Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
They say that the only people who can break your heart are the ones whom you’ve gifted a piece to. In my case, Huff doesn’t own my heart—I do—but he definitely has an all-access pass. He always has. Maybe he always will. But I won’t have a shot at a torment-free life if I don’t try to break this bond—this thing between us—that’s been there since childhood.
With tears in my eyes, I carefully slide away from his warm body and stand over him, my heart breaking. I lean over and kiss his soft lips, lingering just long enough to soak in their warmth. “I love you. Goodbye.”
I grab my purse and shoes, and I slip out the front door. I gulp down a sob as I push my bare feet into my pink Converse and hike up to the main road. I want to go back. I want to shake him hard and tell him to wake up. Not from his sleep but from his blindness.
How can he give up on us so easily? I’m a big girl and accept the risks of being with him.
But this is the story of us.
He’s blinded by fear, while I see possibilities. I see what we could’ve been.
I flag down a rusty, smog-spewing bus on the two-lane road, heading into town. I speak Spanish but pretend not to. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. I just want to hold it together and get through what comes next: forgetting Hudson Ulysses Ferris.
Huff
My eyes fly open the moment I hear the front door close. I rush to the window and spot River hopping on one foot, trying to get her pink Converse on.
I run to the door and stop, my hand twitching with the urge to twist the knob. I want to tell her not to go. I want to say I’ll do whatever it takes to carve out a space for us in this world, but I can’t do it. She’ll always be collateral damage waiting to happen.
I drop my hand from the doorknob and return to the window, watching River disappear up the muddy path. I know she’ll be okay. Her future is bright because she’s bright.
Me? I’ve got another path to take.
I glance over my shoulder at the back door. “You know what you have to do, Huff,” I tell myself.
I go outside and grab my fishing rod. Time to kill stuff.
CHAPTER NINE
I’ve finally worked my way up to a small boar. It screamed. It bled all over my jeans. I may have cried a little. Fine, I sobbed like a complete jackass, but at least I finished the job.
I then dressed the animal, following a video I watched online, and dropped the pig with an old man about a mile up the road who has a smokehouse. He doesn’t know me, and I don’t know him, but his jerky is legendary around here. I figured if anyone would know what to do with the meat, it would be him.
All I can say is that I have a new appreciation for all the slices of peperoni I’ve eaten on my pizzas over the course of my life. Meat isn’t just a product found in a grocery store. It had a life once. Not a new fact for me, but it never felt real until now. Weird, I know.
Also weird? I haven’t heard any news about Morris. Maybe it’s been harder than he thought to perfect the formula. In any case, I’ve appreciated this extra time to hone my murder skills.
I’ve also been texting with Kyle for a few weeks, trying to set up a visit with Mom and Dad. I want to explain, face-to-face, my choice to end my life. Not that they’ll ever understand, but I want them to at least hear my reasoning. After I kill Morris, I can’t fall into the wrong hands.
Of course, Kyle doesn’t know what I’m planning. Only River knows.
River… I sigh. Kyle didn’t say much about her visit other than he made sure no one followed her and that he had no choice but to let her see me. She plays a mean game of hardball, he’d texted.
Don’t I know it.
It’s the end of the day, and I’ve read through my list of new medical studies related to the “Morris survivors.” Nothing helpful. I’ve also been keeping tabs on all the conspiracy theories about the Eiffel Tower’s perma-flame. (Act of God? Gimmick to entice tourism? Vandalism?) People aren’t buying it’s related to a movie.
Good for them. Always question what you hear in the news.
Finally, I finish the last few chapters of an ebook I got on The History of Genetic Mutations: Man’s Experimental Chemicals. Pretty frightening stuff, though, now I understand that Morris’s work was based on almost a hundred years of nutjobs trying to create superhumans. World War I was kind of the kickoff to a never-ending science experiment. The question is, what was a company like MJP, which makes sports drinks and performance-enhancing supplements, doing with Morris? Why hire him?