Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 793(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
I carry on with my escape, even if the logical part of me knows that if I keep moving at this pace, I’ll eventually collapse and be easy prey.
If I want to preserve my energy, I have to hide—
A loud thud of footsteps rushes up from behind me and I screech to a halt, then whirl around.
My sporadic breathing fills the air, but the only thing in sight is trees.
Big, tall trees with their giant trunks and branches that resemble hungry predators' fangs.
I don’t stop to ponder the sound as I continue to sprint in the darkness.
In the forest.
In the middle of the night.
Only the moon offers any sort of light, and it’s shadowed by the thick clouds, camouflaged, absolutely distorted.
It’s also stained with the sound of my erratic breathing and the ghost-like steps of the one pursuing me.
Landon.
Though I probably shouldn’t call him that in this situation. He’s supposed to be a stranger right now.
A creature of the night.
A merciless monster.
A devil who’s come to collect my life.
The distinctive sound of feet slapping against the ground fills my ears. It’s the sound I’m making. A sound so deranged and haunted that I hear every crunch against the dirt, every pebble caught beneath my shoes.
It collides with my shattered inhales and nearly chokes my swelling lungs.
But that sound is nothing compared to the steps that appear and disappear, sometimes from behind me, other times from my left, right, and even in front of me.
It injects me with an abundance of adrenaline until I’m surviving on it. I have no doubt that if my level drops, I’ll turn into a shaky mess and fall to the ground.
The threat continues looming over me, getting closer and closer, playing a fucked-up game of hide-and-seek with my mind.
There’s no more powerful tool than mind games. Physical exertion pales in comparison to mental stimuli and that’s why manipulating, gaslighting, and abusing the mind have become the ultimate weapons in modern society.
It feels as if I’m observing a lesson from my psychology classes. Only, theory and practice are worlds apart.
I know that sealing my mind off would protect me, but actually accomplishing that under the current circumstances is next to impossible.
When I study my surroundings again, I realize I’m in a part of the forest I didn’t go to yesterday.
The trees appear taller, sharper, as if they have every intention of devouring me alive. The darkness hovers, lingers, and swallows my whole being.
The worst part? This is so far from the main house that there don’t seem to be any cameras around here.
A hushed sound comes from the right and I whirl in that direction, high alertness pulsing in my veins.
But the moment my face turns to the side, something grabs me from behind. By my hair.
The silver strands nearly rip from the roots as he shoves me toward the ground.
I don’t go down peacefully.
I have no idea what’s come over me, but the moment he clutches me, an overpowering aggressiveness floods me.
Usually, I wouldn’t want to be involved in any violent situations, or at least, I would look and see before considering any physical retaliation.
Not this time.
It could be the adrenaline or my need for survival. It could be the suppressed emotions of my helplessness. Whatever it is, I hold onto it and I claw at his fingers that are forcing me forward.
I kick and buck my whole body as an animal-like growl echoes in the air.
It’s mine, I realize as he successfully knocks me to the ground. I try to fall on my hands and knees, but I fail to release his fingers at the last second and I end up flat on my stomach.
The rough dirt smashes my breasts and whooshes the breath from my lungs. I still try to buck so I can turn over and somehow knee him in the balls.
I fight so hard that I forget this scene is my doing.
I fight so hard that I believe every molecule of survival instinct in me. Perhaps it’s because he’s using savage strength to grip me.
He’s not taking it easy.
No, he probably came here without any plans to be soft or politically correct.
He came here to invade and conquer.
This is the real thing. Him, uncut and with the sole purpose of inflicting pain.
His calm, deep breathing reverberates in the air and strikes me across the skin. His merciless grip is a promise, a preview of what he has in store for me.
The more I fight, the tighter he pulls on my hair, until I think he’ll rip it from the roots.
I arch my back, using the remnants of my energy to try and twist.
Then something heavy and unmovable lands on the middle of my back.
His knee.
I catch a glimpse of his black trousers in my peripheral vision, one knee on the ground and the other pushing against my back.