Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I use my phone to navigate. It’s a ten-minute walk, and I’m feeling pretty happy with myself. Arsen’s only been home once in the last week, and that was two days ago. He’ll never even realize I left.
The neighborhood turns onto a main road. I have to cross the street, but there are barely any cars. I pick up my pace as my nerves start to bother me. This is really happening.
I haven’t gone exploring in years. I never really thought I’d do it again. Not after that last time and my near brush with the law. I figured I got my thrills and a few good stories too, and there’s no reason to put myself at risk anymore.
Until sitting around Arsen’s mansion made me realize how much I crave the outside world.
The building comes into view up ahead. I check my phone, my palms clammy, and I’m at the right place. There’s a chain-link fence around the perimeter, but it’s easy to scale. Nobody bothers with barbed wire out here. I hit the other side and walk faster across a parking lot that’s gone scrubby with weeds.
Maud was right. The place really was an old elementary school. The front entrance has two big columns in the shapes of pencils on the outside, and a cornerstone says it was built in 1927. It’s a low building with dark, boarded windows. I move around the side of it, stomping through overgrown weeds and grass, until I spot a side door.
It’s locked. But no worries. I get out my picks and nearly fumble them in the dark. “Get it together, Lena,” I mutter to myself as I stick my tongue out in concentration.
I’m not good at this. But what I learned over the last few days is, I don’t have to be, so long as I’m patient. I keep at it for almost fifteen minutes before suddenly I feel the tumblers slip up into place and the whole lock turns. It thunks open and I nearly shriek as the door slowly opens toward me.
“Let’s see what you got in here,” I say, taking a flashlight from my bag.
The hallway is dirty. Not filthy like people have been squatting in here, but dusty like nobody’s come through here in a while. I stare at the offices and poke my head in a few. They’re mostly empty except for some random papers, an old fax machine, a mug that says Better Late Than Never, a pair of jeans folded in a corner, a pack of cigarettes with a few still left.
This is what I love the most about exploring. People used to work here. They spent their days in this building, and the whole place still holds onto them like it’s haunted by all their hopes and their dreams. Even a post office carries little echoes.
I find the sorting area. There are still big iron shelving units, most of them bolted into the floor. I find junk mail in big bundles shoved in a corner. I find the back side of the post office boxes, and a few of them still have letters. Those will never get picked up. They’ll never reach their intended destination.
I breathe the smell of old, decaying paper, and hold the flashlight between my teeth as I shuffle through some abandoned flyers.
I feel alive. So alive it’s hard to breathe. Although maybe that’s the flashlight in my mouth. Either way, this is good. I really needed to remind myself that I can still find new places and see new things, that I’m not trapped in my mom’s apartment anymore, and I won’t be trapped in Arsen’s mansion. I can get out and see spaces that haven’t been touched in years.
There’s a noise nearby. Something clatters nearby. I jump to my feet, an advertisement for a roofing company fluttering to the floor. I open my mouth to say something and the flashlight falls to my feet.
I scramble for it, cursing, and finally stand upright. I move the beam all around, but there’s nothing.
“Probably a squirrel,” I mutter and smile to myself. “Just being stupid.”
That’s enough living for one night. I’ve only been here for a little while, but I start making my way back toward the exit.
Except I hear another noise on the way.
This time, it’s a lot closer.
I whirl around. The beam flashes over shelves, painted cinderblock walls, an old clock. I think I see a face, but that can’t be right. I open my mouth to scream and step back, but stumble over an ancient unplugged landline phone.
“Shit,” I say, catching myself on the wall. I raise the flashlight again. “What the fuck was that?”
“Lena.” My name, barely a whisper, and from close.
“Who’s there?” I flail, on the edge of screaming and running.
But then he’s on me. A hand slams over my mouth and my body gets shoved hard against the wall. I gasp in shock and try to scream, but it’s muffled as his face comes into view.