Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88673 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Her face crinkles up in such confusion, I actually smile. “Under the ground?” She looks at the floor, then back at me. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t know about the tunnels?”
“What tunnels?”
“I’ll take that as a no. I’m surprised, though. I figured Collin Creed told everyone in Disciple. That’s what he said he did, anyway. Guess he’s a liar.”
“I don’t live here anymore. I haven’t been home in a long time. The reno, as you can see”—she pans a hand to the wreck of what used to be a kitchen—“is at a standstill. This house is going to bankrupt me. There’s no reason to come home when home is gone. Well, except for my bedroom.”
Without realizing it, I smile, remembering her bedroom.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“You went up there, didn’t you? Did you sleep in my bed last night?”
“If you were me, would you have slept in it?”
“You did. You slept in my childhood bed while I was locked in my own basement. Which, by the way, was sort of a playhouse when I was a kid. I loved that cabin. And now I will never think of it the same way again. You’ve ruined a major part of my childhood by keeping me prisoner down there.”
“I only kept you prisoner because you tried to escape.”
“Oh, no. You will not turn this around on me, you psychopath. I only tried to escape because you were holding me prisoner!”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You walked in on me. I had no choice.”
“I walked in on you? No.” She shakes her head. “That’s not how it happened. I wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was in the right place.” She points her finger at me. “You were the one in the wrong place. You.”
“Do you wanna come with me or do you want to die in the basement?”
“Obviously, I don’t want to die.”
“So you want to come with me.”
“I’m not saying that. I would rather you just… let me go.”
“So you can go tell Collin.”
“What is it with you and Collin Creed? I don’t understand. Are you two enemies or something?”
“Never mind Collin. I’m trying to keep you alive. That’s the part you should be concentrating on right now, OK? Just that. And I feel I’ve had this discussion with you a million times and it’s only been a couple of days. Why are you so fucking difficult? Why can’t you help me help you?”
I’m getting angry and she suddenly realizes this, so she doesn’t reply. But I can see the hatred in her eyes for me. I can see her loathing.
But there’s something else in there, too.
It’s… injustice. Her arguing and pushback isn’t something she’s doing on purpose. She feels wronged. I am actually at fault. And it’s pissing her off so much that I refuse to take responsibility for this situation, she cannot stop the attitude.
It’s not fair. And Clover Bradley is, apparently, a woman who believes in fairness.
I let out a long breath, pulling my anger back. “I’m sorry, OK? Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. Now. I’m going to ask one more time, and only one more time. Do you want to stay here and die?”
She shrugs up one shoulder and crosses her arms. “Yes. I want to stay here and die.”
“Come on. You do not.”
“I do. I want to make you responsible for my death. I want the memory of this to eat you alive. I want you to regret not letting me go. And then, when you die, I want you to go to hell for it.”
I laugh. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those ‘last word’ kinda girls? The kind who can’t stand to lose an argument so you say and do things only out of spite.”
“First of all”—she holds up a finger—“I’m a ray of fucking sunshine, OK? I’m not one of ‘those girls.’ I can’t even remember the last time I had an argument, let alone the last time I plotted to win one. I’m a pleaser. I work in customer service. I plan events at a big hotel—”
“Correction. You did plan events at a big hotel. You don’t anymore.”
“My point is”—these words come out through clenched teeth—“I live to make people happy. My joy comes from their joy.”
“Well, that’s fucking sad.”
“There’s nothing sad about that.”
“So what are your dreams?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
“You don’t have any, do you? You go through life living off a contact high.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. But even if that were true, at least I’m not a psychopathic killer who will leave young women to slowly starve to death in a basement.”
“I just invited you to come with me, so from this point on, Clover, what happens to you is your choice.”