Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
I slam my eyes shut and bite back a whimper.
Children. That’s where the horrible sounds have been coming from. From children. Young ones. So small. Grainy images on the television. Being forced to do things no child should ever witness or be part of.
My fear and determination slip away, replaced with a sorrow that fills my heart, yet also leaves me frozen and empty.
Then my gaze drops to Mr. Gade. His hand shoved down the front of his sweatpants. His slack jaw and glazed eyes focused on the screen of horrors in front of him.
Enjoying himself.
Anger blazes my fear and sorrow into ashes, leaving nothing but the bone-deep need to end this sick creature’s life.
He’s so engrossed in his disturbing home movie, he hasn’t even noticed me.
The high back of his chair partially blocks my aim. I have to sneak in close—too close for my comfort—yet somehow he doesn’t see me in his peripheral vision. A dark, angry shadow about to plunge a needle into the side of his neck.
Now! I pierce his skin and jam the plunger down.
Stunned, he turns and jerks to the side, staring up at me with wide, confused eyes. His shoulder twitches up as if he wants to bat the needle away but his wrist is still trapped in the waistband of his pants.
His body jolts, the tendons in his neck standing out. Completely rigid, he slumps to the side of the chair, eyes wide and staring at me.
I’d been worried a dose meant for dogs might not be enough for a human, but it seems to have stunned him for now.
His lips move like a fish gulping air, but no words come out.
“Who am I?” I taunt. “Is that what you want to know?”
More fish-gulping.
“A friend of Hoyt’s,” I answer. “I’ve waited a long time for this night.” I tilt my head toward the screen without looking at it again. “I see you haven’t changed at all. The world’s going to be a whole lot safer with one less pervert in it.”
His limbs jerk as if he’s willing his body to move or run away. Still worried I might have the wrong dosage and he could escape, I pull out another syringe. Usually I’m sucking fluid out of bodies, but I still know exactly where to poke—right into his fat, juicy jugular vein.
He chokes and gurgles, his body curling in on itself like a dried leaf. Whoopsie. Maybe that was too much.
“I’d like to leave as little evidence behind as possible,” I warn, moving in front of him while turning my back to the television screen. “I wanted to stuff you into the wall. The way you did to Hoyt. But I feel like that’s going to take a lot of time and effort on my part.” I tap my chin as if I’m pretending to review all my options. “I don’t relish the idea of making your death look like a suicide, though. Because clearly you have no remorse for your actions.”
More choking sounds.
I pull a knife out of my pocket. “I really do want to take a souvenir, though, so I guess that will make it obvious it’s not a suicide.”
Now I’m just babbling. I wish I’d come up with a more solid plan before tonight. Stun and paralyze him with an injection so I can take my time killing him was as far as I’d gotten.
“Maybe a closet will work? It’ll take a while for anyone to find you. Give any evidence some time to deteriorate.”
I pull a thick black zip tie from the cargo pocket of my pants. Grabbing the sleeve of his grimy sweatshirt, I tug and pull until his hand pops out of the waistband of his pants. I grip his other wrist and bind them together, cinching the zip tie tight. Just in case the drugs wear off before I finish my search of the house. Keeping an eye on him, I squat in front of the chair and bind his ankles together.
“Guh-guh-guh,” he sputters.
“Gun? You have a gun you want me to shoot you with?”
He squeezes his eyes shut.
I’m not sure how to interpret that, nor do I care. Instead, I return to the kitchen, where I grab one of the gross little Fourth-of-July towels. I return to the living room and force it in his mouth, tying it tightly behind his head. “Just in case those two doses wear off. I didn’t precisely measure them.” A wild laugh escapes from my lips. His eyes bug impossibly wider as if a little unhinged laughter is more terrifying than anything else that’s happened to him tonight.
“People think guys like you get ‘prison justice’ when they’re inside, but that’s not always true, is it?” I tsk. “You had a nice, cushy, segregated area of the prison where you had the luxury of associating with more sickos just like you, right?”