Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Someone grabs my arm and drags me to the floor. I’m aware of the ground shaking, of the ringing and pain in my ears. I can feel warm liquid trailing from my ear. But I don’t focus on any of it, because now, the boy I killed is barely inches away and he’s staring at me, his glassy eyes promising torturous retribution. Reaching out, I close his eyes, tears tracking down my cheeks as I wonder if he has a mother who will miss him. War…it seems heroic, poetic even, a fight for a righteous cause, but how righteous can this be?
Something slides under my stomach, and I’m hauled off my feet and away from the dead boy. Fire and smoke and dead bodies are everywhere. Only when I’m shoved in the back seat of a car, do I blink and see Rafael’s face. He cups my cheeks, staring at me with a worried expression. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. He tilts my head to the side and touches a finger to my ear, making me wince.
He starts checking me over, patting down my arms and body, his brows drawing tighter together with each passing second. His mouth is moving as he talks to someone else, but I look away, glancing out of the window. Something in me is cracking, and ugly black ooze is pouring out. Guilt locks around my throat in a chokehold, a lead weight pulling me into cold, ruthless waters. Tears pour down my face uncontrollably, and my hands shake, so I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold myself together.
Run-down buildings pass us by as we speed through Juarez. I close my eyes, and all I see are someone else’s—dead, the ghostly mist creeping over the pupils.
68
Anna
I barely register the drive back to the warehouse. Rafael picks me up, tucking me against his chest as though I weigh nothing. I don’t fight him for once. Resting my cheek against his shoulder, I inhale the scent of citrus and cigar smoke that clings to his shirt, but it’s laced with the distinctive hint of smoke and burning. Death and destruction.
He finally puts me down in his bathroom, the lines of concern written all over his face. He places a wet cloth to my ear, and I catch a brief glimpse of myself in the small bathroom mirror. My face is covered in a fine layer of soot, tear tracks cutting lines through the black. My hair is streaked with dirt and blood, and bruises are beginning to blossom over my jaw. A trail of crusted blood is coming from my left ear, and a high-pitched ringing is all I can hear.
He continues to wipe the blood away before he grabs my tank and slowly pulls it over my head. I allow him to strip me out of my clothes, and watch him removed his own before he pulls me into the shower. The hot water washes over me, hiding the tears that I can’t seem to stop. The water turns a filthy brown, dragging the night’s events down the drain with it. Or at least I wish it would. Rafael washes my hair, scrubbing the shampoo into my scalp carefully and rinsing it. I stand there in a numb state of shock as he cleans my bruised body before washing the dirt and blood from his own. When he’s done, he wraps me in a towel and even dries my hair, finally dressing me in one of his over-sized shirts. I’m just numb, like a puppet he’s directing through basic motions. I’ve been here before, but for very different reasons. He guides me to the edge of the bed before going to the door and allowing someone into the room. I frown at the doctor. I don’t like him. I haven’t since the very first time I met him, and he drugged me.
I go to move and Rafael smirks, placing a hand on my shoulder and pushing me back down. I stare at him as the doctor grabs my face, tilting my head to the side. He puts something in my ear, and I wince away as sharp pain radiates through my head. He exchanges words with Rafael and hands him some pill bottles, then he’s gone. My lack of hearing is annoying and some what isolating. I’m left in my own private vault of ringing and rampant thoughts.
After making me take the pills, he pulls me against his chest and strokes his hand over my hair, lulling me into sleep. The tears never really stop.
I’m standing in the darkness again, and my pulse races as my lungs frantically reach for air. Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself, even as I wait for The Master to make his grizzly appearance. A hand touches my arm, and I flinch.