Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
So many times, I’ve had to hold back from asking questions about the man in the painting. I have no business being curious about him.
I glance up at the huge antique clock above the fireplace and gasp quietly.
I’m late.
I have to leave now, or I’ll miss my bus home. I’ll have to wait a long time for the next one.
I don’t have the liberty of extra time, though, so I quickly snatch my coat from the hanger and head out of the house in a hurry.
As usual, the bus ride home is quiet.
I make a mental list of what I have to do when I get home. I’ll freshen up, scrap some leftovers from my fridge, and then prepare for my online night classes.
I have three homes to clean tomorrow, but first I have to drop by Brenda’s office to pick up the keys.
As usual, I was already half-asleep when the bus pulled up to my stop. I jerk awake thanks to the sharp cry of a distraught mother sitting close to me.
I throw a pitiful glance at the poor mom trying to console her wailing daughter and quickly descend from the bus.
I hurriedly walk down the dingy alleyway that leads to my apartment, staying alert for any strange sounds or movement behind me.
I live in the less savory parts of Hudson, and it’s not uncommon to get attacked in dark alleyways like the one that leads to my house.
I let out a deep breath of relief as soon as I reach my door.
I quickly open my door and slip into my apartment, locking the door after me.
I strip mindlessly, piling my clothes on the single sofa in my room. I walk naked into the bathroom, softly humming the tune to Adele’s ‘Don’t You Remember.’
My life is a boring repetition, and I actually prefer it that way. I enjoy the peace that comes with it.
It’s a contradiction to my stormy childhood and teenage years back in Texas. Moving to Hudson was the best decision I’ve made for myself yet.
I feel the onset of a familiar rush of emotions pushing against the mental barrier I created to shield myself from the pain.
I can’t let go, though.
I don’t know what I’d do if I let my demons catch up with me. So, I focus on lathering some shampoo in my hair while going through the next day’s tasks.
Again.
I turn off the shower and step out of the bathtub.
I reach out to pull my towel off the rack when I suddenly hear a strange rustling sound outside my bathroom door.
I freeze, craning my neck to listen better.
The sound comes again, and this time I’m almost certain that there’s someone else in my apartment.
My head instantly fills up with several gory scenarios of women who have been attacked and molested in their homes in this very neighborhood.
My heart lurches violently in my chest and settles into an unsteady rhythm. I look around wildly for anything that can act as a sort of weapon, and my eyes fall on my shampoo bottle by the sink.
I knit my towel tightly around me and grab the shampoo bottle. I hold the shampoo bottle defensively above my head, tiptoeing quietly toward the door.
I close my fingers around the doorknob and turn slowly. I open the door and peep out. My heart almost stops when I see a tall, hooded figure by my door. His back is turned to me, and he’s hunched over doing something to my lock.
I run blindly at him, ready to draw blood with my shampoo bottle. Instead, he turns just in time to avoid a fatal hit to the head. He grabs my hand tightly and violently jerks me against his chest.
A shrill scream escapes my throat, my eyes tightly shut in horror.
“Melody? Melody!”
The deep raspy voice penetrates through my fear.
I open my eyes, momentarily disoriented. My gaze focuses on the familiar gaunt face of my landlord.
I jerk away from him, suddenly conscious of my semi-naked state. His translucent blue eyes seem to take in my appearance in an unhurried sweep that sends chills down my spine.
“Wh... What are you doing here?” I stammer, slowly putting some distance between us. “How... How did you get in here? The door....”