Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Thick tears lined Shavonne’s cheeks as she watched him cover her best friend. What she really wanted to do was get into the man’s truck and run him over, but she was shaking like a leaf. She’d never dealt with anything like this before in her life and she wasn’t brave like Brynn. She didn’t fight men or spray them with pepper spray. She just . . . cowered. And she sat there while her friend was being buried alive, and the man kept shoveling and scooping until he’d finished. And when he was done, he threw the dirty shovel onto the bed of the truck, along with the bloodied rug, and drove away.
But Shavonne wouldn’t let this be it.
She may have been scared to confront him, but she could still try to save Brynn. She waited until the man drove away, taking the path to the main roads. When she could no longer see his taillights, she ran back to her car and pulled out a shovel of her own. It wasn’t anything like the man’s in the truck. Hers was half the size of his and rusted with a cracked handle. She’d bought it when she and Krystal had gone to the beach to look for shells they could sell in the shop. It was possible the shovel would break on the first dig, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t stop. She’d get Brynn’s body, dead or alive.
She dug quickly, thankful the dirt was soft. It was a bit moist, but it was fine. She kept digging with heavy breaths. Her shoulders ached and her arms grew numb. Her palms were sore and raw, and she was getting tired, but she didn’t relent—not until she saw one of Brynn’s hands. It was twitching. Then she heard moaning. It was faint, but it was definitely coming from the hole.
“Oh, God. Hold on, Brynn!” Shavonne wailed. She ditched the shovel and dropped to her knees, scraping at the dirt. It wedged beneath her fingernails as she clawed at it, powering through the numbness and pain until she could see Brynn’s face.
Dirt clogged her best friend’s nose, and her eyes were closed. There was a gash on her forehead that was so deep she could see some of the white meat. Dirt had wedged its way in there too. Shavonne was positive it’d get infected, but an infection was better than death.
She clawed and clawed until finally, the top half of Brynn’s body was visible. Then she grabbed Brynn’s arm and hauled her up while using her own body to climb out of the hole. She wasn’t sure how she’d done it. Never in her life had Shavonne felt strong. She didn’t lift weights and she hardly worked out, yet she’d managed to get Brynn’s body onto main ground, and she cried when Brynn’s bloodshot eyes fluttered open and looked right into hers.
FORTY-SEVEN
BRYNN
I truly felt like I’d died that night. Perhaps a part of me did—that bright-eyed, kind, and generous version of myself. The woman who gave every person the benefit of the doubt, who cared more than she should have, and made time for people who truly didn’t deserve it? She’d been buried. When all the dirt had piled up, filling my nostrils and every other facial hole, the nice Brynn was no more. I’d become a Brynn in survival mode.
I moaned as loudly as I could beneath the dirt, eyes closed, trying to move, but completely immobile. I was losing breath second by second. I managed to move one arm to claw at the dirt, but it’d been so packed down that it was impossible. My head still throbbed, and my eyes burned behind my eyelids. This was torture at its purest form and all I could wonder was how someone could do this to another human? How can you hurt someone so much, try to hide it, and still sleep at night? No one in their right mind is capable of such heinous things.
I can remember what it felt like drawing in what felt like my last breaths. But then I heard something. Grunting. Scraping. Thudding. Then I felt humid air hit my face and I could breathe through my mouth again. I sucked in a breath, swallowing dirt and grass. My hand twitched, my feet were shaking. A hand clutched my wrist and a person groaned as they tugged me out of my burial ground, their hands on my face, swiping. There was a familiar voice, but it was muted from the dirt in my ears. My eyes cracked open, and I saw two of the same woman. I knew her but couldn’t remember her name at the time. She sucked in a breath and her face was wet with tears as she wept. I wanted to smile at her, to hug her because it seemed like she needed it, but the darkness threatened to steal me away again.