Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“This was fun.” From the corner of my eye, I see James standing. “Take her back to her room.” He won’t even acknowledge me directly. I might as well not be human.
I gather my things quickly, not bothering to put them back on. What’s the point of modesty now? Colt waits until I pick up the last piece of clothing, then I follow him up the stairs. I keep my head down, my eyes on the floor. I just want to be alone. Soon, I’ll be in my room, and I’ll be alone. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
And then what? I get to relive this all night? All the while anticipating what happens tomorrow? I can only believe it will get worse from here.
I doubt it will be enough, having his sons do this. Eventually, he’s going to want to do it himself. No matter what Nix says, no matter what James told them. Soon, it’s not going to be enough.
A single word from Colt might make it better, but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t make a sound or crack a smile. He doesn't do anything besides opening my door and stepping aside so I can enter the room. I haven’t yet turned around before he’s closed it again, locking it as I expected.
Dropping my clothes, I make a beeline to the shower. There’s not enough hot water in the tank to make me feel clean. Nothing ever will again. But I might spend a while trying.
CHAPTER 27
There’s pounding at the door.
I wake up in the dark, and immediately, my heart’s in my throat. I break out in a cold sweat when somebody pounds against the bedroom door again. They fight with the knob, turning it—or trying to. All it does is jiggle a little, but there’s no opening the door while it’s locked.
“What the fuck is this?” Again, more pounding, more jiggling of the knob. “Motherfucker! Is this a fucking joke?”
I clutch the blankets close to me, my fear exploding and threatening to pull a scream from my throat when I realize it’s James. He’s trying to get in.
He goes silent for a moment, and I think he’s given up—until the pounding turns into a solid thud. Then another, another. I bite down on my fist to quiet a scream I can’t hold back. He’s trying to break the door down. He’s going to break the damn door down!
“Motherfucker…” Thud! “Think you can…” Thud! “Keep away from me?” Thud!
But it’s no use. The lock won’t give, and the door’s too strong. At least now I know how impossible it is to break the thing down, but only now that it’s locked against him.
He doesn’t have a key. Nix’s words come back to me, and now I understand what he was saying. James doesn’t have the key to the door. Why not? Why do they have it?
He’s not giving up, and eventually, something will break, and he’ll get in. I look around in a panic, my eyes combing the darkness for something, anything I can use to fight him off. I can’t let him hurt me. I can’t, I won’t. A bookend on one of the shelves catches my eye, and I tumble out of bed, running forward and clutching it to me. Prepared to use it, and use it again, and keep using it until he’s dead. I would rather kill him than let him touch me.
The silence is even more terrifying, maybe because of how suddenly it comes on. All at once, he seems to give up the fight. I don’t even hear him walk away. Naturally, that means it’s impossible for me to relax. I tiptoe to the door, holding my breath, listening hard. Is he out there, still? Trying to come up with a plan, maybe? There has to be another key around here somewhere. Or maybe he’ll attack the hinges next. My heart pounds wildly at the thought, and a cold, sickening certainty settles into my bones. He’s not going to stop. He’s never going to stop until he gets what he wants.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it isn’t enough to keep me from gasping when the lock clicks. No, this is it. He found a key. Oh, my god, what am I going to do? I have to protect myself. I have to, no matter what it means.
Yet instead of James appearing, it’s Nix. He slips into the room and closes the door quietly, then inserts what looks like nothing more than a small metal pick into a tiny hole on the knob. He tests it, trying to turn it, but it’s locked again. Son of a bitch. How did he do that?
Then he turns to me, looks me up and down, and seems to understand the situation all at once. “It’s all right. Everything is fine now. Go to bed.”