The Survivor Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Insta-Love, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
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Everything about her right then was telling me one thing: I am going to help you catch this guy.

I prayed to God that was true.

Before anyone else got hurt.

CHAPTER THREE

Mari

The hospital had been too much and not enough at the same time.

Too loud.

Too bright.

Too busy.

But not warm enough.

Not comfortable enough.

Not safe enough.

I counted one security guard, stationed way over at the other side of the emergency room.

If my attacker came in, would the officer be able to get to me in time?

I had to stop it.

That was crazy thinking.

Even if the guy wanted to come back and finish the job, he wasn’t going to be so stupid as to come for me in a crowded place full of people and cameras.

If there was one thing you had to say about the man, it was that he seemed meticulous.

Mask, gloves, that belt with everything he could need in it. He never spoke. He didn’t even have any distinguishing smell lingering to him or his clothes.

Predators like that weren’t impulsive.

He would plot it until it was perfect.

Then he would strike.

If he survived.

It wasn’t until I was sitting on that bed in a gown and slipper socks—because I had no clothes when I came in by the ambulance—that that potential reality came to me.

I could have killed a man.

I wasn’t exactly horrified by that, to be honest. At that moment, it sure as hell felt like it was him or me. I would have done anything to make sure it was him. I would have bitten off his nose. His finger. His penis. I didn’t care. I would always fight my way out with nails and teeth.

But I could have very well killed a man.

I had his blood under my nails.

Well, what was left after the forensics crew scraped under them.

I’d stabbed him. Twice. I had his hot, wet blood on my fingers. He could have bled out. Some part of me almost hoped he did. Because otherwise, he might come back for me. Or victimize another woman.

The nurse and doctor came and went, cleaning my wounds, checking my vitals, ordering tests, the usual.

Eventually, I had a scan to check for a concussion. I was clear. Then I was given some basic instructions about concussion symptoms, just in case, had my wrists wrapped, then was discharged.

It was still the darkest part of night right before dawn. I did manage to remember to ask the female officer to get me my cell phone and purse for me before the ambulance took me away, but I was standing near the hospital exit in clothes from the lost & found that hung three sizes too big on me, making me look even smaller than usual in the reflection of the windows.

I had nothing to change into, and I damn sure wasn’t going to be stopping home. Or even to an all-night store all alone.

God, I was mildly terrified to even book a ride hail. But what other choice did I have? I had no car. I had no real friends. And I damn sure wasn’t walking alone at night.

Taking a steadying breath, I opened the app and sighed a bit in relief when I saw a new feature available. Woman preference. There was an asterisk next to it saying you weren’t guaranteed the choice, but I was crossing my fingers as I waited to see who would answer the request.

I actually felt tears prick my eyes when I saw Julie and Red Ford Focus pop up.

“Tell me you’re not going home to that sonofabitch,” Julie greeted me as I slid into the backseat, the light illuminating my quickly setting in bruises.

“What? Oh, no. This wasn’t… domestic,” I said, tripping over the word.

In the rearview, I saw the surprise, then understanding, followed by a familiar tightening of her features.

“But I’m not going home,” I added. “Can you take me to that hotel across from the lawn mower place?” I asked, never having learned the name since I had made Navesink Bank my home, and didn’t ever need to stay in a hotel.

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding.

I didn’t try to get a room yet. But it was the off-season. No one was staying at hotels around Navesink Bank in October. I would probably get a good deal even.

“We’ll be passing by the Dunkin,” Julie said as she drove, and I reached for one of her phone charging cords that were draped over the center console, knowing I would have no way to charge my phone until the morning. “Seems like you’ve had a night.”

“Ah, yeah, actually,” I said, nodding. “I could use a coffee.”

Twenty minutes later, I had a large hot coffee in one hand, a slightly stale blueberry muffin in the other, and was pocketing my hotel key before moving out to wave at Julie, who said she was going to wait for me to make sure I was okay before driving off to her next hail.


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