Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 71074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
She doesn’t say anything to me; instead, she finishes cleaning me up. "All done," she says as she finishes my last wound. She walks over to the desk and brings me back two pills. "This should help with the pain."
"I’m good," I tell her. "I don’t want to be loopy."
"Your body needs to rest to heal,” she says, and I take the two pills and then take three sips of water. "I’ll be back," she says, leaving the room, and my eyes close the second she is out of sight, and the darkness takes over.
"You can’t run from me for long." I hear my father's voice. "I found you once, I’ll find you again."
My eyes open, and I gasp out, my chest rising and falling so fast I can’t catch my breath. My blurry eyes roam the dark room. My eyes go to the window, and I see two eyes looking back at me before the crashing of glass fills the room.
Chapter 10
Chelsea
The sound of glass makes me jump out of bed. The only thing I grab is the gun on my bedside table as I run out of the room and toward the sound of groaning. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is beating so fast I can’t even breathe properly. As I run in the darkness, so many things rush at me.
I run into the room, the darkness all around me as I step on the glass. The burning is going straight from my foot to my calf. I ignore the pain as I turn on the light, my gun still pointed. "Fuck," I hear hissed from the floor and look down to see Mayson lying on his stomach. One of the lamps from the side table on the floor is smashed, the glass of water smashed into little pieces.
My eyes fly to the window, seeing it’s still closed as I look back down at Mayson. Blood all around him, I rush to him, putting the gun down beside me as I turn him over to his back. "Mayson," I whisper, and his eyes open. The anguish and pain is written all over his face. "You’re bleeding," I tell him, looking down at the blood that seeped through the white shirt he is wearing. "I need to get you up," I say and turn around to pick him up by his shoulders. I slip my hands under his arms, and he fights with me.
"I got it," he hisses out angrily. I look at him as he struggles to get up and into the bed. I walk over to him to help him get his legs into the bed, but his voice angrily stops me. "I said I got it." He doesn’t look at me as he gets back into bed.
I look at him, my heart thumping so fast in my chest that the heat is creeping up the back of my neck. The sweat beads all over his forehead, making me know he’s taken more energy getting into bed than he cares to admit. His chest is rising and falling as my eyes go to the drop of blood leaking down his side and onto the white pad under him.
"I have to get the bleeding to stop," I say, turning to walk away and wincing. I stop mid-step and look down to see blood coming out of the bottom of my foot. "Shit," I hiss out, looking over my shoulder to see his eyes looking straight at my foot.
"Make sure there isn’t glass stuck in there." He motions with his chin toward my foot. I just turn my head back, making my way to the bathroom, putting the pressure on the heel of my foot.
I walk over to the bathtub and sit on the edge. Turning on the water, I wait until it’s warm before I let it wash over my foot. The heat stings just a bit. Taking a second for myself, I close my eyes and let my heart calm down. So many fucking things were going through my head when I heard the glass crashing. I thought it was his father. I thought I would walk into the room and find him dead. "Are you okay in there?" I hear his voice and wipe away the lone tear rolling down my cheek.
"Yeah," I say, grabbing a towel to wrap my foot in it, trying to close off my head. I apply pressure to it and then unwrap it and see it is sliced right through. "It went right through!” I shout, looking down at the red line straight down the bottom of my foot. Little droplets of blood are starting to come out.
"Do you need stitches?" he shouts, and I take a look at it.
"I think I’ll just need to bandage it," I tell him, wrapping the towel around it and applying pressure, hoping to stop the bleeding. Swinging my feet out of the tub, I get up, placing all the pressure on the heel of my foot as I walk back into the room. "I need shoes," I say to him, avoiding his eyes. I slip my feet into my surgical Crocs.