Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Damn, that day on the island.
When all I had was a pair of running shoes.
I put up a damned good fight—in my mind, at least—but I ultimately lost.
“Get up,” Pasty Guy grits out.
“No.”
“I said get up, you bitch.”
Why should I give him what he wants? He’ll find me anyway. He will eventually hunt me down, do what he wants to me. He’s already caught me. Why the hell does he want me to run again?
It’s the thrill of the chase.
But he already caught me, so I’m a little confused.
And I don’t fucking care. He’s going to do what he’s going to do.
“Get up and run,” he says again, “or you’ll wish you had.”
My breathing has finally returned to normal. I could get up. I have renewed energy, and endorphins are coursing through me. I could get up, and I could run.
But that would be doing what he wants.
“They told me you were worth it,” he says. “They told me you were a challenge. So far? You’re nothing more than the rest of them.”
This is a man who gets off on a challenge. He may be pasty white and disgusting, but he is all muscle.
“Get the fuck up, and make me work for it, bitch. Show me what you’ve got.”
But I don’t want to give him what he wants. This is the only fight I have in me. He wants me to run? If I do what he demands, I’m acquiescing.
I’m so tired of acquiescing.
I’m a fighter. I want to fight. With everything inside me, I want to rise and run like hell. But that’s what he wants.
I have to go against my instincts now.
I have to refuse to fight.
“No,” I say.
His fist meets my cheek in a dull punch. A sharp pain at first, and then a dull ache. That’s how it always happens. The pain is so intense you think you may die at first, but then…just a simple ache.
“There’ll be more of that if you don’t get up and run.”
There will be more of that anyway. I’ve been here a while. I know the drill. Does he think I’m stupid?
“I’ll put you in the fucking hospital,” he says.
He’ll probably do that anyway. Is that supposed to scare me?
I repeat my thoughts. “Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Sure as hell should, bitch.”
“Why? Do you think there’s anything you can do to me that someone else already hasn’t? I doubt your ideas are that unique.”
“You’d be surprised.”
I wince as another blow comes to my head. First the sharp pain, and within seconds, the ache. I can live with the ache. I kind of always ache now.
A ring of light crosses the path of my vision.
Nothing new there. A blow to the head does that to me. I found that out on the volleyball court one time when I was hit on the head by a ball and it knocked me off balance. Then I hit my head on the floor of the court.
Ring of light city.
“Get up,” Pasty Guy says again, his voice lower this time.
Rage radiates from him. I can almost see it turning the ring of light red around me.
Pasty white he may be. Masked he may be. But he is still the devil.
I could get up.
I could rise and run with renewed energy. It would be easy.
But I don’t. I lie there.
“I can make you get up,” he says. “I can bring people in here to force you to stand up.”
“Do it. You know what that means? It means you can’t handle me alone.” It takes effort but I hock a wad of saliva and spit it in his face.
A blow to my head, and then another.
I lose consciousness.
And it’s a good thing I do, because later, when I wake up?
I wish I were dead.
“You okay, Aspen?” Buck’s voice from the front seat.
“Yeah. Fine.” I clear my throat.
“You got quiet back there.”
“I don’t have anything to say to this bitch.”
“That’s all right,” Buck says. “We’ll get the whole story soon enough.”
He pulls up to a remote area in the desert. A small shack stands there.
And then—
I gasp. My father. My father’s truck.
“Buck, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything, baby. He’s here of his own volition.”
“How did he know to come here?”
Buck doesn’t answer.
Knots tangle in my stomach. I’m both fearful and angry. Angry at Buck for bringing my father into this, and fear for both of them. “How could you?” I say.
No response from Buck. He simply pulls the car as close as he can, turns off the engine, gets out, and opens the back door, pulling Nancy out.
I scramble out the other side while my father leaves his vehicle.
I want to run to him. I want to beg him to go away. But I can’t. I don’t want to make any noise, because I don’t know what waits for us inside that little house.