Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63410 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Wanting to keep him talking so I can buy myself more time, I ask, “Henry, what do you mean by you felt it coming on?”
Pulling up one leg, he positions himself into a more comfortable pose. He lowers his head and glances sideways at me, resting his forearm on his knee.
“Well, it’s hard to describe…” he clears his throat, “…to put into words. It’s not like I blacked out…” Swallowing, he glances at me, “…or felt like I was possessed.” He clears his throat again, his mouth slightly arching higher. “I remember every moment in detail.” He lifts his other hand to his face and rubs his pointer finger over his left eyebrow. “What they looked like, what they wore, how they smelled.” Lifting his head, his eyes lock on me for a fraction of a second. “I get to keep them forever that way. Just like we’ll always be together.”
Everything about him is so casual, it’s unnerving. It feels like he’s trying to distract me with his movements.
“Them? How many victims have there been, Henry?”
He looks annoyed for a moment. “A couple… fifteen… no, seventeen.”
The breath stalls in my throat.
He’s murdered so many people, and knowing this, kills the tiny seed of hope I’ve been nurturing in my chest.
He must see the horror on my face because his smile falters. “I mean, the thing is…” He seems to recover as the tension eases from his features, leaving him looking charismatic again, “what is your passion? You know? If you get to do the one thing you love most in this world.” His gaze lingers on me for longer this time. “You’re so present in the moment…” he lightly shakes his head, a chuckle escaping, “it’s as if… you’re in control of everything.”
My breaths become short puffs, each one laced with dread, and I feel my defenses rearing to life. “How would you feel if someone killed one of your loved ones?”
“Oh…” he smirks, “I certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“But…but,” I stammer, “You murder innocent people. You take them from their families. How can you do that to another person?”
“Oh… I have an answer for that.” He sits up straighter, excitement flashing across his face. “It’s been smacked up inside my head a time or two. You know? I’ve thought hard about that.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “But there’s this sensation of watching the life drain away from someone. You can almost taste the air changing.”
Absolutely horrified and repelled by what he’s saying, I ask, “Don’t you regret it? Don’t you feel some sort of… remorse for what you have done?”
“Well, the first time…” he tilts his head, thinking. “I can still see it in slow motion.” His lips curve up. “The morning after I was shocked,” he nods as he looks directly into my eyes, “I felt awful,” dropping his eyes, he wets his lips again, “but after that, it became more routine. You know? The rush faded.”
I never take my eyes away from him, and with every word leaving his mouth, with every gesture – it makes it clear this man has no feelings.
He’s mimicking the expression and actions he knows will put me at ease.
Realizing that all the talking in the world isn’t going to stop him from killing me, it makes shivers race over my body as I begin to tremble uncontrollably.
He's so observant of my reactions and feelings that his facial expression changes to being guarded, as I’m overcome with angst and desperation.
“Well…” he clears his throat and shifts his body into a crouching position. Giving me a tender smile, he continues, “I suppose it’s time.”
I push myself back against the gate, and it makes him slowly inch closer. The moment he’s close enough, I begin to kick out at him, and it has him holding up his hands. “Don’t panic. It will be quick.”
He lunges at me, and it tears a desperate scream from me. His body towers over mine, and I see a flash of pain on his face as I manage to knee him where it hurts most.
Anger darkens his face until it shows the real monster hiding behind the façade.
“You could’ve gone peacefully like the others.”
He uses more strength, which is by far greater than my own, and wraps his hands around my neck. Trying to defend myself, the cuffs cut into my right wrist when I yank on them.
“Just go peacefully.”
“No!” The word sounds garbled, and I first try to pry his hands away with mine, but when that doesn’t help ease his grip on my neck, I begin to hit and scratch his face. During our struggle, I manage to claw at his right eye, and it has him drawing back.
He first presses a hand to his face and checks for blood, then hisses, “Now look what you’ve done.”