Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
And I knew right away they were telling me, begging me to hurry—-
Or else.
I tried to keep my fingers from shaking as I typed the letters again and quickly scrolled up to choose another possible term.
Anthropomorph
But this wasn't it either, and the ghosts around me were wailing louder and louder as I typed the letters anew.
"I'm trying, okay?" It wasn't my fault the app required me to start from scratch with every new query.
Anthropophagi
I mentally crossed my fingers as I clicked on the term.
Come on, come on, please let this be it.
And it was.
In fables, myths, and legends, a being that feeds on human flesh.
A cannibal.
But by then it was too late.
Someone had grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth with something—-
Shit.
Shit.
Shiiiiiiiiiit.
The ghosts were gone, and the night eerily and devastatingly silent as my eyelids started to droop, and my body gradually sagged against my assailant.
Chapter Eleven
"Wakey-wakey, Ms. Sullivan." My boss smiled kindly at me as I stared up at him groggily. "You have been a very nosy girl, and I'm very sorry to say I'll have to kill you for it."
The room was still spinning ever so slightly as Dr. Harris turned his back on me and started humming. He was wearing scrubs, I observed drowsily.
Why?
The throbbing in my head made it hard for me to think, but my surroundings eventually made sense, and I realized I was in the clinic's storage room—-
My gaze darted down.
And I was strapped to his newly delivered surgical bed.
Panic burst inside of me just as Dr. Harris walked back to my side, and my lips parted in silent terror when I saw the yellow-colored IV tube already connected to my wrist, which was manacled to the bed railing.
No, no, noooo—-
"Sssh..." Dr. Harris' voice was soothing, but somehow, that just made him all the more monstrously frightening, and tears tracked helplessly down my cheeks.
"It's alright," Dr. Harris comforted me. "It will be all over soon, and you won't feel a thing, I promise."
I stared up at him, wishing I could somehow find the energy to spit at his abnormally smooth face. I had sometimes wondered how it was he had kept himself wrinkle-free, and now I had my answer.
It was all because he was an anthropo...shit, what was that word again?
A squeaking sound distracted me, and I saw Dr. Harris pulling a swivel chair close so he could sit next to my bed.
"Have you ever undergone liposuction before, Ms. Sullivan?"
I forced myself to shake my head. In books and movies, the characters that tended to survive were those who had kept their would-be killers talking, and well...a girl's gotta hope, right?
Dr. Harris was nodding thoughtfully. "I did think that was the case."
"Is that what this is then?" I managed to croak out. "Forced liposuction?"
My boss chuckled. "You're looking at me like I've lost my mind, but I assure you that's not the case."
I wished I could say I begged to differ, but nah. I needed him to keep me alive for longer time, not shorter.
"I am so very rarely surprised these days, young lady, but you..." His gaze turned admiring. "I was immensely shocked when I saw what you've written on the mirror..."
So that was how he knew I knew.
"How do you know what I am?" he asked curiously.
"If I tell you, I'd have to kill you."
Dr. Harris laughed. "Priceless, my dear."
He sounded so wonderfully charmed by my quip, it was almost impossible to remember that he was also a cannibal underneath his immaculately polished disguise. Maybe he was related to Ted Bundy, seeing how Dr. Harris ticked all the boxes: good-looking and rich, educated and well-spoken, and a fetish for human flesh. If I remembered correctly, didn't the Boston Strangler like to bite his victims—-
"Ms. Sullivan?"
I tensed involuntarily, the politeness of his tone making me feel sick to my stomach.
"You haven't answered my question."
"It was a guess."
His lips tightened. "I don't like liars, my dear."
And I don't like killers, I thought gloomily, but we don't always get what we want, do we?
"You know what I think?"
Nope.
I didn't want to know what he was thinking.
He was a serial killer, ergo, his thoughts would be grossly—-
"I think you can see ghosts."
Perceptive.
"That's it, isn't it?"
"Nope."
"What a horrible liar you are, Ms. Sullivan."
Shit.
"It's because of people like you that I cut their tongues out, you know."
Oh God, the old man really was a psycho, to say something like that so damn easily.
"The spell was supposed to keep them from snitching, but..." Dr. Harris sighed. "I knew that Fiverr ad was too good to be true."
Spell?
Fiver?
Dr. Harris clucked his tongue. "Don't look at me like that—-"
"What are you exactly?" He made me sick, and he scared the shit out of me, but even so, I truly did want to know what kind of monster he was. "Are you like Harry Potter but raised on a diet of Texas Chainsaw Massacres and The Hills Have Eyes—-"