Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
A third officer pops out from the trees to block me from any further attack when Damien races to my side. He drops to his knees, cradling my wounded body. “Jesus Christ. Are you okay?” It’s still dark and hard to fully see. His hands roam my body, and I scream out when he hits my thigh. “I need a fucking medic! Now!” he howls, practically shaking the ground beneath me. “Tell me you’re okay. Please speak.”
I start to cry. I’m so relieved he’s here, but it settles in too quickly where I am and what I just endured.
“I need a fucking medic!” Damien shouts, his voice shaky. Bright lights explode around the woods, lighting up the area I’ve been a prisoner in. The brightness sets a pulse to my head, but I force myself to look around. Two officers kneel next to Jake’s body. In the far distance, someone is forcing an unstable blonde’s head into a police vehicle. I think I spot Christine, but I’m also very dehydrated and concussed, because I also think I see Elvis standing next to her. I inhale a ragged breath and bring my eyes back to the one person I worried I would never get to see again. His eyes are on fire, that amber glow making me feel safe.
Then I look at what he has on.
“Why are you in a set of hospital scrubs?”
“Long story.”
I try to sit up, but it’s impossible. The wooziness hits and white spots blur my vision. “Don’t try to get up. Please. Baby, just don’t move.”
I listen for once because I don’t have another choice. I feel so weak, and tired, and I just kind of want to sleep.
“Hey, Damien?” I call for him, using the last of my energy.
“Yeah, baby.”
“If I make it out of this, I just want to let you know I’m not opposed to role-playing. Keep the scrubs.” Before I get to hear his response, I black out.
Six months later…
“THANKS, I’LL LET HER KNOW. No, I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear. Thanks, Stephens. You too.” I hang up the phone and pour a large glass of scotch. I look at the time and know Jensen should be home any minute. Just as I take my first sip, I hear the door open to our small cottage off the Italian peninsula.
“Damien? You home?” she calls out, her voice doing things to me. It’s the sound of contentment and happiness when she’s near.
“I’m in the kitchen, pet.” I take another sip of my drink. She enters the small room and tosses her school bag on the table.
“Hi. I didn’t know if you’d be home or out scouting places to photograph.” She comes straight to me, placing her lips to mine.
“How was class?”
“It was stupefacente!” she boasts. Her Italian is almost perfect. When my girl wants something, she goes after it. Five short months, she has almost perfected the language. I kiss her again, and this time, she wraps her arms around me, giving me the closeness I crave.
“Celebrating something?” she asks, and I wonder what she’s referring to, then realize the scotch she tastes on my lips.
“Depends on how you see it.” She looks at me, trying to figure out my meaning. “Commissioner Stephens just called.”
Her smile falls. “What did he have to say?”
I worry about how she’ll take the news. It’s been a tough road getting her back to herself. I don’t want anything setting her back.
“Sylvia had her trial today.” I hate the name that dulls her smile. If I could go back in time, I would murder her myself, just so Jensen would no longer feel scared. We knew this day was coming. The last news we heard, Daddy was spending a lot of money to twist her condition and get her reduced time in a psych ward. She could be up for possible release in as little as three years. That didn’t sit well for either of us.
The night Jensen was rescued was one of the scariest nights of my life. Finding her in that condition still haunts me. But the information that was brought to our attention just before was even more disturbing. On the way to the woods, I called Commissioner Stephens and had him run Sylvia’s record. Turns out, she had spent most of her adolescence in a mental institution. She tried to kill her mother when she was a small child because her father showed more affection toward her mother instead of her. Her father covered it up, and Sylvia did her time. That was just one of many stunts she had gotten herself into that Daddy covered up. The obsession with Jensen was just another day in the life for her. When Christine went to Sylvia’s room to search for her, she discovered her obsession with me. Pictures of me everywhere. Snapshots of Jensen and I, with Jensen’s face scratched out or stabbed with a knife. Most had Sylvia’s face in her place. That’s how I knew how to approach her that night. And I thank God I did, because I think it saved Jensen’s life.