Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
It only works because the walkway is so narrow and without me stamping it down, it leans against the kitchen counter and the seating area table. It acts as a shelter, and it quickly stops the breeze from trickling in. Shivering, I pull the blankets around myself and soon, my body heat has the small space feeling a little more comfortable. I don’t fall back asleep, instead I lie there, listening to the howls of some animal coming from outside. Clenching my eyes closed, I try to figure out a way to get out of this mess.
I need to come up with something soon.
Time is running out.
I have a few tricks up my sleeve, starting with ambushing him when he comes in tomorrow, or whenever the hell he decides to return. If I’m careful, I can hit him with the leg I managed to take off the bed frame. One good hit is all I need, then I can run and find my way back. If that doesn’t work, I could always try the sexual side of things. Most men will fall for that, even the toughest of them. It’s like it’s built into their DNA to lose their thought when a woman is coming onto them.
My trick is a little different, though.
I don’t come onto them, I just come onto myself.
Accidentally being “busted” playing with myself is the oldest trick in the book, and it works basically every time.
One way or another, I am going to get out of here.
The longer I’m away, the more chaos will unfold.
I’m due to meet the devil himself in a matter of days. If I don’t show up, he’ll send an army out looking for me.
He’s not the type to speak first; no, he’s more a murder first and ask questions later kind of man, and I can’t afford to be stuck in that situation right now.
The only thing I have going for me is that he likes to fuck me so he tends to keep me around, but I’m not even sure his patience will allow me to stand him up for too long.
I’m in trouble if I don’t get out of here soon, and that trouble will make my life a living hell.
It’s time to put my plan into action.
Biker won’t know what hit him.
2
Standing by the door, my fingers curl tightly around the bed leg. I hold it to my chest, the sharp end out and ready for attack. The moment I heard noises outside, I got myself prepared. It has been two days, and he’s only now just returning. He thinks his little isolation is a punishment, enough to send me over the edge. He would be wrong. He hasn’t met me yet, and he’ll quickly learn it takes a lot more than that to break me.
The heavy sliding of the door latch being pulled has me readying myself. I brace, putting one foot in front of the other. I don’t intend on asking questions. The moment the large container door opens, and I see a figure, I swing. I don’t hesitate. My pole connects with something, and a loud crack rings out through the frosty woods. He’s wearing a dark hoodie, so I don’t see his face, which only makes this easier.
The moment his body hits the snow-covered ground, face down, I lunge at him, slamming the pole into his head over and over until the white snow is stained red. The cracking sounds ring out through the quiet day, but it doesn’t stop me. I hit him until his grunts stop and his body ceases moving. I wish I cared more about what I just did, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve done far, far worse, and it no longer bothers me to take a life.
I probably need some kind of therapy.
“Well fuck me, the stories about you are true. You’re a fuckin’ savage.”
The familiar voice has me spinning, panting, the bed leg still in my hand, dripping with rich red blood. The biker is standing by the open door, one hand hanging loosely by his side, holding a gun. He tips his head to the side and stares down at the man on the ground.
Wait.
What the fuck?
He set me up.
Panting, I use my foot to kick the person over and see that whoever it is, is dead. His eyes stare blankly into the sky, blood trickles from his mouth and head. I swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. I just killed a stranger, and this biker set me up. That cunning fucker. I’m all for killing someone if I have a reason to, but for no reason, well, I’m not a fan. This asshole is smart, smarter than I anticipated because he knew I would have something planned and he wasn’t taking any risks. He used an innocent person to do his dirty work.