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)
My stomach knots with unease, and I take the leap, darting toward the stairwell before wrenching open the access door. It’s creepy as fuck, but I forge ahead, not allowing myself a moment to linger on the fear.
The faster I run, the quicker I’ll be out.
My feet slam against the old stairs, and the sound of my heavy breaths is almost deafening as I fly past the first flight. I try to listen for any other noises while keeping my gaze locked on my path, terrified of taking a misstep and falling.
The second flight of stairs passes in a blur, but the third feels like a whole fucking lifetime passes before I finally reach the floor I’m searching for. Then as I emerge onto the main floor of the deserted hospital, a sense of ease pounds through my veins.
There are a few people wandering around; night nurses and doctors. It’s long after visiting hours, and the emergency department is in a different wing of the hospital. It’s always busy over there, no matter what time of the day or night it is. But this little section of the hospital generally offers peace. Only right now, that peace couldn’t be further away.
Despite feeling somewhat at ease, I don’t slow my pace as I race through the hospital. The few people wandering around glance my way, but not one of them stops to ask me what’s going on. Truth be told, I probably wouldn’t have entertained their questions in the first place. Seeing random people in scrubs running through the hallways of a hospital isn’t entirely an odd occurrence. Most of the time, you shuffle aside and let them pass while minding your own business.
I break out into the unusually cool September night, but the adrenaline keeps me from dwelling on it as I hurry toward the parking garage. When I arrived earlier in the evening, it was almost impossible to find a space, but now, after midnight, my little Honda Civic is one of the only cars in the lot.
As I hurry toward it, I dive into my bag, feeling around for my keys. Only as I get closer, I realize the internal lights are on, and for the second time tonight, I come to a dead stop.
No. No fucking way.
This is not happening.
I back away from the car as my every nightmare becomes a startling realization. There are a million reasons why the lights could be on. I could have simply not locked up properly or forgotten to turn them off when I checked my reflection in the visor mirror. Yet despite that, I’m not willing to take the risk.
I’m not becoming a statistic tonight.
Instead, I bolt around to the other side of the hospital, keeping to the busier pathways, each of them brightly lit with streetlights, until I finally reach the emergency room. People are everywhere—patients feeling sorry for themselves, doctors, nurses, irritated family members who would rather be anywhere but here in the middle of the night.
The rush of people offers me an out, and I collapse into one of the many chairs of the waiting room as the sounds of sick and injured patients fill the air. Coughs and groans would usually send me running for the hills, but tonight, I find it comforting.
After convincing myself to abandon my Civic for the night and have security check it out tomorrow, I book an Uber and wait. Tonight hasn’t exactly gone as planned, but now that I’m out of there, I can try to regain some semblance of control.
I’m annoyed that I didn’t get a chance to finish my report. I make a habit of being punctual with my work. I don’t like getting behind or letting work pile up, especially when those reports could potentially help put a murderer behind bars. Letting down the team isn’t my forte, but I’m sure they’ll understand.
My Uber arrives only a few minutes later, and I rush into the car the moment I can. The driver steps on the gas, and I sink into the leather seat, knowing I won’t completely feel at ease until I get home to my small apartment.
Shit. Home. Laith is supposed to be coming over.
I cringe and bring up his information in my phone, not even able to smile at his contact name. I hit call and lift the phone to my ear before hearing Laith’s deep tone sailing through the little speaker. “Shit, tiger. Couldn’t wait till the end of your shift? Are you that desperate for me?”
Damn. Why does he have to make this so hard?
“Hey,” I say slowly, knowing he can immediately sense that something is off. “I’m sorry. It’s been a weird night at work. Raincheck?”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
My lips press into a hard line, twitching and stretching as I try to figure out what the hell to say. But as I sit in the back of the Uber with the driver more than capable of listening to my conversation, I feel like now isn’t exactly the best time to get into the details. “It’s just—”