Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59950 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
What he doesn’t realize, in his rush, is that he forgot to inject me with the drugs.
Which means I’m going to get some of my strength back.
22 – Serenity
He doesn’t come back.
Not for an entire day.
Which works in my favor because the drugs mostly wear off, and I’m finally able to stand. The first thing I do is rewrap my foot. It looks like it’s growing infected, and the redness around my stubbed toe is terrifying, but I can’t think about that now. I can only keep it covered and pray I get out of here before I lose more than just my toe.
I manage to move my body slowly around the room, looking at every inch of it, finding anything I can to use if needed. That doesn’t amount to much, except for an old rusty pipe that I have to tug off the wall, and a few screws. Still, a good stab from this pipe would cause some damage, right? I mean, that is if it doesn’t break before it penetrates the skin, it’s that frail.
It's better than nothing.
I plan my next move, keeping my last bit of water for when I absolutely need it. I should probably use it to wash my toe, but I don’t want to risk dying because I run out, so for now, I’ll let it be. Moving only brings the pain on; as my blood begins to flow properly again, my toe throbs. Take away the drugs, and my body is slowly but surely feeling everything again.
My face hurts, my body is stiff, and the pounding radiating through my foot is nearly enough for me to beg for the blissful nothingness those drugs bring.
After pacing until I’m exhausted, I lie back down and place my hands under my cheeks, closing my eyes. It’s hard to sleep now that I’m in so much pain, but my body is also so depleted of everything good that it has nothing left, and, slowly, my eyes flutter closed, and I fall into a fitful sleep.
I’m woken when the door opens.
I open my eyes, jerking awake, and then I rub them frantically, trying to focus as I pray that it isn’t Hound.
It’s not.
It’s him again.
I don’t even know his name.
He has another bottle of water and a sandwich, as well as that needle full of whatever it is they have been injecting me with.
I almost beg him for it.
Almost.
“I know he’s a monster.”
I blink, shocked by his words.
I sit up, meeting his gaze.
“He’s the only one that can help me. I’m in a lot of trouble. All I have to do is help him and I’m free of that trouble. But if you think I’m here because I want to be ...”
“We can help you, too,” I say, quickly. “Jackson will happily help you if you get me out of here.”
He frowns, like he just doesn’t believe it to be possible.
“Hound would kill me.”
“Not if he can’t ...” I whisper. “I’m not just telling you what I want to hear. I grew up in that club. I know exactly what they are like. Now I am with a club that cares, and I know they’ll help you.”
“It’s too much of a risk,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t.”
“Please, I have a family. He will kill me.”
He looks away, his fists clenching.
“Tell me your name,” I say, trying not to sound desperate.
“Walker.”
“I’m Serenity, but you already know that. I’m Hogan’s daughter, and I grew up surrounded by abuse, some of that came from your father. I got out, and I’m free now. You can be, too.”
“He’ll kill me,” Walker grinds out through his teeth. “When he was in prison, I wasn’t afraid of him, but now ...”
“I can help you. I promise you. Please. Let me prove it. Let me make a call.”
Walker hesitates. He’s torn, I can see it.
Shaking his head, he backs toward the door.
“Walker, please,” I beg. “Please, just let me call Jackson.”
“I can’t.” He shakes his head, harder now. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
With that, he drops the food and water by the door and leaves, once again.
I bury my face in my hands and cry.
God damnit.
THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and I jerk awake, staring into the darkness, trying to adjust my eyes as my brain processes what's happening. The pitch-black room is so deep that I can't tell if I'm awake or dreaming. When a light flickers on, I know for sure that I'm awake—and I'm not alone.
I rub my eyes, my body aching as I push up into a sitting position. Walker is pacing the room. I'm not entirely sure why he's here or what he's doing, but when he turns to face me, his face is black and blue. Dried blood coats his lips, and one of his eyes is completely closed.