Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
This might not even work. God, the angle might be all—
The mirror caught the light, flashing through the window and directly across to Mrs. Willoughby. The old woman squinted and raised her hand.
Yes, yes, yes! Cami dropped the compact, and it fell back to the bed.
No. Fuck!
She picked the mirror back up again, trying desperately to control her breathing and her heart rate, both her excitement and her fear ratcheting up. It was working! Don’t let me fail. Please see this, and call the cops. Please understand. She used the mirror to flash Mrs. Willoughby again and watched as she squinted, her expression registering annoyance.
Cami tipped the mirror one way and then the other, shaking, but keeping the glare in Mrs. Willoughby’s eyes. She cursed herself for not knowing Morse code. But even if she did, Mrs. Willoughby probably wouldn’t, so what would it matter? Just keep signaling. Make her wonder.
The old woman bent her neck and used her hand as a visor as she looked up toward Cami’s window to see what the nuisance was. Cami tipped the mirror backward and then frontward, her legs beginning to shake again as she held them in position. Despite not knowing Morse code, she tried to flash the light in a way that seemed coordinated, rather than random. She desperately hoped Mrs. Willoughby would see that it was a flashing light, evenly spaced, controlled by a person. A person begging for help.
Please work. Please, please work.
Chapter Six
The two monsters were done with their dinner. She heard them both ascending the stairs.
Cami said a silent prayer and then flashed the light one more time, the sounds of footsteps just around the corner. She brought her feet down, intending on hiding the mirror under the blanket at the foot of the bed, but she moved too quickly and when she let go of the compact, it went sliding over the edge of the bed near the wall, landing noiselessly on the carpet. Shit!
Exhausted, she loosened her muscles and lay back.
“I gotta piss,” Trig said. “They probably do too. Should we take our pretty friends to the ladies’ room or what?”
“The little one in there didn’t bother to ask,” she heard AJ say. “She just wet the bed. Low-key, a turnoff, but I can get over it.” He laughed. It sounded loose, like the alcohol had made him fuzzy. Oh, Elle. Her poor, innocent, sensitive sister was so petrified she’d wet the bed. Or maybe she just couldn’t hold it. A lump of grief crushed her breastbone. Elle, I wish I could comfort you right now.
She listened as they each went into the bathroom in turn and then Trig came into the room, eyelids slightly lower. And he wasn’t wearing the paper mask. Somehow, she knew that that small slip of his “disguise” spelled doom for them. It hadn’t even really worked to cloak his features, but it might have allowed him to believe that it had. Now? Now that was no longer the case. She’d seen his unconcealed face—she’d know him if she saw him again. He tipped his beer back and drained the bottle and then set the empty on her dresser, belching loudly.
His gaze tracked slowly from her bare feet to the discarded shoes and socks on the floor. “Trying to get more comfortable? If you were ready to get undressed, you should have just told me. Oh, I guess you can’t.” He laughed. He had small square discolored teeth. Cami’s body trembled. Her mind didn’t feel like her own. It felt crowded and chaotic, and she was having trouble accessing her thoughts over the clamoring inside her head. He leaned in closer, and she turned away, nausea roiling in her belly. “Oh, you smell so delicious, sweet thing.”
Suddenly her mother’s ringtone sounded from downstairs, and Trig glanced over his shoulder. He paused, and Cami’s eyes widened as she watched him. Her eyes darted to the mirror across from her and saw that Mrs. Willoughby was gone from her garden.
She could only hold on to hope. She didn’t know how to let it die.
The phone stopped ringing and then a second later began again. Trig swore and left the room, and she listened as he went back downstairs. Then he came back up and went into the primary bedroom, where she heard him demand of her mother, “Fern Willoughby. Is she a problem? You didn’t have plans with her or anything tonight, did you? Lie, and I hurt your daughters.”
She barely heard her mother’s muffled confirmation that she had no plans with Mrs. Willoughby. Cami’s muscles had tensed with a renewed flare of hope. Their neighbor had seen the flashes of light, and now she was calling her mother to ask if everything was okay.
I love you, Mrs. Willoughby. Now call the police. You see our cars in the driveway, right? Are you checking right now?