Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
She’s so damn stubborn—that much hasn’t changed.
And while her stubbornness has threatened to drive me insane in the past, that’s nothing compared to this. Not when my entire fucking life is on the line. I haven’t taken all these pains to go unseen for two years only to be discovered in the garden, covered in mud.
The possibility of discovery and knowing she would be the reason for it is what makes me pull away. The wind blows hard enough that the trees seem to bend, flower beds pummeled by sheets of rain coming down hard enough to knock the petals from the blooms.
The most beautiful bloom of all is now mud-covered, hair plastered to her skull and face. I take in her heart-shaped face. She’s pale as a ghost, the color draining from her in what I know is extreme fear. I’ve seen that look on her face before; I just never thought I’d be the one to put it there.
How could she be so afraid of me? Doesn’t she know better?
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I try to tell her, but we may as well be in that dark corner all over again. I doubt she can hear me between the violent storm and her own fear ringing in her head.
Only this time, there’s no calming her down, no demonstrating the deep breaths she needs to take. She’s dead set on fighting me. Lightning streaks the sky, turning night to day, for one eerie second, and the almost feral look in her eyes makes me pity her and hate myself all at once.
Time is ticking by. I have to get her out of here. Sure, I’ve been lucky, but do I want to test that luck much longer?
The tension inside me expands. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do it this way. For a moment, I considered not bringing the syringe. Call me a romantic, but for some reason, I imagined her happily agreeing to run away with me. Only the memory of how impossible she can sometimes be was enough to make me bring the sedative along.
I hate to use it, but this isn’t my fault.
None of it is. I’ve only ever done what I was compelled to do.
My fingers shake as I pull the syringe from my inside pocket and pop the cap off the needle with my thumb.
Lightning flashes again, and at the very last moment, she sees it. Recognizes what it is and what’s about to happen. Though I can’t hear her gasp, I see it in the way her mouth opens and feel it in the sharp intake of breath that lifts her chest.
In one smooth move, I shove it into her neck and press down on the plunger. She struggles against me, and I hold her in place, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in. It didn’t have to be this way. I only hope she doesn’t hate me for it. When she’s calmer, when we’re away from here, and the shock of seeing me again wears off, I’ll be able to talk to her. We’ll get back to where we used to be.
We have to. What else is there, otherwise?
“Listen to me.” I lower my head until our noses touch, trying to get through to her before she loses consciousness. “Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to hurt you, ever, I swear. You’re everything to me. You know that.”
Her eyelids flutter, her body giving a few weak, ineffectual little jerks like she still wants to fight, even if it’s a losing battle.
I stayed away too long, didn’t I? Have I lost her?
It may as well be an eternity before she goes limp, her head lolling to the side and muscles loose. She doesn’t even twitch at the rain hitting her face. Her beautiful fucking face. I allow my fingers to trace the line of her jaw and over her bottom lip before coming back to myself. I don’t have a moment to lose here.
I survey the area quickly, making sure we’re alone. I find my footing and stand, crouching to lift her from the ground. She’s as light as she ever was, almost weightless in my arms, her head lolling on my shoulder. Her blond hair sticks to her face. With her slender body tucked against my chest, I lower my head and step as carefully as I can across the muddy ground while moving quickly. My goal— the gate I left slightly ajar to make for a quick exit.
Ahead, I can see the guard still unconscious and propped up against the other side of the wall, his chin touching his chest. Did I hit him that hard?
I might have killed him, but the possibility only stirs righteous pride rather than guilt or sorrow.