Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
And it kinda works.
But then again, it kinda doesn’t. Because the problem is that I’m on the run—basically alone, but not alone, either. And there is nothing in front of me but an empty mountain road. No radio stations are coming in. And there’s no music in cars anymore. Even I’m old enough to remember when people kept CD’s in the car. But now, everyone keeps the music on their phones and I have no fucking idea where my purse is, let alone my phone.
So internal thoughts are all I have to keep me company.
I run the entire last week through my head over and over again. Mostly skipping the part where Ryet and I met and had our fun banter and uninhibited sex because I feel like those two days don’t count anymore. It was a setup, that’s all.
Most of my thoughts are consumed with Paul. Where is he? Is he dead? Did he find a way out? Is he coming for us?
I don’t know.
About three hours into the drive Ryet begins to growl. I stiffen, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white, but then I remember the blood. I pull over for a minute, put the truck in park, and shake him until he wakes up. His eyes are bright red and he’s snarling at me with those new teeth of his. And the only thing I can think about—as I push the half-empty bag of blood up to his mouth—is that I made a huge mistake. And I should probably just open his door, kick him out into the ditch, and drive away.
I even picture myself doing this. Leaving him behind, driving to the nearest bus station, looking for the horse and rider, making them call Zusi for me, and going home. Putting all this behind me.
But I don’t have a home. The Guild was never my home. It was just a prison. The only reason it didn’t feel like a prison was because I was too stupid to see what was right in front of my face.
They didn’t even let me read the books.
But anyway. The real reason I don’t kick Ryet into the ditch and drive away is because I’m not sure he would die. I’m not sure he hasn’t passed that point of no return. In other words, I’m afraid he’ll come hunt me down. And he could do it now. Easily, I think. And I would have nowhere to run. I would have no one to protect me.
So I don’t kick him out. I just let him drink the bag of blood and pull back onto the road, thinking about heading south.
I eat junk food from gas stations and fill up the tank using a credit card that I find in the glove box, a business Platinum American Express card made out of some kind of metal with a corporation’s name on the bottom that I can’t pronounce because it’s just a collection of letters that aren’t a word. XILMX.
Zilamax? Who knows. Don’t care.
I know every transaction is traceable, but I don’t care about that either. There is no way we don’t get caught. No way at all. Right now I’m counting on the slim chance that Ryet will stabilize and… I don’t know. Save me, I guess. Put it all right.
It’s dumb. I’m his food.
I use the bathroom at the gas stations too and clean up a little. I do what I can to make myself feel normal in the five minutes I give myself to leave Ryet alone in the truck.
We ran out of blood bags a couple days ago so now, every few hours, I have to pull over somewhere and let him feed on me. And every time I do this, I hate him a little bit more.
But even if I could’ve kicked him out and left him behind back in the mountains, I know for sure I can’t do it now.
He’s changing. Right in front of me.
He goes long stretches of hours making no sound at all. And then he’ll start whimpering, then growling, and that’s how I know to stop.
I don’t want him to wake up. I will do anything to not see those eyes again. So I feed him until he’s full, and quiet, and I can talk myself into thinking I’m safe, and then I just keep driving. Going nowhere in particular. Just… driving.
On day eight I break down and buy a phone and data plan with the credit card. Then I book us an Airbnb for a night because I need a shower and a place to put Ryet while I shop for new clothes because this is all so gross, I’m starting to reconsider Lucia’s plan to kill myself so I can kill him too, and I’m still not sure I could do it.