Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“You have no idea who’s behind this?” Cy asks.
The man turns to him, his eyes bulging, so wide now so I can see the whites.
“No, but I can guarantee you. It was no fucking accident.”
“Tell me what you know.”
He looks at Cy. “You don’t remember anything, do you? You stayed the most sane of all of us, you bastard. But you don’t remember fucking anything.”
“I remember we were taken,” Cy said. “We were…there were drugs…” his voice fades as he scowls.
“I don’t remember everything either, but between me and Will, we pieced things together. Someone was behind our abduction. Someone kidnapped us, drugged us, affected our fuckin’ memories. You can do a fuckin’ lot to the human brain.” He shudders. “I ought to know. Did it myself.”
Cy stares at him, shaking his head. “What did they do to us?” he asks softly.
The man glowers, his eyes red and bloodshot. “Made us fuckin’ savages. Manipulated our brains and bodies so we’re more animal than human. We did shit, kept us together. At first. Will tried to kill me. I killed him first. And when I did…” his voice trailed off. He shakes his head. “It came as natural to me as a lion killin’ its prey.”
“Jesus,” Cy mutters.
“They brought us here. They’ve been watchin’ us. Made this happen. None of its real. None of its fuckin’ real.”
“God,” I say, my voice shaking. “How do we get off?”
“That’s just it, sweetheart,” he says. “We don’t.”
He shakes his head and lunges for the knife. Cy and I both reach for him but he gets it before we do and he retreats, holding it out. “Not gonna hurt you. But I want off this island, and I ain’t ever goin’ home. So I’m gettin’ off this fuckin’ island.”
It’s like it plays out in slow motion. His hand at his throat. The sickening sight of skin ripped open by sharp metal. Blood. Oh, God, so much fucking blood.
It splashes on the ground. I scream and scream, covering my mouth with my hands, screaming for the body in the throes of death at my feet and the life snuffed out so easily. Screaming for the knowledge that I was tricked, that I wasn’t meant to be here. Screaming because I can’t take this anymore.
I’m in Cy’s arms and he’s tucking me against his chest and carrying me away with his long strides.
“Your arm,” I sob.
“Hush, baby,” he says. “You’re light as a feather. I’m only holding you with one arm.”
I don’t fight it. I don’t say a word. He carries me back to the shelter, shuts, and barricades the door.
We lay down in silence and don’t speak.
After a while, there comes a certain quiet after trauma. You can’t cry anymore. You can’t even really think. It’s during that quiet that he holds me, rocking me gently against his chest. I’m hungry and thirsty, but I don’t care anymore.
“You were right,” I whisper.
“Wish that made it better,” he whispers back, running his fingers through my hair from top to bottom. It feels nice. I sigh.
We lie in the silence for a little while longer. I can’t help but feel the raw attraction to him that I always do, but I know now it isn’t natural. It isn’t part of who I am, but somehow…
“We have to find them, Harper,” he says.
“We do.”
I don’t need to ask him who or what. We’ll find the cameras, and the people behind this.
“We’ll get off this island, baby.”
We will. “But where will that leave us? And how?”
“I don’t know, Harper. But I love you. And no matter what happens next, we’re in this together.”
I reach for his hand and entwine my fingers with his. “I love you, Cy. Together.”