Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
But what if he’s just being nice to fool me, like Sexy Santa had? What could he gain from poisoning me, though? Unless it’s his thing to watch someone die a slow and painful death.
“I imagine that must be extraordinarily awkward,” I say with a nervous chuckle and stare at the marshmallows he tosses in from a cardboard packet. Could those be spiked as well? He didn’t put any in his own mug.
My mind flashes back to the moment the saw ripped into my dead abductor’s neck. I’ve seen so many photos of crime scenes, yet it can’t compare to the real life experience. The sudden smell of blood in the air, the awful sound of the blade as it ripped through meat and cartilage…
Maybe I can go another hour without eating after all?
As he passes me the hot mug, I wonder if he chose a burgundy shirt so blood doesn’t show on it as much.
“Let’s consider it a Christmas miracle,” he says with a smile and bumps his cup against mine. “My name is Nico, like, you know, Saint Nicholas. But no ‘h’. It will be a while until I work out exactly what to do with you, so it would be nice to get to know each other.”
I struggle to remain serious, because for all his prowess in remaining free over the years, this guy is utterly deranged. And unpredictable, and that means the next time I wake up, there might be a knife against my throat.
“Blake. And, uhm, my big brother must be worried sick about me,” I add to check his reaction.
“I’ll find out about that, but Blake… Sometimes life takes a turn, you know? A few years ago, I lost my grandfather, and he was the only family I had left. It wasn’t an easy transition, but I adjusted over time.”
Does he mean… I’ll be adjusting to living in a cell with no windows?
“You want to just keep me here on my own?” I ask in the most sullen voice I can muster.
“It’s all so fresh it’s hard to tell. I don’t believe in gifting pets for Christmas, but I could consider getting a puppy for you, if you think you won’t deal well with solitude.”
Is that even a question? I hate him so much already for restricting my freedom, for the abduction, for the farcical ‘treats’ meant to subdue me, but I’m still fighting back tears at the thought that this might be my life now. Stuck in some freak’s cellar.
“What kind of life is that?” Rips out of my chest as I step closer to the bars, pinning him with my gaze. “There’s no sugarcoating murder. Even if it’s just murder of the soul, and my soul is going to die in these conditions!”
But it’s as if he’s not hearing me at all. He cocks his head and stares into my eyes so intently my heart rises to my throat. I overdid it. I couldn’t stay nice, and he’s gonna kill me. Or leave me here alone for a week to ‘teach me a lesson’.
“‘There’s no sugarcoating murder’…” he repeats. “I could swear I knew your voice from somewhere! You’re Cryptic Boy Wonder.”
My blood might have just frozen over, and I want to deny it, to hide my interest in his work of blood and gore, but he’s already decided what to believe. And I’ve never been a good liar. He’s certainly going to kill me now, and make it his grandest spectacle to date, sending a message to every single person who ever spoke ill of him.
“I…”
Nico puts down his mug and reaches into my cell through the bars, extending his hand. I step back, afraid that he’s trying to grab me, but his smile widens.
“I am such a fan. I love that you cover the local cases. I know I’m the December highlight for a lot of true-crime aficionados, but it feels more genuine from you. And your voice? Ah.” Still keeping his hand in front of me like he wants me to… squeeze it (?), he pats his cheek as it darkens a little. Is he blushing? “I might have a bit of a crush on you. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable? I just figured that—I mean, your outfit…”
I couldn’t have been any more scared, because not only does this maniac know my voice enough to recognize it, but he’s also gay and has me in his clutches. Does that mean I’ll have to navigate his sexual interest in me on top of everything else I’m already dealing with? How could my life take such a rapid turn, and on a night meant to be my step into adult life and toward freedom?
“I… don’t know you yet,” I say, because it’s painfully obvious I’ll get nowhere without pandering to him. Even my ears feel hot when I think I might have to get close to him to get out of here. How close? Shaking his hand? Kissing him? More?