Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Because I’m betting the guys chasing me are part of another gang.
I slow down so they’re almost on my heels. The runner catches up to me first, and I armbar him, sending him flying to the ground.
Some pissed off yells come from behind me.
“We’re gonna fuck you up!”
“You can’t run forever, you little bitch!”
They’re right about one thing. I can’t run forever.
But we’re almost across the yard, and I see the guard’s eyes widen in real fear now that a gang full of inmates is stampeding toward him. He grabs his radio off his belt and starts shouting into it.
Everyone in the yard is watching now, ready for my blood. But mine isn’t gonna be the first blood spilled today.
I run straight into the middle of the other gang, zero in on the biggest motherfucker in the group sitting near the back, and smash him in the face with my fist.
Everyone roars and converges on me in the next second. I try to stay upright but can only manage long enough to see the gang rushing the field to chase me clash with the one I ran into. Just as I’d hoped.
Then I’m taken down in a halo of furious fists and kicking feet.
Pain explodes everywhere at once, and I grunt as my body absorbs each blow.
I put my thick arms above my head to protect my skull, even though it means exposing my ribs.
“Fuck!” I roar as one especially brutal kick definitely breaks some ribs. My chest screams with pain the next time I try to suck in a breath. I’ve got to get the fuck out of the center of the violence.
Because just like I hoped, when the two gangs met, it turned into an all-out street brawl. Chaotic. This isn’t my first tango. I start army crawling in between people’s feet. If there’s one thing I know about a brawl, it’s that folks are genuinely too distracted by the next fist coming at their face to keep track of some random guy at their feet.
“Don’t let him get away!” someone shouts.
Fuck. Unless I’m not just some random guy. Did they have orders to target me?
A riot alarm sounds throughout the jail. Thank fuck. Now if I can just stay in one piece long enough for the rescue parade to get here.
I see prisoners start to line up, facing the fence with their hands behind their head. Must be protocol.
Fuck, as much as I hate bureaucracies, sometimes I do love protocol. Especially when it could mean saving me from the worst of this beatdown.
I haul myself to my feet, each breath a knife to the lungs. All in all, though, I haven’t made off too badly. Just a little farther.
I’m about to make a break for the fence when suddenly, I’m grabbed from behind and flung into the mud.
At first, I can only groan, but then I look up with bleary vision into the furious face of the man I first punched.
“Oh shit.”
There’s not even time before he’s raining down blows. I lose consciousness the fifth or sixth time he smashes into my jaw with his heavy fist.
FIFTY-THREE
KIRA
I feel sick from worrying about Isaak.
Not knowing what’s happening to him and just imagining the worst, hour by hour? It’s twisted my already-nauseaus stomach into even more knots.
Jump out the window.
Stab Drew in the eye with a fork.
Stab yourself in the thigh with a fork.
Why are my intrusive thoughts so obsessed with forks? God! Why not knives? It’s obviously the more logical stabbing utensil. But forks have all those lovely little sharp, stabby tines.
Sharp stabby tines. Sharp stabby tines. Sharp stabby. Sharp stabby. Sharp stabby. Sharp stabby. Sharp-stabby-sharp-stabby-sharp-stabby-sharp-stabby—
Ugh! I grab my head in my hands and crouch on the floor of the bedroom where Drew has stashed me.
I need to stop imploding and focus my rage on fucking Drew.
Fucking Drew. Fucking Drew. Fucking Drew. Fucking Drew.
He’s gone back to pretending everything’s normal. Oh yeah. It’s so normal to be locked up in his house, where he’s keeping me prisoner until the wedding.
Does he think that’s just how it’ll be from now on? That I’ll be docile and obedient?
This is fucking ridiculous.
He hasn’t even mentioned when Isaak’s getting out. I’m not walking down that goddamned aisle until I get some assurances.
Plus… I want to see Isaak again before the wedding. No, I need to see him.
I breathe out and look down at my feet where I’m still crouched. For Isaak to be safe, he’s got to be long gone. If he does something stupid like show up at the wedding—
There’s literally no telling what Drew might do to him.
Isaak’s not safe here. He’s not safe around me. Or my world. He never was, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes except me.
I was daydreaming, thinking I could escape. Because this always was my world, wasn’t it? I just didn’t have eyes to see the box for what it really was.