Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I have to get out of here, but how?
I’m well and truly locked in here, but if I was in Blake’s room, I’d be able to jump out of the window and at least fall into the grass below. Out of my window is an entertaining system that would surely see my death in the form of a wicked electrocution if I were to jump. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I wonder if death is the easy option, but now that I know Slade is alive, there’s nothing I want more than to be in his arms.
The knife continues spinning between my fingers when I look down at it. How could I be so stupid? The solution is right in front of my face. I’ve run before. I can do it again.
Flying from my window is instant death, but Blake’s window is my way out and if I can’t go through the door to get there, then I’ll make my own fucking door.
I spin around on the floor and glance up at the massive wall before me. Blake’s bedroom is on the other side of this wall and I don’t care what it takes to get through it, I’m doing it.
Lucien and Maria are both in bed, right over the other end of the house and after a day like today, I’m sure they’ll be sleeping like the living dead. But despite that, I won’t be making a damn noise.
I fly to my feet, my will to fight even stronger than the moment I saw Slade’s face. I’m going home and I’m going home tonight. Nothing will stop me. I don’t even care if I have to run the whole way there. I’ll be returning to Aston Creek to Shaylee’s loving smile, Daniella’s warm hugs, Damian’s sarcastic comments, and Nessa’s snappy attitude. I’ll be heading straight for the hospital to check on Blake while Slade stands by my side, promising to never let me out of his sight again.
Fuck, I can just imagine it. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my life.
Without wasting another second, I press the tip of my trusty knife against the drywall and shove it in. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to do. It takes a lot of strength to break through this shit. I’d just stab it straight through if I wasn’t so terrified of making a sound, but I am and I won’t risk it.
If Lucien catches me trying to break out of here, I’m done for. Too much is at stake and now that I’ve seen that vision in my head of my friends and family, I’ll be stopping at nothing to get it. I don’t care what I have to do to get there, as long as I get there in the end. To me, that’s all that matters.
With the knife protruding from the wall, I push it down, trying to slice right through it, but it’s a challenge. My hands turn red, but I’m not giving up. I want this too bad.
I somehow manage to get it to the bottom before giving it a hard tug and releasing it from the wall. I spend the next ten minutes trying to make another one and then finally, I start to get somewhere.
I cut out a hole just big enough for me to squeeze through and am thankful that I’ve found a piece of wall that doesn’t have a thick piece of wood through it. I start working on the other side, scrunching up my face at the smell of the old insulation inside the walls.
Half an hour later, I step through the wall into Blake’s room, knowing he’ll get a kick out of this. I glance around. I love this room, but now’s not the time for a trip down memory lane.
I go straight for the window, tucking the knife into my pocket. I slide the window open, cringing at the chilly bite in the air as I step up onto the ledge.
I have one shot at this.
My heart races as I look down. It’s now or never.
That resolve pulses through my veins and clenching my eyes, I jump, landing in the grass with a hard thud. My ankle twists under the pressure and I fall to my knees, cringing with the pain as I cradle my ankle.
Tear spring to my eyes, making me feel like a weak bitch.
What am I doing sitting in the manicured grass crying about a sore ankle? I’m out. I need to run before they realize I’m gone. I need to put as much distance between me and this place as possible.
With that thought, I get to my feet and run, doing my best to ignore the pain. Hell, I was so fucking focused on getting out of there that I didn’t even bother with shoes or a hoodie. My feet are going to get scratched up within seconds but what are a few scratches when your life is on the line?