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)
I need Vincent back stat. I hope this is only a temporary situation.
The longer he’s here, the more he seems to give me the creeps, though not in the same way my stalker does. This is different. The new janitor seems like the kind of guy who would rob you blind and spit on you when he was done. My stalker is more of the . . . Well, I think it’s clear what type of man my stalker is.
God. That club was fun. It shouldn’t have been, but it was.
Am I sick for wanting to do it again?
The janitor seems to linger longer than necessary, and every time he wanders close to me, I grip my trusty pen, more than ready to plunge it deep into the side of his neck if need be. His eyes on my back are unsettling, and I’m pissed off that I can’t focus on my work at all.
Now I know I’ve done some questionable things over the past few days, but dropping to my knees for a man like this? Absolutely not. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’s about to get something out of me.
My computer screen goes into sleep mode, the dark screen allowing me to see everything behind me like a mirror, and just as the janitor sweeps back around toward me, the soft beep of the morgue doors sounds through the room.
I let out a heavy breath and relax my hold on my pen as the big doors open. The coroner walks in with two gurneys being pushed by hospital staff, two police officers, and one of the newer detectives I haven’t had a chance to get to know.
“Double homicide,” the coroner says as the bodies are delivered onto the autopsy tables.
I give him a tight smile, still feeling awkward with the janitor loitering, but I put it aside, certain I don’t need to be concerned now that there’s a room full of people, three of those being cops.
I move in beside the first body as the detective hands over a file and launches into an explanation of the murders, and just as expected, he follows up his summary with the typical declaration of just how quickly I need to prioritize these autopsies.
I nod and give false promises just like always, but honestly, there’s something that seems exciting about these cases. I glance at the clock on the wall as the cops and the hospital staff file back out of the room, and seeing that I have just enough time to get both of these autopsies done and will have time to write up their reports before the end of my shift, I reach for a pair of gloves.
The coroner is just walking out as I reach for the zipper at the top of the body bag. The janitor pauses in the middle of the room, gaping at me in disgust. “The fuck? You’re not going to do that shit while I’m here.”
Having had enough of this asshole, I pull the zip right down to expose the body. “You’re in a morgue. This is what we do,” I tell him, not even bothering to look up as I reach for a scalpel, despite not even being close to needing it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. “If you can’t handle it, there’s the door.”
I glance up to find his face scrunched and pure evil reflected in his eyes as he grips the handle of his mop like a weapon, and so I simply open the body bag wider, watching as his face turns an uncomfortable shade of green.
“If you don’t mind,” I say, bringing the tip of the scalpel to the victim’s chest, despite him still being fully clothed. “I need to get started.”
The asshole gags, and I roll my eyes as he bails on whatever fresh bullshit he was about to throw my way. He races out of the morgue with his cart dragging behind him and his tail tucked between his legs in shame.
I scoff. What a loser. I just hope that Vincent will be back tomorrow.
Having a little peace and quiet, I put the scalpel down and get to work properly, removing the body from the bag, and as I take in the victim’s face, I pause, my back going stiff.
“No,” I breathe, my eyes widening in horror, seeing the face of the man I was dancing with in the club the other night, still wearing the same clothes that rubbed up against my body, the same clothes I spilled my cocktail on.
Horror blasts through me, and I quickly search the body for any signs of trauma, trying to figure out what the hell happened to him. When I saw him last, he was perfectly fine. He was going to the men’s room with the idea that he was about to get lucky.