Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Tears well in my eyes, pooling before falling over the side of my face, and I hastily blink them away before swiping at my wet cheeks.
The door outside the morgue continues to rattle, continues to beep with every denied swipe of the access card, and for a fleeting moment, I think that I might just get out of this unscathed. My chest heaves, the sound of my heavy, terrified breaths taunting me that I’ll give myself away.
Why me? What does he want?
I’m just a normal girl trying to make it in the world. I’m nothing special, nobody to obsess over and watch through hacked cameras. There’s nothing interesting about me, nothing to capture someone’s attention. I’m just Harper-Rayn Madden, a nobody who’s terrified of commitment.
The horrid smell of death lingers thick in the air, and I do what I can to drown it out: closing my eyes and focusing solely on the noises coming from outside as the beeping and rattling finally come to a stop. My back stiffens, and I listen closer, trying to track the sound of footsteps going up and down the hall, but I can’t figure it out.
Is he gone? Am I safe?
Seconds turn into minutes, and just when I think that everything is going to be okay, the footsteps return, coming closer and closer until they’re right outside the morgue door again.
“No. No. No. No. No.”
My heart lurches for the tenth time in as many minutes, and I grip the edges of the steel roller table, my knuckles turning white. This can’t be happening.
The chill of the refrigeration unit bites into my bones, and as I close my eyes and will my racing heart to calm, a soft beep sounds through the morgue. My stomach sinks with dread and not a moment later, the automatic lock releases and the door pushes open.
I hold my breath, terrified to make a single noise, and as tears roll freely down the side of my face into my hair, I listen as someone welcomes themself into the morgue, leaving the door open behind them. The seconds seem to drag on, every footstep killing something deep within.
The steps are too heavy to be a woman, too purposeful to be the janitor, Vincent. It has to be the sick bastard who’s been fucking with me night after night. I mean, shit. He’s made a streak. Why fuck with that now? Three for three, right?
I should have listened to Knight. I should have spoken to Dr. McKullan and been moved off the night shift. But all that would achieve is having one of the other girls put straight into this position, and if anything happened to any of them because of my mystery black rose stalker, I’d never forgive myself.
It has to be me. This shit started with me, and it’s sure as fuck going to end with me. Knight is going to figure this out. He’s going to find this asshole and put him away for the rest of his goddamn life, and if he happens to receive just a smidge of bodily harm in the process, I won’t be mad about it.
I listen as the man makes his way around the morgue, moving from one side to the other, lingering at my desk, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing over there. Making a copy of my apartment keys? Giving a rim job to the mouthpiece of my water bottle like a sick fuck?
This isn’t helping to keep me calm.
The cold starts to ache, and my body violently shivers as the footsteps move again, and just when I think it’s over, just when I think he’s about to make his way out of the morgue and leave me the hell alone, the footsteps grow closer.
I hear something dragging across the front of the refrigeration unit, inching closer and closer until it’s right outside my locker. My heart pounds frantically, and I clench my eyes closed and hold my breath, trying to be as quiet as possible.
This is it. This is how I die.
I’m not ready. There’s so much I haven’t done, so much of the world I haven’t seen. I haven’t even had a chance to tell my mother to go screw herself. Well, I kind of did, but I only stabbed the knife through her back. I haven’t had the chance to twist it. And as for Jonah, I know our relationship has been strained for all these years, but it would kill him if something were to happen to me. I need a chance to mend that relationship before life is brutally stolen from me.
The tears flow faster as I continue holding my breath, having to awkwardly let it go before trying to hold it again in my effort to remain quiet.
The handle of my locker rattles for just a second, and I curse myself for being so foolish. He has access to the morgue cameras, of course he knows exactly where I’m hiding. How could I be so stupid?