Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1047(@200wpm)___ 838(@250wpm)___ 698(@300wpm)
Drawing my knees in to my chest, I tucked my arms in and set my chin on them.
A few minutes had to have passed before he said roughly, “Eat more of the bar. I want to rest… and can’t when your stomach… is making a racket.”
I nodded at him but didn’t move.
“Now,” the bossy bitch said.
I frowned at him. “I will in a second.”
“You will… when I tell you to.”
Really? “Do people usually do what you tell them to?”
He didn’t even think about it. “Yes.”
The snort that shot out of my nose surprised me, in pain and entertainment.
Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any more ridiculous, I was proven wrong. I was arguing with The Defender.
He gave me a long look before saying, “That’s not funny.”
“It kind of is.”
“It’s not.”
“It is, but it’s okay. Not everyone has a sense of humor. It’s no big deal.” I was doing this. My balls were regaining their size and shape, I guess.
His side-look would have killed me if he had lasers that could shoot out of his eyes. Luckily that was The Centurion. From the expression he was making, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was wishing he did.
“I have… a sense of humor,” he tried to claim, actually looking and sounding serious.
I pressed my lips together. “If you say so.”
“I do,” he insisted.
“O-kay.”
That got me an icy glare. “I don’t like… your tone of voice.”
I really got way too much of a kick out of this. “I don’t really like yours either, if I’m going to be honest.” I paused. “You probably think Halloween is a comedy.”
There went another glare. “I watch comedies.”
I looked at him.
“When I have time.”
I kept looking at him.
His jaw worked. “It’s not often… what with saving you idiots from yourselves five times a day.”
It took everything in me not to scoff at his still-perfect Portuguese. “You should really look into a job change with that kind of attitude.”
He shot another burning look my way. “Do you… know what I am? Who I am?”
“I know. I’ve fed you by hand while making airplane noises. Almost broke my back helping move you. I almost went bankrupt feeding you. Do I need to keep going or…?”
I got the longest side-eye in the history of side-eyes.
Then, then, The Defender tore his gaze away, going back to being grouchy. “I’m going to rest. Leave me one of the bars and eat the rest.”
And before I could open my mouth to argue with him more, he was out.
Again.
Leaving me with my thoughts. And all my fears. And with my assumptions about why he was finally talking to me.
Then I took a long look around the empty, quiet room, and I sighed.
CHAPTER
TEN
I was bored out of my fucking mind.
And hungry.
I would have thought I’d be prepared to be locked into a smallish room with another person because I had experience being at home, alone, but I was so wrong. At home, I could still go outside. I had the internet. Television. Work. Chores. Projects. Arts and crafts. Books.
I had something to do, even if I was bored there too. But this was a different kind of boredom.
This one felt straight from hell.
But in those hours of staring blankly at the walls and wishing I could sleep more to make the time go by faster, I thought about stuff.
Some of those thoughts revolved around how I was jealous the superbeing across the room managed to sleep so much. Or at least pretended to. Most of my thoughts were mean, ugly ones that had me questioning what kind of parents would put their children at risk like mine had; it wouldn’t be the first time I’d pondered that. A few centered around the choices my grandparents had made too.
When I got tired of that, I stared at The Defender a lot because it wasn’t like there was much else to do. There weren’t tiles on the walls to count. Or ants. There wasn’t anything to focus on.
And it was so, so cold.
I spent a lot of time focusing on my hands, counting the fine lines on each of my fingers. Wondering if that freckle had always been there. Trying to bite off the small callus I had on my palm from the garden spade. I’d hummed quietly under my breath. I had made up a lot of scenarios in my head about how we could get out of here. I thought about what I would have to do if we ever did get out of here.
I cried a couple times too.
For the most part, they were tiny tears that had me holding my breath to keep from making a sound. Tears for the home I no longer had, for the things I’d lost, and especially for the possibility that this place would be the end of me.