Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Grabbing the scissors, I start cutting nipple holes in every single shirt he owns before turning all his pants into ribbons. His boxers get a dick hole cut out of them for extra easy access, and I slice his socks straight down the middle, so his feet will look like a peeled banana if he tries to put them on. But it’s the designer suits that really get me hard.
I send a silent prayer of forgiveness to the Armani and Hugo Boss gods before hacking away at every last suit Zade owns. Once I’m done, I simply close the door, hoping to whoever exists above that I’m here to witness the look on his stupid face when he comes in here looking for a change of clothes.
I consider going to town on his bed with the scissors before realizing just how much that would affect me too. So instead, I grab the sharpie and start jotting down every insult I can possibly think of in big bold letters across his walls and furniture.
Asshole. Prick. Murderer. Bastard. Raging cunt. Jackoff. Pussy. Assbag. Douchebag. Shit slinger.
The list goes on and on until every name under the sun decorates his room and my wrist begins to ache. Only then do I crawl back into bed with my drawing pad and charcoal to let off steam with my art.
My mind jumps between two drawings, the two things that have haunted my mind for the last few days—the dirty cell, and the brutal image of Zade’s hand plunging through my chest.
I work on them for hours, getting charcoal everywhere, all over my hands and legs and smudged across my face. I’m just about to start on the detail of Zade’s hand clutching my beating heart when a soft knock sounds at the door.
My body freezes and my head snaps up as the door slowly opens. I hate how on edge these assholes have me. Sawyer’s face appears in the doorway, and I let out a silent breath of relief, trying to mask it as best I can.
“We got takeou—Oooooh, shit,” he says, cutting himself off as he glances around Zade’s room at the new and improved wall designs. He steps deeper into the room, making sure to glance over every wall, really taking it in. “Fuck, this is going to get under Zade’s skin in the worst way. He likes his home in order and this . . .”
“This is fucking great.”
“Hell yeah, it is,” Sawyer commends. “You know, I really like how you’ve switched fonts with every insult. It really keeps it interesting.”
“Why, thank you,” I say, grabbing Zade’s pillow and using it to rub the charcoal off my fingers before getting up, my stomach grumbling at the mention of takeout. “Tomorrow I’m printing off pictures of men’s hairy assholes, but only ones with little bits of shit flakes caught in the ass pubes, and I’ll redecorate the walls in the home gym.”
“No,” Sawyer breathes, his eyes wide. “Anywhere but the home gym. I can’t be looking at hairy assholes while I’m working up a sweat. That’s just not right.”
“Take it up with Zade,” I tell him, walking to the door. “He wanted to be petty, so I’m giving him petty. This is all on him. Besides, I’ve only got twenty-eight days to live, remember? Shouldn’t I be allowed to live what little time I have left in the way I want? Or do you assholes plan on taking my happiness too?”
Sawyer lets out a heavy sigh before reaching out and gripping my elbow, pulling me back to him in the quiet hallway. He steps into me, pressing my back up against the wall before tilting my chin to meet my heavy stare. “Surely you know if there were a way to save you, I would.”
“How could I possibly know that?” I question, pressing my hand to his wide chest and forcing him back a step. “The four of you have lied to me at every turn. You’ve worked your way into my life and between my legs with nothing but putrid lies, and because of that, I can’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth. You’ve broken me, Sawyer. All of you have. But that’s beside the point. Down in that cell, I called in my favors. I asked you to save me, and you told me you were a man of your word.”
His face falls, and it’s clear when I asked him to save me, he thought I was referring to saving me from Empire’s prison, not saving me from becoming Zade’s sacrificial lamb. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful the guys got me out of that cell, but I wouldn’t waste my favors on something that was already guaranteed. Besides, why would Zade offer me a favor if he didn’t want me to try and save myself?