Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Even though I've heard other employees gossiping about his crush on me for years, he's never once been inappropriate. He hasn't asked me out either, which is probably for the best. I'm in no place to date right now, and I would feel bad turning him down.
"I'm just glad you're safe, Georgie. Look, if it will make you feel better... I wanted to offer to walk you to your car after work."
"That's really thoughtful, Bill." I manage a weak smile. "You're right, it would make me feel better. I might take you up on that offer."
"Please do." His smile tells me I've said the right thing, and we go our separate ways when we reach the ER, him being pulled away to change some bandages, and me, to deal with a shooting victim.
I work relentlessly through my double shift, only taking ten minutes off to grab a sandwich at the cafeteria. I need the distraction badly, and I'm grateful to my body for switching on the autopilot. I can work without thinking – there's so much to do, I barely have time to remember what happened last night.
When my double shift is finally over, it's the middle of the night. I take Bill up on his offer and he walks me to my Honda parked in the lot in front of the hospital. He's nothing but a gentleman, and I'm grateful that he isn't trying to take advantage of my mental state when I'm vulnerable.
"I can do this every night," he says as I unlock my crappy old car.
"That would make me feel a lot safer," I reply with a soft smile. "Thank you, Bill."
We say our goodbyes and I drive home in silence, my heart starting to pound the closer I get to home. My apartment has always been a safe haven, and if nothing else, I have my cats there to keep me company.
I walk into the apartment to the cats' protests and feed them right away, petting their soft fur. I feel so bad leaving them when I have to work double shifts, so I open the balcony door so they can watch the outside world. I lie down on the couch with my favorite mug filled with hot peppermint tea, and try to unwind a little, though it seems an impossible task. My mind keeps going back to Dr. Martin and the horrible way he ended up leaving this world.
When I reach for my fluffy blanket, I find it folded over the chair instead of the sofa. Weird. I could have sworn I left it on the sofa, like I always do. I get up to collect it, and when I do, I get the strange feeling that something's off.
I can't quite put my finger on it. It's as if some things have been moved, taken from their place and then carefully placed back. The differences are subtle – my calendar slightly askew on the fridge door, the picture frame with me, Dinah and Katya turned the wrong way. Fear and panic seep through my pores as I search for more signs that someone's been in here. But nothing is missing. It's just the little differences in how things are positioned.
I try to calm down by telling myself it's nothing, though I don't quite manage to convince myself.
After watching an episode of my favorite TV show, I head to the bathroom and draw myself a long, hot bath. As I soak in the comfort of the rose-scented bubbles, I allow myself to relax. Nobody's going to hurt me. Nobody is out to get me. I'm just shaken because of what happened with Dr. Martin, but even that was just a freakish, unplanned robbery. I got off lucky. I need to remember that.
I close my eyes for a long moment, allowing myself to relax in the comfort of the tub. When my eyes fly open again, they zero in on something on the tile floor, a small, black dot on the otherwise spotless white tile.
It's a spider.
My body moves of its own accord, panicking. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub and my teeth begin to chatter as I stare at the harmless creature in the middle of the bathroom. I'm suddenly terrified, frozen to the spot. I can't even call out for help. My heart is fucking pounding. My head is all over the place. The longer I look at that fucking spider, the more I want to scream.
A memory assaults my mind. A woman, reaching out for me, a scream tearing itself from her lips as she tries to grab hold of me. Then, a bullet burying itself in her chest from behind. Blood blooming on her white blouse, the stain getting bigger and bigger.
The sound of screaming fills my head, a memory of the past I've long tried to leave behind. The deja-vu is so intense I choke on my own breath, my eyes filling with tears I don't understand.