Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
"We all made it," Carol said with a mixture of relief and disbelief evident on her face.
"Barely," panted the older man, still catching his breath.
Ciaran moved up next to Lana and gently brushed a few stray hairs out of her face before addressing us as a whole.
“Everyone ready to move?”
“Well, I don’t really appreciate the scenery here,” Brody answered.
Maverick held his arms up and examined them, sniffing softly. “This isn’t shit, is it?”
“No?” Lana looked down at her hands. “At least, I hope not.”
Mel frowned at him. “Why would you smell it?”
“How did you get it all over you?” Hayven followed up.
He was covered more than any of us, so much so his tattoos were almost concealed all the way up to the bulkier part of his arms. He lowered his wrists and looked at them. “I was a little busy trying not to get my ass eaten alive. Getting covered in gator shit was the least of my concerns.”
“It’s not…it’s not that,” Carol interjected with a tinge of exasperation.
“Even if it is, we’re gonna have to deal with it. We need to get out of here.”
We took a moment to gather our bearings before pushing through the door and emerging onto a sprawling grassy field.
The cityscape could be seen in the distance, below us due to the incline of the hill. The twinkling lights of the city were mesmerizing, especially the clock tower standing tall with its illuminated face. The moon shone above, casting a silvery glow over the illusion of a peaceful setting.
I knew there were others down there going through their own versions of hell, all of us trapped in the Devil’s Playground. It was a somber thought.
"This reminds me of those cabins we woke up in," Lana said to Dion as she looked around.
"I think it's similar," he commented, scanning the horizon. “Minus being in the woods and you trying to swing on me.”
She grinned at him. “But look at us now, on the fast track to being the best of friends.”
“For sure. You can count on me not to let you down.” He said it jokingly, but I could tell he meant that.
She smiled at him and then looked across the field. I wasn’t sure if she understood he’d just hinted at something else, or still truly had no clue. She was the first to find the photos of us all together, so she at the very least knew we had some kind of history with these people. How much of it she had knowledge of was the more crucial question. It was frustrating not knowing. She and Mel were so good at pretending. I could only hope I was doing half as good a job. I wanted to talk to my best friends without cameras or an audience and that included this group of guys because.
"At least we have some fresh air now," Mel chimed in, changing the subject.
“Your hand alright?” The older man suddenly asked.
"Oh, yeah. It's fine," I reassured him.
"The wall got you too?" Hayven asked, coming over to inspect my hand as well.
"What do you mean 'too'?" Charon questioned, gently pulling her away from me.
“Just my hand.”
"It scratched my thigh, but it's nothing major," she replied nonchalantly, ignoring his concern.
"It's not acceptable for any of us to bleed," Ky stated firmly, turning my attention back to him with a gentle touch on my chin.
“You hear that, puppet?”
“I’m not deaf, Ciaran,” Lana retorted dryly.
Mel looked between the four of us and shook her head. "I honestly don't know how you two deal with them.” She started walking across the field, taking Dion with her.
"Aw. Are you feeling lonesome? We can change that, Mellie," Maverick called after her as he followed along with Brody.
"I'll pass, and don't call me that."
Maverick caught up to Mel, and they continued their conversation in hushed tones. I strained to hear what they were saying but couldn't make out the words. My mind wandered, wondering if anything had ever happened between them. I couldn't recall who Mel had been close to in that way, or if she had been close to anyone at all. She preferred solitude unless Lana and I were around, guarding her heart with a fortress stronger than Fort Knox.
I blamed her mother for that. Unlike Lana's mom, Pandora, who had a twisted kind of love for her children, and my own mother who was overprotective at times, Mel's mother didn't even seem to like her. It didn't matter that Mel excelled at everything and constantly tried to be someone she wasn't all for a woman who could barely spare her a single word of praise; her mother just didn't care.
Mel had cried about it once. We were twelve, but then she never did it again. I still vividly remembered the little girl who just wanted to be seen, but her father was too absorbed in his affairs and power-hungry schemes to see anything other than a tool for advancement. Lana joked that Mel was a pessimist, but we both knew better. She was like an open wound that never got the chance to heal, yet she kept pretending that it didn't hurt.