Page 51 of Genesis

I smile, looking back at the road. We ride, listening to music, and I tell her my plans about remodeling the house. She tells me where she’s going to college when she graduates and says she’s already taking college courses.

“That’s good, Bexley. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Oh, I love this song.” She turns up the volume.

“What the hell is this?’” I ask.

“‘Mr. Brightside,’” she says.

I lift a brow.

“The Killers?” she questions. “You don’t know The Killers?”

“I know a lot of killers,” I reply.

She frowns, hitting me in my chest. I act like it hurt.

“Not funny.”

“It was a little funny,” I say, catching her hiding a smile. She rolls her eyes and dances in the seat, singing and puckering her lips at me when the lead singer croonsit was only a kiss.I chuckle at her, looking back at the road, thinking I’ve never been happier.

Chapter Twenty-One

Bexley

Five days missing

“Bexley, you’re not going to die.”

“How can you say that?” I ask him as I push off the wall and sniff, rubbing my nose across my cotton-covered shoulder. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Who’s going to find us out here? We have no phone, no water, nothing. Oh, wait.” I cluck my tongue. “We do have a complete psychopath who wants to kill everyone you love, including me, because of something you did, which you have no clue about. Am I correct on that?”

He nods. “You’re correct.”

“Do you even have a notion? I mean, this is big. This man has gone through a lot of trouble. Surely something you’ve done in the past comes to mind?”

He shakes his head, looking up for a moment.

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.” I nod sarcastically and lean my head back against the wall.

This man.

He probably has no idea because he’s done so much shit he can’t keep count. There’s no telling how many enemies he has. I exhale defeat as my stomach growls even though the man gave us both a few bites of food. It’s shit, though. It does nothing to help give us energy. In only a few days, we’ve both lost weight, and fatigue is so strong at this point, I could sleep for ages.

“Can you stand up?” he asks me.

“Well, I’ve gone to the bathroom, so I know I can walk, but my legs are killing me.”

“Well, get on with it then.”

“Don’t be pushy,” I scowl.

He exhales, pulling his shoulders back as I lean against the wall and slowly slide up it. My muscles are tired, my bones shaky. I wince as I stretch them out and make them hold my weight just like I do every time the stranger takes me to the bathroom.

You know how when you sleep on your arms wrong for a while and it hurts to move them? Yeah, this shit is ten times worse than that. When you stop using your body as much as it’s used to, it becomes weak.

I clench my teeth and hurry up the wall. “Good girl,” Danny says once I’m up straight.

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