Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“What’s up his ass?” I ask Eddie even though my eyes are on the glass door as it closes behind him.
After a moment with no response, I look over at Eddie, but he’s already gone. The notepad remains on the counter, the top piece ripped off.
There are enemies everywhere. Every step of the way.
The deeper I get with Romano, the less likely it is I’ll ever have a chance to leave.
CHLOE
They feel so real. That’s why I can’t shake them.
The nightmares are something I was used to when I hadn’t come to terms with the reality.
My mother’s gone.
She died years ago.
I remind myself once again and blow across the top of the full cup of tea in my hands, but it’s no longer hot, it’s barely lukewarm. I’ve only just now realized I must have been holding it for a while without even taking a single sip. I’m slow to set the cup down on the end table and then reach for the blanket. My fingers grip on to the soft woven fabric like it can save me. Just as I used to think when I was a child.
My mother’s gone.
She died years ago.
It was hard to say the words back then, but I have to keep saying them now.
Not because I don’t believe them, but because every time I fall asleep now, she’s there, haunting me and saying things that scare me. Things she knows would put true fear into my heart. She’s reminding me of memories I’ve long buried.
She’s angry and wants revenge for what happened. I can feel it. Her killer joining her six feet in the dirt isn’t enough justice. She’s starved for more. A taste of his blood wasn’t enough.
When I wake up breathless and terrified by how realistic the dreams are, I can feel the weight of her hand gripping my arm, but no sane person would believe me. I would just sound crazy.
I’m going crazy. I know that’s what they’d say and as I pull my knees into my chest on the sofa, I struggle to deny it. I’m fucking insane.
All I can think, is that whatever Sebastian gave me is fucking with my head. I can’t sleep without seeing her, without feeling her. I swear the scratch on the back of my neck is from her.
I don’t want to go to sleep. I only took the sweets, as Sebastian calls it, that one time, but I’ve been so fucked up since then. Although, so much more has happened since then too.
My fingers press into my tired eyes, feeling the burning need to sleep and I remember how I woke up last night, sweating, crying, my throat raw as if I’d been screaming. I prayed like I’d never prayed before and when I whispered for someone to help me, I felt the coldness of her presence. As the chill traveled up my spine, I swear I heard my mother whisper, “I am.”
A sudden knock at the door has my heart galloping in my chest. Two days of not sleeping but also not knowing what to do has left me jolting at every sudden sound.
“Chlo,” I hear Sebastian’s voice call out through the front door and he knocks again as he says, “Open up.”
Just hearing his voice is calming, and I easily swing my legs down and listen to my bare feet pad across the floor as I go to unlock the door and let him in.
I swing open the door without even looking in the small mirror in the hall to see if I look presentable. I’m sure I look like hell, and I wouldn’t keep him waiting, so it doesn’t matter anyway.
With his hand still raised to knock again, we both stand there for a moment, waiting for the other to say something. I swallow thickly, feeling the nervousness rise up again. He’s never taken so long to say anything before.
“You look like you’re ready for me to drag you to bed,” he finally tells me and then steps inside, not waiting for me to invite him in.
“If you’re lucky, I’d let you.” I try to make it sound like a joke, but at this point, I would. “I feel like I’m going to fall over,” I tell him groggily and turn my back on him to saunter back to the living room, but he grabs my wrist as he kicks the door shut behind him.
It closes with a click.
“What?” I ask him, staring pointedly where his fingers are wrapped possessively around my wrist. “I wasn’t serious. You aren’t dragging me anywhere.”
Keeping my face deadpan, he cracks a smile and then I mirror his, a small simper of a smile, but it doesn’t reflect anything that I feel.
“You okay?” he asks me.
Blowing a lock of hair away from my face and straightening the strap of the tank top on my shoulder I nod and ask, “What’s going on?” No matter how much I want to tell someone about my nightmares, I refuse to speak the words out loud. It would only make me sound unhinged.