Page 42 of Monster

I climbed off the bed, my vision hazy as if I were in a dream, and I went to the door.

I tried the doorknob.

Locked.

I knew it would be. Had already suspected it. And still, I couldn’t stop myself from reacting to it.

I looked up at the door and‌ found another lock on the inside just several inches higher than my head. This one didn’t look like it was locked, but I had a feeling it might be once I found myself trapped in here withhim.

I shivered at the thought.

What the hell was I going to do now?

The tears seeped out from the corners of my eyes.

I felt stupid, but given a chance to do this again, I still would have chosen to save Braxton.

Despite his monster father, Braxton was innocent, and he didn’t deserve to have gone through something so traumatic.

I turned around, leaning against the door, unsure if my own two feet could possibly hold me up any longer, and looked around the room.

At my new prison.

* * *

I didn’t knowhow much time had passed, but it couldn’t have been very long, considering it was still morning.

There was a clock on the nightstand, but I had flipped it facedown, unable to bring myself to watch the minutes tick by, counting down my execution.

Apparently, my time was up, because the doorknob twisted a bit before I heard the key being inserted into the keyhole, making my heart run into overdrive.

I felt light-headed, and I was afraid I would keel over, despite the fact that I was sitting down on the bed.

Don’t faint, don’t faint, don’t faint.

The door was slowly pushed open, revealing the big man standing there.

My, what vicious eyes you have.

I swallowed as he stared at me with his blue eyes, his face impassive and his arms relaxed at his side.

He looked at me as if I were an anomaly. As if he didn’t understand me.

I swallowed and looked down at the comforter, unable to hold his stare.

What the hell did he want with me?

“People will look for me,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. I was afraid if I spoke any louder, the fear would get to me, and I would either cry or puke.

I didn’t know which I hoped for the least.

He didn’t answer me right away, and the silence was somehow even more unnerving than if he had been angry or screaming at me.

At least with anger, I would know how he felt.

This silence told me nothing about the man.

“No, they won’t,” he said finally. I flinched at his blunt words.

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