Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Not only was I safe, but I was alone. There was no one in here, except me.
I relaxed a little.
It was a weeknight and a school night. Made sense that the place would be empty. It was weird that they still ran the film even if no one bought a ticket, though.
I set my bag on the floor and reached inside, thankful that the contents were still dry, and pulled out my phone, checking on my grandmother again.
She still laid in the dark, on her bed, the monitor in the room beeping steadily and raising no alarms. Sometimes I worried about leaving her alone with Martin, but he really didn’t care to deal with her more than he had to.
I clutched the phone in my hand and sat back in the seat, wincing at the pain I forgot was there as I looked up at the screen and saw Godzilla.
A small smile turned up the corners of my lips.
I like Godzilla.
And before I knew it, I had popcorn and sat there staring at the screen, my eyes attached to every frame as my brother faded away, school faded away, Will Grayson faded away, and lit class faded away.
Because Godzilla was great.
And Lolita hurt my head.
Emory
Present
“Will?” I climbed up on my hands and knees, patting the stone floor and feeling the grime under my hands.
Where had he taken me?
I blinked in the darkness, trying to see, but it was so black. I touched my face. Where the hell were my glasses?
Shit.
I could see decently without them or the contacts that I sometimes used, but not with the darkness making it even more difficult. I rose up off the ground, the uneven stones under my shoes curving into my soles.
I looked around, shoving my hair behind my ear. Nothing pierced the darkness. No sliver of light. No moon. No lamps. Nothing.
I’d fought and thrashed and hit, and the next thing I knew, we went through a door, down some stairs, turned a corner, and everything suddenly went dark.
Will, my God. It had been years since he got out of prison. Why had he waited until now?
I breathed in the cold air, the scent soaked with soil and water, as I spun around.
He’d changed. He looked exactly the same and worlds different at the same time.
His eyes…
Was he going to let something happen to me?
“I told you I wasn’t lying,” someone said, and I stiffened.
It sounded like Taylor Dinescu’s voice in the room, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything.
“I knew you weren’t,” another man said on the other side of me. “Girls smell different. She was all over the house when we walked in.”
I twisted around, facing the new voice.
But then another one spoke up from my left. “I say let her run,” he taunted. “She’ll die out there anyway.”
I spun toward him, breathing hard and holding out my hands. Where were they?
Where the hell were they?!
“Before we’ve gotten acquainted, Rory?” the other one I didn’t know asked. “Come on. I’m bored. She’s welcome to stay as far as I’m concerned. Aren’t you bored?”
“No,” Rory replied in a clipped tone. “I like things just the way they are.”
Laughs echoed around the room, Taylor joking, “You may have all you need here, man, but I sure don’t.”
“Where’s my glasses?” I yelled. “Turn on the fucking lights!”
“You got it.” The one who wasn’t Taylor, Rory, or Will said. “Here.”
A glow suddenly brightened a few feet away from me, and I blinked several times, adjusting to the light as a dark form lit a candle. Brick walls came into view, and someone was in front of me, holding something out.
I stumbled back, sucking in a breath, but then I noticed my glasses in his hand and grabbed them. “Get away from me,” I said, moving away.
“Relax, baby,” he cooed. “We were just afraid you’d break them. Don’t want you to not see this.”
A snort went off somewhere, and I slipped my glasses on, jerking my head left and right and taking it all in.
Ceilings made of wood hung low, water dripped down, wetting the brick on the walls, and wooden barrels sat around the room as empty wine racks, taller than me, filled the rest of the space. Stairs led up to a set of doors in the ceiling behind me, and a furnace ran, grumbling in the corner. We were in a basement. This house might have several.
I eyed the doors.
“Micah.” The guy who gave me my glasses approached me again, holding out his hand. “Moreau.”
I quickly backed away, shooting a glare from his hand up to him.
Micah Moreau? I took in his shaggy black hair hanging down his neck and around his ears, piercing blue eyes and a dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. Maybe early twenties.
Moreau, Moreau…
“As in Stalinz Moreau?” I inquired, unable to catch my breath.