Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
A sick sensation rose up my throat as I heard the shuffle again, but this time coming from the row where I’d just walked away from.
Making my footsteps as quiet as possible, I inched forward toward the end of the row of lockers, intent on peeking around and trying to calm my nerves.
But as soon as I stepped out from the relative protection of the lockers, I saw him.
My mind flashed back to my apartment, to the figure all in black charging at me, hitting me, then issuing one final threat before disappearing again.
For a split second, I tried to tell myself that there were lots of people here, that there was no reason to assume he was here to hurt me.
Until I remembered it was summer.
And there was absolutely no reason for a man to be wearing a hoodie, with the hood up, unless he was trying not to be recognized.
Panic, already swirling, surged, making my pulse pound in my chest, throat, and wrists as a cold sweat broke out across my neck and back, chilling me instantly.
I needed to run.
But he was standing directly in front of my exit back into the gym, where I would be, hopefully, safe.
I opened my mouth, ready to scream, just as the crowd in the gym erupted in outrage, people yelling, cursing, the cameras likely catching all of it.
I was about to lose hope when I remembered that this was a public building that had to live up to fire safety protocols. Meaning there had to be another exit from this locker room.
Decision made, I turned and ran back into the row of lockers, finding myself dead-ending at the bathroom with its stalls that would provide only the illusion of safety. Anyone could get over or under them if they were determined enough. Why weren’t stalls full rooms?
On a whimper as the chaos seemed to reach a fever pitch in the gym, I flew down another row of lockers, then took a hairpin turn when I saw him appear, taking me back down the other way.
It was then I saw it.
A door.
Thank God.
I flew at it, for once glad that the senator was so insecure about his height, because I would be much slower in heels. And, I guess, I had to thank my mother’s side of the family for my long, athletic legs too as I flew through the door and into an empty hallway lined in nothing but lockers, minus the deadbolts that would be there during the school year.
As I ran, I silently wished for once that I was one of those petite, dainty women. The kind who could save themselves by slipping around a corner, climbing into an open locker, and just waiting things out.
Alas, I was not that.
So all I could do was run, ever aware of the pounding of feet behind me, not exactly gaining, but keeping pace, making it so that if I slowed at all, tripped, or paused to try to open a door, he might catch up to me.
I took a turn down the hall, seeing nothing at the end of my path but a staircase moving up.
My thighs started to burn, but I was safe if I kept moving, kept pace ahead of him.
Unless he had a gun.
A whimper rising up in my throat, I veered closer to the side of the hallway, hand slapping down on door handles as I went, but finding none that opened.
There was literally nowhere to hide.
I pushed myself faster, chancing a look over my shoulder, seeing my attacker losing a little steam.
He was bigger. Taller. Wider. Slower.
Saying a silent prayer that I wasn’t making a painfully stupid move, I threw my arms out into the stairwell door, then made my way up, thanking myself for the many hours spent on a stair climbing machine at the gym in an attempt to get one of those high, round butts that looked really good in tight workout pants like the influencers I saw all over social media.
Because I flew up those stairs, my heartbeat increasing, but not enough to slow me down.
And in the big, empty space of the enclosed stairwell, all I heard below me was panting as I made it to the top, charged through another door, then down a hall before my attacker could even get up the stairs.
The doors were frustratingly locked up here as well.
All except the one to the library. Since it didn’t have a door, just an open, welcoming doorway.
Figuring it was better than being out in the open, I ran in, rushing through the lines of books, trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hide.
Then, like someone was actually answering my prayers, I saw it.
Behind the circulation desk was an open door.
I didn’t stop to think.
Because it was a room.
One without windows.