Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
“Yeah, this house is pretty creepy when it’s dark,” she giggles but immediately stops when Nathan glares at her again. “I should go,” she whispers and gives me a small smile.
“Yes. I believe you should,” Nathan bites out and her face falls.
“Tomorrow?” She looks confused and a little bit hurt.
“I’ll call you. Escort yourself out, I have to see to the fuse box.” Nathan’s tone is stern and unyielding. I want to slap him for her.
Shockingly she says nothing, she only scarpers away with her metaphorical tail between her legs.
“Do you have to be so mean?” I snap at my kind of brother in law. His eyes come to me, he only looks bored. “She was only trying to help.”
“She was trying to be nosy when she had no right to be.” He takes my arm in his hand and leads me out of the room, back into the creepy landing.
“I don’t want to go back downstairs.”
“Tough, I need you to hold the torch while I check the box.”
“Can’t blondie do it? She was eager to help.”
“No.”
“But…”
“I’m not leaving you on your own for another second. I don’t trust you not to start making that awful noise again.”
“Noise? You mean my screaming? You ripped the blanket off my head! I thought you were upstairs!” I defend myself but he doesn’t care.
“You were screaming before then Guinevere, what do you think made me come downstairs in the first place?”
I stop in my tracks, “I wasn’t screaming.”
“Yes you were.”
“No I wasn’t.” I know with one hundred percent certainty that I wasn’t screaming, why’s he lying? “And I didn’t hear any screaming from anywhere else. Maybe it was blondie.”
“Her name is Lorna and yes you’re right, maybe it was.” Ewww. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s referring to. Even though I referred to it first, it’s only natural that I feel grossed out by his confirmation.
“Nobody was screaming,” I return to my previous argument as he leads me into the kitchen and searches under the sink for something. “Why did you come downstairs?”
He doesn’t respond, he does however, find a large torch. “Come.”
“Oh no. No way… no… not a chance,” I back away from the door leading to the basement. “This is exactly what they do in horror movies.”
“The basement isn’t like basements in horror movies. It’s a gym. Come on,” he sighs and guides me towards the narrow steps. I inhale a deep breath and allow him to lead me down the staircase. The torch lights the way well enough but I’m still freaking out.
He’s right, this basement isn’t creepy like horror films, it holds a treadmill, some weights and a load of other work out equipment that I don’t know the name off. I follow close behind Nathan, my hand on his shoulder as he guides me to the far corner.
“Hold this,” he says and hands me the torch. I shine it on the box as he opens it and watch him flick a few switches. After a moment he sighs and takes a step back. “It’s a local power cut. We’ll just have to wait it out.”
“Can’t we go somewhere else?” I plead, handing him back the torch.
Another loud crack lights up the sky followed by the hideous rumbling.
In the glow from the torch I see him run his tongue over his lower lip, he seems to relent, “Fine. Come on.”
We rush up the stairs and quickly pull on our coats. He holds an umbrella up before taking me out into the harsh rain and helps me into his car. I rub my hands together in front of the heater as soon as he turns the key in the ignition, grateful he has a decent car that takes only seconds to heat up rather than the fifteen minutes it took in Caleb’s.
“Movie or food?” He asks and carefully reverses before setting the car straight and heading down the narrow drive.
“Movie?” I ask and another thought comes to mind. “Where’s blondie?”
“Her car has gone. She left while we were in the basement.”
“Oh. You were mean to her.”
His face gets tight and his eyes narrow, “It’s none of your business. Don’t try and make it so.”
“Sorry,” I mumble because he’s right. Still it doesn’t feel great knowing how rude he was and not being able to say anything about it.
“Accepted.”
Christ he’s such an arsehole sometimes.
The cinema is empty when we arrive, I’m shocked it’s even open. We had to drive for nearly an hour to get here and the rain is still pelting it down. We argue for a while over seeing an action movie versus a psychological thriller. He wins and we have to watch the thriller because he can’t stand action movies. Whatever. It does look good to be fair.
Apparently popcorn is a big no, no. Who goes to the cinema and doesn’t have popcorn? The only thing I’m allowed is a bottle of water. He’s paying so it’s not like I can complain. It’s awkward enough that I can’t afford things for myself and I feel guilty because of that. I do have some money in my account but I’m scared to spend it, I might need it. Who knows how long his generosity will last?