Page 127 of Broken by my Bully
I dismiss the painting until I get close enough to make out the details. I thought it was an abstract, but it’s a high-contrast print of a black-and-white photograph, washed in a pinkish sepia.
It’s a photo of an electric chair, the wall behind it washed in deep shadow. There’s a small signboard near the top right of the wall, nearly indistinguishable.
SILENCE
I’m surprised this wasn’t included in Bastian’s presentation on cruel art the other week. Dante and Virgil have nothing on this cruelty. I look away from the chilling artwork and try the handle on Professor Rooke’s mystery door.
Screw that. I’ve made it this far. A silly photo won’t scare me off.
But the door is locked.
I jiggle the handle a few more times, and then stop, tilting my head at a sound. Rough texture brushes my skin as I carefully press my ear against the door and hold my breath.
There’s a low hum coming from the other side of the door.
Maybe it’s a generator or something. From the solar panels covering the roof, I assume this whole place is off-grid. Guess the electrical stuff has to go somewhere inside the house, and it’s not like this place has a basement.
click
I jerk away from the door.
That sounded like it was right by my ear.
Relax, Haven. It definitely was not the sound of an electric chair warming up.
But trying to reassure myself does nothing to slow my furiously pounding heart as I hurry out of Bastian’s study like the Devil is nipping at my heels. I shove the ice cream back in the freezer, toss the spoon in the sink, and bundle up my sundress with the notes Professor Rooke left for me to study.
My appetite for sleuthing, rocky road, and this head trip of a house has disappeared.
How bizarre.
A gust of icy wind hits me when I open the front door. I reluctantly turn around to fetch the hoodie I was wearing last night, pulling it over my head before leaving.
Now I just have to find my fucking car.
I’m almost disappointed when I spot the fender of my sedan peeking out between the trees. I’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, sticking to the road leading away from Bastian’s house so that I don’t get lost in the woods.
It must have stopped drizzling last night, because the ground, while a bit spongy, is pretty much dry again. But thank God for this hoodie, because I think my toes have frostbite. If I’d left that house without this warm top, I might have ended up in the hospital with hypothermia.
The car complains mightily when I start it up, so I let it idle a few minutes before urging it back onto the road.
I try really hard not to dwell on the fact that the last thing I remember before Bastian’s house was climbing over the barrier at Lookout Point.
I try really hard not to think about Kai, either.
I’m so busy keeping other stuff out of my head, Professor Rooke sidles in like he has every right to be there.
The soft, warm fabric of his clothing.
The scent of his body wash on my skin.
“Hush, Haven.”
The way his tongue felt when it slid over my skin?—
I slam on the brakes, and the car behind me hoots as it swerves around me.
My hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and I’m trembling as I detach one to flick on the hazard lights.
