Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Fifteen minutes later, I park down the road and hike the rest of the way. The sun has finished its descent past the horizon, leaving a small line of violet in the distance.
The color black is slowly staking its claim on the tall trees and the dirt path. My muscles tighten with exertion as I run the distance upward, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.
It’s not hard. If anything, it doesn’t take much effort to be a shadow.
It’s been in me since the moment I had to disappear so I wouldn’t meet my parents’ fate.
The moment I became a shadow and watched their vacant eyes stare at nowhere as blood marred them.
Logically, that’s when my need for violence started.
I recognized it when I was a boy and had to do something about it after I beat up one of my classmates in elementary school. My grandparents got me into coping therapy and I had a shit-ton after that.
But the only way I could slowly get past the need to hurt was when I embraced sports. Nate used to play catch with me and then wrestle me to the ground, making me kick and scream.
So I chose football.
A violent enough game to wean down my constant need for violence. I wanted to go with boxing when I was a kid, but Grandma clutched her pearls, which was an indirect no.
I’ve managed to survive all this time.
Until her.
Naomi.
I can no longer control my violent urges when it comes to her. They blossomed the first time I chased her through this forest. Then they peaked when I took her like an animal on the stairs.
And now, they can only go up.
My feet come to a halt behind a tree when I make out her silhouette in the darkness. She’s standing by the rock, grabbing one of her arms as she stares sideways.
I’m more than a half hour late, yet she didn’t leave.
She waited like a good prey.
I don’t have to see her face to recognize the darkness. I can feel it even all the way to here. I can taste it in the air, and if I touch her, it’ll break through me and yank out the beast inside me.
My breathing deepens and I slowly let the metaphorical shackles drop around me.
I don’t have to put a mask on right now or pretend that the twisted feeling lurking under my skin isn’t there.
I get to let go, to feed on another human’s screams and fights.
By the time I’m finished, she’ll realize that not ending the fantasy was a big fucking mistake.
One we’ll both pay for.
20
Naomi
Tonight, I’m prey.
Again.
My feet curl into my flat sneakers as my vision helplessly searches for a hint of a shadow.
The glow of my smartwatch in the darkness indicates he’s thirty-seven minutes late.
I should’ve given up and gone home by now. I should’ve grabbed some chips and curled up in front of the TV and listened to Mom talk about her latest show with her assistants.
But I didn’t.
My feet have gone numb from standing and pacing, but when I attempted to sit down, I couldn’t stay still for more than a few seconds.
The buzz of energy that’s been confiscating my breathing is too powerful to simply ignore.
But he’s not here.
Maybe I read what he said in the cafeteria wrong and he didn’t mean for us to meet here and pick up from where we left off.
Maybe I was only projecting my own fucked-up wishes.
God. I need to talk about this to someone. Other than Akira. Because I’m a coward, even to a pen pal I’ve had for years. I simply asked if he thought it was crazy if I had weird fantasies that no one would find politically correct like being chased and caught or something.
I’m still contemplating whether or not I should go to the post office and beg to get that letter back. Maybe Akira will think I’m a weirdo and I’ll lose one of the only two friends I have—
A rustle comes from behind me and I freeze for a fraction of a second before I dash behind the rock. I don’t even know what I’m doing as I crouch. My stiff, unsteady fingers grip the edge and I slowly peer over it.
There’s no one.
Maybe I’m imagining things and letting the wait time get to my head. Maybe it’s just one of the night creatures…
My busy thoughts trail off when I sense a presence at my back right before a strong hand grabs me tightly by the hair.
I shriek, but the sound is cut off when a palm slams against my mouth. It smells familiar yet foreign at the same time. Bergamot and amber is Sebastian’s signature scent, but right now, that’s not the only thing that penetrates my nostrils. I’m also breathing in a tangible muskiness, an animalistic masculinity that’s accentuated by the way he’s grabbing me.