It was leaps and bounds nicer than my old carpet.
I was almost a little amazed at how nice my room looked. Almost like it was a different space. Maybe that was what Finn had been going for. Maybe he knew that if it were different enough, it would be easier to forget what had taken place.
But even as I moved around and admired the newness of it all, I felt my body hugging the walls, keeping a wide berth from the spot that the body had been sprawled, as I made my way to the closet to dig out some clothes.