Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“I’m not just like them,” he said, his jaw tight. His fists clenching over and over again. “Because they didn’t stop did they?”
I shook my head.
Preppy ran his hand through his hair and punched the rock for the second time. I yelped. His muscles across his cheek and neck tensed. He was breathing erratically. His look drilled me to the rock. “I’d kill him all over again if I could.” He grabbed his shirt and darted through the opening I wasn’t able to find, its location now ridiculously obvious.
It made sense that his body was built for sin, because the hold Samuel Clearwater had over me was something straight from the depths of hell.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PREPPY
PRESENT
I was beginning to think I’d never again see the light of day.
Or light at all.
I didn’t even really know where I was being held. All I knew for sure was that the walls and floor were both made of dirt and were cold and damp to the touch on some days and dry and dusty on others. The ceiling felt low although I couldn’t see it.
My voice echoed all around me when I talked to myself. “There isn’t a damned thing a chick could wear that’s hotter than high heels. That’s a motherfucking fact,” I said, into the darkness. “You can hold on to them when you fuck, too, so they serve a practical purpose. It was I who coined the term ‘handlebars,’” I coughed up dust, choking on it when I breathed it back in.
Surprisingly, the darkness answered me back and a dim light walked toward me, growing brighter with each step. “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Chop muttered, shining his flashlight into my eyes.
“You know, if you didn’t look like Bear’s older, uglier doppelgänger, I would never think that the two of you were even related. ’Cause even when Bear is PMSing and in a bitch-ass mood, he’s still all there upstairs.” I pointed at the gray-haired man, staring hatred down at me. “You sir…have a few pumpkins missing from your patch.” I swayed and my vision blurred, when it came back into focus a few seconds later, Chop’s hovering image shifted from one to three, then back to one.
One was still too fucking many.
I was lying over the threshold of death’s door, yet it was Chop whose eyes held no signs of life, void of anything other than his constant anger. If I didn’t want to shove a rock through his skull so badly, I might have pitied the motherfucker and his sad existence. Which was fucked up because I was the one bleeding all over the dirt at his feet.
“No more talking, boy! It’s time to SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chop roared, slamming his hand against the wall beside my head.
I didn’t flinch. Not because I was being a badass, but because my reflexes were shot to shit. I could tell by the way his nostrils flared that my lack of reaction was taken as yet another act of defiance. He swallowed hard, like he was holding back. From where I was sitting, that was a fucking first for the sadistic bastard.
A few seconds passed where we just stared at one another. If the motherfucker wanted a contest of wills he was going to lose, because it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be but hell, and from the looks of things I was pretty sure I was already there.
After a moment a smirk crept onto his face, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. He seemed satisfied that I was going to do what I was told, which was basically shut up and bleed. He turned around and started walking away.
He was wrong.
“Just one more question, and it’s a serious one,” I managed to scratch out, my throat feeling as if someone with sharp nails was trying to claw their way out from the inside. Chop paused mid stride, and I could almost see the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end. I coughed. Warm, coppery fluid filled my mouth, coating my teeth. I was used to the taste at that point and knew exactly what it was before it poured past my lips and dribbled down my chin, falling onto what was left of my shirt. “Does this place have wifi?” I asked, spitting blood as I spoke. “Because if not, I’m seriously going to have to take that into consideration in my Yelp rating. I will say, though, that the torture is excellent.” I went to lift my arm and a wave of pain assaulted my ribs. I winced but kept talking, enjoying the look on Chop’s red face as he slowly turned around, cracking his knuckles and stomping his way back toward me. “However, the staff doesn’t give me that warm tingly feeling I’ve come to expect from such an establishment, not to mention they’re ugly as all fuck.”