Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Since he brought my hair dryer, I use it for the noise while I crush up the pills and then push the powder into a tissue that I fold up tightly and then stick into my pocket.
When I come out, he’s still working. I glance around and notice the bottle of scotch on the counter. He drinks every night while he works.
“Would you like a drink?” I ask softly, trying not to sound suspicious.
He glances up at me and smiles, and I’m reminded of why it was so easy to fall for him. Because he’s a master at hiding his darkness under his disarming smiles and charming words.
“That would be great. Thanks.”
I grab his glass and, without him seeing, pull the tissue out and drop the crushed pills into the bottom, then pour him three fingers, just like he likes. I mix it the best I can and pray he doesn’t notice.
“Here you go,” I say, handing him the drink.
He takes it from me, then pats the seat next to him. “Sit with me,” he says, and I do, hoping to distract him while he drinks.
“When we get home, things are going to be different,” he promises, taking a sip of his drink. “I know you ran because I’d hurt you, but next time, I need you to make better choices.”
I nod robotically, wondering how someone who looks so normal can be so fucked up.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“I know you are,” he says, patting my thigh and then running his hand up my flesh, not stopping until he’s too close to the apex of my thighs.
He squeezes my leg, and I glance down at his hand, wanting to demand he take his fucking hand off me, but instead, I swallow it down and smile sweetly, praying that Violet and I make it out alive.
Brian takes another sip of his drink and types some more on his laptop while I sit obediently, watching as his drink slowly disappears.
Usually, when he takes a single pill, he passes out within thirty minutes, so I’m hoping since there are several pills, he’ll pass out quicker and go into a deep sleep.
“Hey, Brian,” I say, hoping to distract him and wanting some answers. “How did you meet Marie?”
“You mean Nora?” he scoffs. “Crazy bitch found me. Said she knew where you were and offered to help me bring you home.” He glances over at me, his eyes glossy, telling me that the pills are working. “You really should work on who you let into your life.”
Don’t I fucking know it?
“I thought she was my friend,” I admit.
“That’s because you’re far too trusting. You’ve seen the criminals I defend and the shit they pull. You’ve got to be smarter than that.” He shakes his head, but it’s slow because he’s fading fast. “Just be glad I insisted on taking you back,” he slurs. “If I hadn’t, she would’ve taken you out.”
“Well then, thank you for saving us,” I bite out, trying to remain pleasant.
He opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes flutter shut and then open, as if he’s struggling to stay awake. “Fuck, my head is all—”
His words stop. He looks at his drink and then to me, and my heart sinks because he knows.
“You fucking bitch!” he slurs. “What did you give me?”
He reaches for me, but I’m quicker. I jump up from the couch and run to the kitchen. I consider grabbing a knife, but instead go with the frying pan I used to make dinner. I think hitting him with it will create more of an impact than stabbing him. I’ve never stabbed anyone before, and if I don’t take him out, he’s going to come after me, and I won’t win.
“Fuck!” he roars. “What did you give me?”
He comes around the corner, and without giving myself a chance to think, I swing the pan at his head, hoping it will knock him out, just like in the movies.
The first swing knocks him off-balance, but he doesn’t pass out, so I do it again and again.
Brian tries to fight me, but the pills are too strong, and he’s too dazed and weak to take me down. I hit him once more, and it knocks him to the floor. The side of his head is gushing out blood, and he’s struggling to get up.
I’m not sure if he’s going to pass out or come after me, so I throw the pan down and run to the room Violet’s in. I pick her up and make a run for it out of the house.
Brian is still on the floor, trying to get up, so I run as fast as I can while holding my five-year-old, and I keep running until we’re lost somewhere in the woods.
Then, I stop and look around and wonder what the hell I was thinking because we might be out, but I have no phone and no idea where we are.