Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Despite the weakness in my body and the emotions dripping from my heart, I found myself smiling at his strange use of words. Perhaps he found it amusing too—I was convinced that under his handsome dark demeanor, I saw the tug of a smile.
A yawn tore from my mouth, and tiredness crashed into me at full force. “You need sleep,” AK said. I completely agreed. “Sleep as much as you can over the next couple of days. If you sleep you won’t feel as bad.”
“You have dealt with this before?” I asked, and by the subtle flinch of his head, I knew it was true. His expression said it all.
I left AK by the fire. As I entered the house, I glanced through the kitchen window at the mysterious man that had somehow become my compass in this outside world.
His body slumped in his chair, and his head was in his hands. For a minute, I thought I saw his shoulders shaking as though he were breaking apart into tears. But I was sure it was just the trick of the light. AK was a strong man with, I believed, a beautiful heart. I was sure nothing could make him crumble. I wished I had a morsel of his strength.
In minutes, I was in my bed and drifting to sleep. My burdens felt slightly lighter somehow. And there was only one man to thank for that: the devil’s man with angel eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Phebe
I woke to the now-familiar sounds of birds chirping and the breeze rustling through the leaves. I braced myself for the sickness, for the exhaustion I had felt every day since we had arrived, but I smiled in relief when I felt only muted tones of those pains today.
I had been sleeping on and off for two days. I slept, ate, showered, then slept again. I had purged more than I ever thought possible, and slowly, I began to feel better. I breathed more easily, walked more easily, talked more easily. Everything just felt . . . easier. The weight in my chest a little easier to bear.
I showered and dressed in my favorite one of the dresses AK had packed for me; it was olive green. I ran a comb though my hair, then made my way outside, where I knew AK would be. Since our arrival, he had spent most of his time outside. It was as though he could not stand to be inside this home. Sometimes, when I had awoken to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I had seen him outside, awake in a chair by the fire pit. Not sleeping again.
He was sitting at a table at the side of the house. A large rusty trunk sat beside him, and several pieces of black metal and plastic were strewn about the tabletop. His hair was pulled back off his face and tied back in a bun. I could not recall ever seeing his face so clearly before.
His concentration was fully on the task as he cleaned the pieces in front of him with excruciatingly meticulous detail. I walked to where he sat and saw him flicker his brown eyes to me. “You look better,” he said and carried on cleaning the small, fat piece of metal in his hands.
“I feel better.” I looked down at the worn trunk at his side. It was full to the brim with shapes I thought I recognized. A thick layer of dust lay over each one.
“Are those guns?” I asked in confusion, wondering why he owned so many.
AK stopped cleaning, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah.”
“They look old,” I said, wanting him to speak, needing some form of conversation. He had been so quiet and subdued since we arrived here. I did not know him that well, but I sensed that he was not usually this quiet.
AK shrugged. “’Bout fifteen to twenty years old. Some are newer, ’bout seven years.” His expression was tight, as were his muscles. Each one was corded and strained. He was dressed in a black tank and dark jeans. As he recommenced cleaning, I allowed my eyes to scan over his skin. His tattoos were many, boasting many different images. A large depiction of a gun, not too dissimilar to the one he was cleaning, stood out most.
“You like guns?”
AK’s lip hooked up at the corner. “Could say that.”
“Why is that amusing?”
AK laid down the final piece of metal he was cleaning, and then, at a breathtaking speed, proceeded to join all the pieces together. His gaze was intent on his task, his lips pursed. Even when a strand of hair fell from his bun he was not distracted. In what felt like seconds, the random metal fragments that had once littered the tabletop had morphed into a gun. AK pulled something on the top of the device, and it clicked into place. He placed it down on the table and sat back, sighing deeply.