Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 933(@200wpm)___ 746(@250wpm)___ 622(@300wpm)
Amos didn’t make eye contact, but he did shrug.
I caught Mr. Rhodes’s gaze and lifted my eyebrows as I smiled at him. His stoic expression didn’t change at all, but I was pretty sure his eyes widened just a little, tiny bit.
Amos, either not wanting to be the center of conversation anymore or in a talkative mood, placed his hand on the back of his dad’s chair and ran his fingernails along the top of it, focused on that as he asked, “Are you… doing another hike?”
“I think I’m going to do this river trail next.”
The boy’s gaze flicked up. “Where at?”
“The Piedra River.” It was arguably the most popular one in the area. I tapped the tips of my fingers against the vase. “I’ll get out of your hair. Thank you again for tonight, Mr. Rhodes. Keep feeling better, Amos. Have a good night.” I gave them one more wave and headed out, neither one of them following to lock up behind me.
It was only eight, and I wasn’t really tired yet, but I took a shower, flipped off the lights, and climbed into bed with a drink, thinking about the damn trail Mr. Rhodes brought up earlier.
The one my mom disappeared on.
The one that killed her.
At least we were pretty sure that was where she had gone. One of the witnesses that the police were able to find had claimed that they’d passed her on the trail when they’d been heading out and she’d been going up. They had said that she’d looked fine, that she’d smiled and asked how they were doing.
They were the last people to ever see her.
This tiny, bitter ache stretched across my heart, and I had to release a deep, deep breath.
She hadn’t left me, I reminded myself for about the millionth time over the last twenty years. I had never cared what anyone had tried to say or hint at. She hadn’t left me on purpose.
After a moment, I pulled up my tablet and started a movie I’d downloaded the day before, and I watched it distractedly, snuggling under the single sheet I slept under. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I woke up with the tablet on my chest and with this intense urge to pee.
Usually, I tried to stop drinking fluids a couple hours before bed so that I wouldn’t have to wake up; I had this fear of peeing myself even though that hadn’t happened in like thirty years. But I’d sucked down a strawberry soda while I’d watched my movie.
Now, waking up in the pitch-black studio apartment, I groaned at the pressure on my bladder and rolled up to sitting.
It took me a second to reach around and find my phone plugged in under my pillow. I yawned as I took it off and tapped at the screen as I stood up, turning on the flashlight feature to get into the bathroom. I stumbled in on another yawn, not turning on the light so that I wouldn’t wake myself up, and used it, peeing what felt like a gallon out, then washing my hands.
I was yawning all the way back, blinking at the faint light of the microwave’s clock and adjusting to the moonlight that came in through the windows that were constantly cracked.
And that was when I felt the whoosh over my head.
I yawned again, confused, and lifted my hand, trying to cast the beam of light from my phone upward.
Out of the corner of my eye, something flew.
I ducked.
The flying thing did a turn in flight and came right fucking at me.
I screamed as I threw myself to the ground and, swear to God on my life, felt it go inches above my head.
Right beside the bed, I yanked on the thin blanket I kept by my feet because it was too warm to cover myself completely with it and covered my head as I blinked up and tried to look for what I was pretty sure was a bat because a fucking bird couldn’t be that fast.
Could it? Could one have snuck in while I’d opened and closed the door? Wouldn’t I have noticed? There was a screen on the window, so it couldn’t have gotten in through there.
I crawled toward the wall where the light switch was on my hands and knees. “What the hell?” I liked to think I said but was pretty sure I shrieked as I lifted my hand just enough to feel the switch and flip it, the overhead lights illuminating the living room.
Confirming my worst nightmare.
Yeah, it was a fucking bat swooping.
“What the fuck!” I pressed my back even more against the wall.
What kind of bullshit was this?
Had I been sleeping in this damn room with it every night? Had he been landing on my face? Pooping on me? What did bat poop even look like? I’d seen some dark shapes on the floor, but I’d assumed they were mud off my shoes.