Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
It might have been only a flicker of… that something… in her eyes as she stared at me, but it was enough. Enough to make me want more. Of her. From her.
Everything. I needed to know everything about her—what she liked, what made her smile, what she felt like, what made her scream. The need filled me instantly, aggressively. Violently.
I needed to figure out what in the fuck I was experiencing.
Was this something I could control? Or would this consume me the way the need for death did? But I knew what I had to do to figure out what the hell was going on with me.
Just like the prey who just hurried out the door, I’d stalk her, follow her, and watch her every move. I’d know everything there was to know about her because there was no other option for me. This need was already taking over my every thought.
She would soon be my next target. She’d soon be my next victim.
But what confused me was… I didn't think I wanted to kill her.
Either way, she’d be a new tick mark on my scorecard. But maybe in a new column of her own.
3
ISLA
Ialways controlled myself. It came naturally, but it was also for survival. In this shitty world I lived in, starting crap with someone could get a person killed.
Dammit, I thought, taking a breather in the alley at the back of the diner. This might actually get me fired.
I could handle rude customers, handle the long hours, and my douchebag of a boss. I’d been doing it for years. I dealt with assholes daily, smiling through the frustration of it all, because I needed this job.
But tonight...something in me snapped. I hadn’t even given it a thought. I just reacted, and before I knew it, I felt all that anger rise to the surface as my hand connected with the pig’s face.
And God… that had felt incredible.
I leaned back against the cold brick wall, closing my eyes and trying to steady my breathing. The world around me was dark and quiet—literally and figuratively.
City life wasn’t for everyone. You had to be built a certain way to live in the slums covered in dirt and grime.
The wind rushed through the narrow passage, carrying the faint smell of garbage from the dumpster a few feet away. God… my life was filthy in so many ways.
I lifted a hand and undid my messy bun before running my fingers through the strands, finger-combing them. My scalp throbbed where I’d tied the ponytail holder too tight, and it had finally gotten to me, giving me a headache.
The backdoor opened, and the light from inside cut into the darkness of the alley. Dale, the cook for tonight, came out and immediately lodged the door open with an old brick lying on the ground. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the doorway and lit up a cigarette, staring at me.
“Lyle’s gonna fire you for this,” he stated matter-of-factly.
I didn’t respond verbally, just nodded and then stared up at the sky. Dale and I got along. He kept the grabby fuckers at bay most of the time but not tonight because I’d taken matters into my own hands. And he spoke the truth right now.
I didn’t care about the diner. And I sure as hell didn’t care about Lyle. But I cared about this fucking job because it wasn’t like this shitty city offered anything else one would consider “respectable.”
This place—the city and the businesses within it—took advantage of people like me, people who worked for tips, people who couldn't move away and find anything better because the paycheck barely covered rent. Much less anything left over to save up.
People who had no one else to lean on and relied on pennies on the dollar to survive.
I pushed off the wall, shoving my hands into my apron pockets, and started walking down the alley.
“Where are you going?” Dale called out, but I could tell in his voice that he already knew I was leaving and didn’t give a fuck.
I should have felt bad for leaving him high and dry, but there had only been one customer left before I took a breather, and Dale wouldn't be shy—he’d lock up and say fuck this place, too.
The lone streetlight at the end of the alleyway flickered, casting a weak, yellow glow onto the cracked pavement. It was early enough that the sun wasn’t up yet, but within the next hour, it would make the sky a hazy shade of pink and orange.
I should have gone home, but that was the last place I wanted to be. So I just walked. I needed to move, to get away from the diner, the frustration of the moment, and everything else that came with being in a shitty situation.