Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I was excited for all that and more, ready to rain kisses on him, every one on him, from his feet to his forehead. I wanted to worship him, spend the evening doing nothing but each other.
Unfortunately for the both of us, life had other plans. Twisted plans. Noah’s nightmare was far from over. In fact, from the moment I picked up his panicked call as I parked my new car in the driveway, I knew that this nightmare had only just begun.
21
NOAH BARNES
I kissed Jake goodbye as he left my place, heading out for a fun-filled day of used-car shopping with his good friend Ashley. It was early in the morning, but I wasn’t sleepy in the slightest. Not after Jake woke me up with his lips around my morning wood. I leaned against the closed door and stretched, happy with how this day (and many of the previous ones) started off. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of rolling over in my bed and feeling Jake’s firm and naked body next to mine. It was like waking up from a dream only to land in an even better one.
I shuffled over to my kitchen, scratching my belly and pausing for another stretch before I started on making my coffee. While it brewed, I got a clean bowl out of the dishwasher and went into my pantry, grabbing the colorful box of cereal and pouring a generous amount into the bowl.
At my dining table, I settled in by propping my phone up against the napkin holder and sipping on the coffee as I scrolled through the morning news. One headline made me pause midsip: Murder of another gay man puts community on high alert.
I opened the article, picking up my phone and leaning back in the chair.
The death of Alex Torres marks the fifth gay man murdered in Atlanta within the last year, all under similar circumstances. Police have been hesitant to spread panic and have avoided using the term ‘serial killer’ but after a press conference held yesterday evening, the Atlanta Chief of Police stated they are on the hunt for a serial killer targeting the queer community.
Further details on the murders are being withheld in order to protect the investigation.
… Fuck. Gay guys were the targets? That bit of information was new to me. No one had made that link publicly before, and it was a chilling connection to even think about. Our community was already small enough (and traumatized enough) as it was; now we had to be suspicious of someone picking us off one by one?
I spooned some cereal into my mouth as I searched around for more information, my morbid curiosity getting the best of me. There were unsubstantiated rumors floating around social media, but nothing that came from an official source.
He’s a local.
They’re cutting off the victim’s penis.
I heard he uses chemicals to paralyze and torture his victims.
It was all too creepy for me, especially this early in the morning. I closed out of the screen and opened up a mindless video app. I tried using the viral dances and trending sounds to scrub my brain clean, but it wasn’t working. I kept circling back to the news, and then I started thinking about my own issue—could they be related?
No, absolutely not. I shook off a shiver that traveled between my shoulders. Thankfully, it had been a couple of weeks from that break-in attempt at Jake’s house, and nothing else had happened since. It made me seriously consider the fact that maybe Franky was involved, and us confronting him may have worked to scare him off.
It was really the only theory that gave me any sense of comfort, which meant it would be the theory I stuck with until proven otherwise.
I got up and brought my half-eaten bowl of cereal to the sink, where I dumped the rest out after my appetite had been effectively destroyed. The trash compactor whirred and buzzed when I flipped the switch. I turned it off just as my doorbell rang.
Did Jake leave something?
I shuffled out of the kitchen and back to the front door, looking through the peephole and seeing no one. I cracked the door open and peeked outside, spotting a delivery truck driving down my street. I opened the door wider and looked down, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
It was a box. Same shape as the last one left on Robby’s door. It only took me a moment to shake off the curtain of fear, this one having a clear shipping and return label on the flap. There was no blood staining the sides either. My fight-or-flight response disappeared, replaced by a simmering excitement.
This was the gift I’d ordered for Jake. I planned on giving it to him at our cabin retreat for the book club. With a relieved breath, I went to close my door but was stopped by a friendly “Hey!” I looked down my steps and spotted Robby waving up at me, shielding his eyes from the sun that beamed directly into them.