Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“She was your sister,” I croak, my voice cracking.
“Yeah, and I’ll find who did this to her, and they’ll suffer every day for the rest of their miserable fuckin’ life.”
Oh, God.
I’m going to be sick.
Turning, so he can’t see my face scrunch in pain, I rush away.
I physically can’t hold my vomit in, and when I round the corner, I fall to my knees and don’t even try to hold it back. Sobbing as the contents of my stomach come soaring out, I pray that my heart will leave, too, and maybe then this won’t hurt so much.
“You’re sick.”
Colt is behind me, staring down at me with concern.
“I just ate something bad,” I choke out. “Please. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’m not leavin’ you.”
I don’t deserve him.
I don’t deserve any of this.
My gagging turns to sobs, and I press my hands over my face, wanting to scream just to ease some of the pain inside my soul.
“Chloe, what’s goin’ on? You’re not tellin’ me something.”
“It’s nothing,” I whisper, pushing to my feet.
I turn away from him, but he reaches out, stopping me.
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. You have been weird for months now, and I want to know why.”
“Let me go,” I snap, jerking my arm from his grips.
He releases me, but that doesn’t stop the confused, partially angry expression that flitters across his face.
“What the fuck is goin’ on? Talk to me.”
“I don’t ... I can’t.”
With that, I turn and rush out.
He tries to stop me, but I’m too fast.
Climbing into my car, I speed away.
I drive until every last tear has spilled from my eyes and landed on my shirt.
I want to drive until the road ends, and I can just roll off the end, never coming back.
I want the world to swallow me whole, to take away this pain.
Maybe I will turn myself in, because maybe then I’ll get what I deserve.
I’m a coward.
A pathetic coward.
I don’t deserve this life.
UNKNOWN – I KNOW WHAT you did.
Staring down at my phone screen, chills run up my spine as I read the message repeatedly, certain it must be a mistake.
Maybe it’s a wrong number.
Maybe it isn’t what I’m thinking at all.
I reply, desperately praying I’ve got it wrong.
C – Who is this?
Unknown – Your worst nightmare. I know it was you. I saw you. Murderer.
No.
This must be a mistake.
I was alone out there on the road.
I was alone.
Except ... Jeannie had someone with her. Is this who is messaging me? That person remained anonymous and told the police he didn’t see anything. Was he lying? I didn’t see him, I didn’t even know he was there, so how would he have seen me?
Did someone else drive past and I just didn’t notice? No.
It can’t be.
It’s a mistake.
C – I don’t know who you are, but you have the wrong number.
Unknown – No Chloe. I don’t.
I’m going to be sick.
My palms are sweating, and my fingers are trembling.
C – Who is this?
Unknown – Your worst nightmare. I think you owe me for what you did to her. I want something and you’re going to get it for me or I’ll take you straight to the police.
What is happening?
What the hell is happening?
I’m dreaming.
This must be a dream.
I can’t be awake.
This can’t be real.
C – What do you want?
Unknown – Money. A lot of money. That little club you love so much has plenty of it. You’re going to get it for me, or the police will be visiting very soon.
C – They don’t have money. Leave me alone. Please.
Unknown – I can’t do that. You play my way or I’ll make the call.
C – I’ll just go to the police myself. I won’t help you.
Unknown – Go on then. I’ll wait.
Screaming, I launch my phone across the room.
Who is this monster?
Why does he or she want to torment me?
I don’t have money.
I have nothing.
And yet, they seem to know enough about me to know that I won’t go to the police. They know I don’t want to spend my life in prison. They know how afraid I am and they’re using it against me. They’re making sure that I do as they ask because they know what I did. Someone out there knows what I did. I’m not safe. If I don’t do what this person is asking, the world is going to know what I did.
My niece will know.
Colt will know.
My family will know.
Everyone I love will forever see me as a cold-hearted monster who ran from something she should have stuck around for.
They’ll never forgive me.
Dropping to my knees, I put my head in my hands, and I cry.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
If I go to the police, my entire life is over. Everything I’ve ever worked for will be gone. I can’t live like that. I can’t ... I just can’t.