Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
A bead of sweat runs down my forehead, but as I reach the door, I force myself to turn the knob, then pull it open and peer into the hallway.
Another sound catches my attention.
This time it’s not coming from inside. Sounds like the backyard.
I hurry to the window and force the blinds apart.
My room light refracts off the windowpane, making it difficult to see, but I notice a moving silhouette on the inside of the fence.
The hell?
Is someone back there?
But that first sound was in the house, for sure. Was someone trying to get in and gave up?
I start to spin around when I’m shoved from behind, something pushing against my back. I jump from the scare, reaching back, and my elbow hits something.
“Ow, fuck!” I hear as I realize there’s an arm around my waist.
The blood drains from my face.
My heart races.
My throat dries.
The fuck is going on?
“Hey, hey,” the man who’s got me whispers, “I’m armed.”
I feel something at my cheek and turn to see a gun.
A fucking gun!
I freeze, and I realize that at some point when my attacker grabbed me, I dropped the damn disinfectant. Not that it would have done me much good, but it was all I had.
“Keep quiet,” he whispers in a low, deep voice. “Nod so I know you heard me.”
I obey, noticing how much my body’s trembling.
“Put your hands up by your head.”
Again, I follow his instructions, hoping to spare myself a bullet to the head.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, but you need to do what I say, got it?”
I’m sure that’s what any psychopath would tell his victim, but I nod anyway.
He keeps his arm tight around me as he guides me back toward my closet.
Really wish I’d signed up for a self-defense class at some point in my not terribly long life, but the best I could do now is maybe try some moves I’ve seen on TV and in movies and wind up getting myself killed.
As he opens my closet, I catch a glimpse of him in the full-length mirror.
About half a foot shorter than me.
Pale face.
Dirty-blond hair.
Steel-blue eyes.
That creep from next door?
What. The. Fuck?
I’ve barely had the thought before he drags me into the closet, leaving the door ajar, so some of the room light spills in.
It’s just the two of us, breathing intensely.
I’m still shaking. Or is he shaking? Are we both shaking?
He tugs me close to his body.
I don’t feel the gun, but I imagine he’s got it aimed at my head, maybe planning to finish me off now.
My mind runs through scenarios of what he’s gonna do to me.
Maybe kill me.
Maybe do some other terrible things to me before killing me.
That’s what he has to do now that I’ve seen him, right?
Why the fuck did he pull me into a closet? No one’s here. He could just as easily do whatever he wants to me in the bedroom.
“Stay in here.” His hot breath hits my ear, and I gulp and nod. “I’m gonna go check and see if they’re still here.”
I barely process the words before he rushes out, quietly closing the door behind him.
Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting…
I figured he would beat the shit out of me, sexually assault me…do something vile that I hadn’t had time to consider…
But he left me in here…for reasons I can’t imagine.
My heartbeat is in a frenzy, my nerves on edge, all my survival impulses telling me: get out of this alive.
It takes a few moments, but his words come back to me: “I’m gonna go check and see if they’re still here.”
The shadow in the backyard. Was someone else here? Did Zane come by to make sure I was okay?
No, this isn’t how someone reacts to their neighbor having a burglar in their house.
Not even a little.
I press my ear against the door, listening out for him. A few moments pass before I hear a familiar creak down the hall. I recognize that creak; it’s from inside my parents’ bedroom.
Just stay in here like he told you.
But my phone is still charging on my nightstand, and maybe if I can get to it, I can call the police. This could be my only chance to make a break for it.
Still shaking, I turn the doorknob slowly, hoping I won’t make too much noise. I’m equally cautious about opening the door.
My phone’s still on my nightstand, but he’s left the bedroom door open, so if I go for it and he comes back down the hall, he’ll see me. And if he sees me, knowing I disobeyed him, he might fucking kill me.
He might kill you anyway.
But if that’s what he wanted, why leave me in this closet alone? And who was that in the backyard?
I don’t have time to figure it out. I need to get the phone and get help.