Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
He couldn’t have tracked me down to this place or anything, right?
Thinking about it, Jack’s house is at the other end of town, and there are two overnight convenience stores in the area. Why would he come all the way here to buy a pack of cigarettes?
“Here,” Jack’s raspy voice jerks me out of my musings. He places a pack of cigarettes and a half-drunk can of beer on the counter, his thin lips pulled up into a smile that sends chills up my spine.
I try to keep a straight face as I scan his purchase.
“That’ll be ten ninety-eight,” I say, trying to muster a small smile.
“Here,” Jack says, holding out a hundred-dollar bill to me.
I reach out to take the money from him, and he grabs my hand in a painful hold, jerking me roughly against the counter.
I let out a frightened yelp and grab onto the countertop for support with my free hand.
“What are you doing?”
Jack leans forward until his face is mere inches from mine, and a chilling smile slowly spreads across his face.
“Did you think you could run away from me, Mel?” he asks in a mild tone that contradicts his painfully tight grip on my hand. Pain shoots up my hand to my brain in dizzying waves. I struggle against his hold, but that only makes him angrier. “You little fat slut,” he continues through gritted teeth. “You should be grateful that I want you. Who the hell is it?”
“Wh...What are you talking about?” I ask in a shrill voice, scared out of my mind.
I throw a desperate glance at the door, hoping someone will just come in. Anyone.
Why does the store have to be so deserted tonight of all nights?
“Who the hell is the man you’re sleeping with?” Jerk asks, his nostrils flaring with barely contained anger. His eyes are frighteningly blank like he’s high on something. “You’re staying in a man’s house, aren’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!”
“You’re hurting me, Jack,” I cry. “Let me go!”
Suddenly, Jack goes flying across the store and into the nearest racks.
I gasp in surprise, looking around wildly for the attacker, or savior in this instance.
My eyes grow unbelievably wide as I watch Abram march up to Jack and yank him up by the collar. He rams his fist into Jack’s face once, then twice. Blood spurts out of Frank’s mouth as he groans quietly. Jack lets out a howl and doubles in pain as Abram jams his left knee into his crotch.
“Abram!” I scream as he raises his fist to throw another punch.
He freezes and turns toward my voice, eyes unfocused.
I’ve never seen him so furious.
The usually warm depths of his blue-green eyes have gone frighteningly dark. His body seems to vibrate with uncontained fury.
Something tells me he really will beat Jack into a stupor if he isn’t stopped.
I quickly walk around the counter and place my hand gently on Abram’s arm.
“Please, let him go,” I say to him in a pleading tone, avoiding Jack’s brimming glare.
Abram closes his eyes and lets out a string of curse words. He opens his eyes and glances at me.
His eyes seem to soften a little, and he drops Jack like a bag of crap.
“Get the hell out of here,” Abram says in a quiet voice that does nothing to hide his boiling anger.
Jack pulls himself up, cradling his bloody jaw.
He scurries out of the store, but not before throwing a scalding glance at me over Abram’s shoulder. I swallow hard and tear my gaze away from his creepy black eyes.
Abram steps in front of me and takes my hand gently in his. A muscle ticks in his jaw, the only indication of his residual anger. Yet, his eyes are gentle when he raises them to meet mine.
“Let’s go get this checked out. Your skin is bruising up.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter monotonously, staring detachedly at the angry red marks that Jack’s grip left on my wrist.
What would have happened if Abram hadn’t shown up…? I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about anything.
“That looks painful,” Abram insists. He mutters a soft curse and lets out a sigh of frustration. “That bastard,” he mutters almost to himself. “I should have dragged him to the police station. How could he do that thing to you?”
“It’s fine,” I say, mustering a small smile. “I just need to put some ice on it.”
“Come,” Abram says, already pulling me toward the customers’ waiting area. “Sit down. I’ll get the ice.”
I obey quietly, too tired and overwhelmed to argue otherwise.
Abram hurries to the refrigerator and pulls out a bag of ice. He returns to my side in long, almost hurried strides. He stoops in front of me and gently places the ice pack on the bruised skin.
When he raises his eyes to mine again, his face holds a pained expression that makes my heart clench with some unknown emotion.