Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
I nodded, looking briefly at the picture frame towering over him. Equations. Billons of mathematical equations, all scribbled and transcribed in a mismatch of cursive, print, and handwriting. No color. Just black and white.
At first glance, it looked like an image might exist in the bold equations but it was only an optical illusion.
Kill grunted, “Stop looking over my shoulder and pay attention.”
I obeyed, looking into his vibrant green eyes, feeling once again that link of remembrance… connection… love.
Love?
I slapped away the thought. I didn’t know the meaning of it. I’d forgotten people I once loved. I’d forgotten my parents, any lovers, or siblings, or friends. How could I forget them, yet feel as if I loved this horrible, bleeding man who’d kidnapped and meant to sell me?
I am broken.
I wanted to rattle myself and see if the shards of my soul tinkled like chipped china. I needed to find a way to put myself back together again, and fast.
Kill sucked in a deep breath as a fresh wave of pain made his fists clench. “You said you can help. Why?”
I rested my hands on my naked thighs, wishing the T-shirt covered me more. “I’m a vet. Or at least I was a vet, or training to be one… Regardless, I know how to stem bleeding.”
I hope.
No, I knew. Something inside throbbed with the knowledge of how to heal, how to stitch and tend.
He raised an eyebrow. “How old are you? You look too young to have that qualification.” His head cocked, belying the eagerness behind his innocent question. Was that to figure out how he knew me or purely disbelieving about my skills?
I don’t know.
I waved my hand. “Do you really need to know? I thought you said you didn’t care who we were or what our names are. Tell me where your first aid kit is, and I’ll help you.”
I wanted answers but I didn’t want to show my weakness by asking. If I didn’t prompt, how much extra could I learn by his error and slipups?
He locked his jaw, deliberation glowing in his eyes. Finally, he sat up and with a pained groan slipped his bloodstained jacket off his shoulders.
I gasped, rolling forward on my chair. “Oh my God.” The sight of blood didn’t faze me but the knowledge that he hurt cut me in a way I couldn’t describe.
He gritted his teeth, looking down at his shredded T-shirt. “Aw, shit. Hoped it wouldn’t be that bad.”
So much blood.
He swayed a little, his head bowing, before he muttered, “Bathroom to the right. Under the sink.”
“I—I think… you need to go to the hospital.” The amount of blood made the wound look unsurvivable. Stomping around, driving motorbikes in the dead of morning, and keeping me hostage certainly hadn’t helped the situation.
He looked up, gaze blazing green. “No fucking doctors. Go get the—”
His eyes rolled back, his jaw went slack, and he slumped forward.
I shot to my feet as he tumbled from the chair, face-planting to the white tile below. I rushed forward, grabbing his cold bicep, hoping I could stop him from damaging himself further. But it didn’t do any good. He collapsed into a pile of black clothing and blood, his jaw-length hair sticking to his five-o’clock shadow.
Those beautiful eyes that lived in my soul—those eyes that haunted me—closed.
The hum of the computers carried on but the rest of the world went silent. Without his green eyes teasing my heart, I breathed hard, trying to unscramble everything inside. Was this a cruel joke? Being held hostage by a man who held the eyes of someone who possessed my love and soul?
Why couldn’t I remember?
My stomach ached with pain… with grief—to have lost something I couldn’t recall. It hurt worse than anything that’d happened since I woke.
Kill’s breathing was shallow but he was alive. His arm lay outstretched, cheek pressed against the hard floor, body twisted at a painful angle.
My heart lurched, staring at his unconscious form.
I live alone.
My head snapped up, gaze locking onto the exit. Here was my chance. The only one I would get before my life turned from nightmare to horror show.
Run.
I stood there, locked in place as scenarios and horrible conclusions filled my brain.
If I ran, I would be at the mercy of doctors, tests, and interviews. If I ran I would be running from one unknown to so many others.
If I didn’t run, I would be destined to a world where I wouldn’t be human but a toy. I’d be abused and raped and treated like dirt.
Sold.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Biting my lip, I prodded Kill with my foot. I needed to make sure he was out cold before I made my escape. He didn’t groan or twitch. Completely unconscious.
The sinister gun glinted beneath the glare of the computer screens. I picked it off the desk, shocked and slightly horrified at the weight. I didn’t know what model it was, how many rounds it held, or even how to shoot the damn thing, but I cupped the handle, resting my finger on the oh so dangerous trigger.