Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 272(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Afterward, I take my sweet time in the bathroom, washing my hands and face, brushing my teeth, and combing my hair. It’s a small act of defiance, but the thought of him waiting on me does make me feel a tiny bit better.
When I run out of things to do, I slowly open the bathroom door, ready to give him my best angry face, only to find he is not in the room anymore. I look around, dumbfounded, and even stick my head into the closet, but he is nowhere to be found.
Did he leave me here on my own… uncuffed?
The excitement of that thought doesn’t even have time to build before I hear the sounds of dishes clinking together coming from the kitchen. So he didn’t leave. Still, this is the first time he let me out of sight without restraining me. This is my chance.
I look around the room to find my clothes. Getting dressed quickly, I curse myself for wasting so much time in the bathroom. How long did he sit here and wait? When is he going to come and check on me? Maybe this is a bad idea.
Before I can talk myself out of this, I tiptoe to the window and unlock the two latches. I push it up… or at least I try to. Using both hands, I shove the window up using all my strength, but it won’t budge. Confused, I scan the corners of the window and find a metal lock deadbolts to the edge. Fuck!
Briefly, I entertain the thought of trying to break the window, but I don’t think I could, and even if I was able to, the loud sound would alert him before I could make it far. I need a better plan.
Balling my hands into fists, I take a deep breath, forcing the adrenaline from my failed escape to stop pumping through my body so he won’t suspect anything.
When I find myself calm enough, I take off my shoes and put them back exactly the way I found them. I make my way into the kitchen and find him in front of the stove. The butter sizzles as he cracks eggs into a large pan, filling the space with a savory breakfast smell.
“I figured you would be hungry,” he tells me. “I got eggs and bacon from the store, pancake mix too. I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”
“Yes, I’m hungry.” I try to keep my voice even. “Eggs are great. I’m not picky.” I’ve never had the luxury of being picky about food. When you grow up the way I did, either you eat what you have or you go hungry. Everything tastes good when you’re hungry enough. “Can I help you with anything? I feel weird just standing here and watching you do all the work.”
“You can get another pan for the bacon. It’s in the cabinet under the kitchen island.”
“Okay.” I step past him to get to the island behind him. Leaning down, I open the cabinet and look inside. There are multiple frying pans and pots inside. I grab a skillet that’s going to be great for bacon. I reach inside and wrap my fingers around the cast-iron handle.
As soon as I pick it up and realize how heavy this thing is, an idea forms in my head. Peeking over my shoulder, I make sure he is still turned away from me.
My eyes fall on his broad back, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he stirs the eggs. Gripping the handle tightly, I stand up straight and tiptoe behind him.
My heart is racing furiously, the rapid beat of it knocking the air from my lungs. I lift the heavy cast-iron pan over my head, cringing at the thought of hurting him. I’ve never hurt anyone, but I know I have to do this. I have to. For me and for Grams.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I swing the pan as hard as I can, aiming for the back of his head. The loud thud on impact vibrates through me, making my stomach twist with guilt. Alaric groans, and I open my eyes just in time to see his large body hit the ground. His head bounces off the tile floor, making me shudder.
Oh, my god! Blood trickles from the back of his head onto the floor, and suddenly, running away is the last thing on my mind. Did I kill him?
For a moment, I simply stand there frozen in place, still holding the pan because I don’t know what else to do. More blood trickles from his wound, forming a small red puddle on the white floor.
What was I thinking?
“Ughh,” Alaric groans, clearing the shock-induced fog from my mind.
He is alive. A mixture of relief and fear takes residence in my chest. He is alive, and he is probably going to kill me now. I need to run!