Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I’m going to die on this cold floor in excruciating pain and soaked in my own piss.
I’ll never see Gemma or my dads or Dax again.
This is it.
I hope I go quickly.
Owen stops, his entire body trembling, and uses the bottom of his T-shirt to swipe the sweat off his brow. He releases it and then swings the shovel up again. I brace for impact, waiting for the final, deadly blow.
Pop!
The shovel clatters to the cement, but I don’t hear it because my ears are now ringing. Owen staggers away back toward Gemma, out of my line of sight. I hear her shrieking over the ringing in my ears, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Darkness clouds my vision and I fixate on a droplet of blood on the ground. My blood? His?
It’s then I see a man, squatting in front of me. Not Owen. Someone else. He’s speaking to me, but I can’t seem to make out the words.
“Tristan Sheridan?” the man says as he fumbles with his belt. “Stay with me, buddy. I’m going to uncuff you and free your hands. Eyes on me. I’m Officer Holt. You’re safe now.”
I blink at him in confusion. Officer? The cops are here?
“Sit rep,” a familiar female voice barks out. “Holt, how are we doing over there?”
“Vic is alive,” he says back as he shoves the key into the handcuffs. “Contusions around his wrists and his ankle’s sitting a funny kind of way, Detective.”
More police officers flood into the cellar, guns drawn, searching for threats.
“Suspect still has a pulse,” the woman hollers. “Where’re the ambulances?”
“En route,” another man assures her. “Ma’am, how’s the girl? She alive?”
“Gemma is alive, but we’re looking at a possible sexual assault,” the woman says back. “They’re both alive. Someone get Tanaka on the line and let him know we have them.”
More people rush in, these wearing EMT uniforms. My vision grows hazy as they assess my injuries. The comforting cadence of their reassuring voices has me fading into nothingness.
We’ve been rescued.
“If you can’t get up and use the toilet,” a woman says, “we’ll need to do a catheter. Come on, Mr. Sheridan. Open those eyes. Your dads are here.”
The mention of my dads has me struggling to fully wake. I wince against the harsh light. It only takes a few moments to realize I’m in a hospital room and the woman is a nurse. My dads hover nearby, both of them red-faced from crying. At seeing them, a sob catches in my throat.
“Oh my God,” Dad chokes out, rushing over to me. “My sweet baby boy. You’re still here with us. Daddy’s here.”
I’m in pain from head to toe, but it’s shrouded by whatever they’re pumping into my veins. The pain I’m feeling right now is in my chest.
“Gemma?” I rasp out, grimacing at the sharp stab in my ribs.
“She’s okay,” Pops assures me, eyes locking on mine. “Her parents are with her down the hall.”
Tears flood down my cheeks but not from pain. I’m relieved to know we made it out alive. We fucking made it out.
“He was going to kill me and do awful things to her.” I swallow hard and my chin wobbles. “I was scared. So fucking scared.”
Dad gently squeezes my hand. Bandages cover both of my wrists. I wonder what other injuries I sustained.
“I know you all are happy to see him now that he’s coherent,” the nurse says, “but I’d like to get him up and over to the bathroom. I’ve got a crutch for him to use.”
I shoot Pops a questioning look.
“Your ankle,” Pops says with a frown. “They’re going to have to do surgery on it once you’re out of the woods from your internal injuries. It’s in a bright orange cast for now.”
My bladder throbs and I wonder how this nurse knew I had to pee. Grunting, I attempt to sit up, but then more pain shoots through me.
“Can you give him something?” Dad asks, terror in his voice. “He’s in agony.”
“I gave him something a few minutes ago through his IV. This pain is something he’ll have to work through. The quicker we get him up and moving like normal, the quicker he’s going to start healing.”
Pops frowns and Dad rolls his eyes. My heart lurches with happiness. They’re here with me and everything’s going to be okay.
We spend the next twenty minutes painfully getting me out of the bed, onto a crutch, and hobbled into the bathroom. Pops remains to help me stand as I do my business while Dad and the nurse wait outside the closed door. Once I finish, Pops kisses my head and swallows a strangled sob that makes my eyes well up all over again.
An eternity later, I make my way back to the bed and relax my hurting body.
Knock! Knock!