CHAPTER 82
1152 Words
Cooper had never seen anything quite like it. Quite like her.
He imagined if you took the base of who someone was—if you
whittled down deep, past the empathy, and the love, you would get something a hell of a lot like Calla Parker.
From only a few paces down the hall, Cooper watched as she
crushed Cory's windpipe between her fingers.
Kill him. Please, just kill him and be done with it.
"What's happening?" Vincent asked from the other side of the
door. A gurgling scream pierced the air, and he heard an intake of
breath. " Cooper, what the hell is —"
"Shut up!" Cooper hissed, wriggling his left foot free. Vincent had
managed to pry the door open enough that the two thought he
might be able to squeeze his way out.
A little more, he thought, desperate. He braced his hands against
the edge of the door and hissed. The piece of glass he'd used to
try and break through the zip tie binding his wrists had done a
number of him.
All that work. All that pain—and for not a damn thing. The stubborn
plastic had refused to give when he and Vincent attempted to free
themselves, leaving both boys with gouges on their palms deep
enough to scar.
Girls like scars, right? Vincent had joked half-heartedly, his face
white as a sheet as he stared down at his bound—and now bloody
—hands.
Cooper hadn't had the heart to laugh. And he certainly wasn't
laughing now, stuck as he was between a metaphorical rock and a
hard place.
Definitely a hard place, he thought, his head swimming as he gave
another heave, popping his left leg free. How much blood had he
lost, anyway? His stomach lurched as he glanced at his mangled
hands spread along the edge of the door.
Don't look. Just don't lo —
He flinched as a loud c***k filled the air. His eyes flashed down the
hall, analyzing the dark shapes tangled on the floor. He prayed that
Cory hadn't noticed him.
He hadn't. His entire focus was on the girl beneath him—the girl
who was suddenly lying very still.
"Calla!" Cooper croaked. His ribs screamed in protest as he
redoubled his efforts to break free. One door down, Cory pushed
himself to his feet, his hands clutching his throat.
"What? What's wrong? Calla!" Vincent shouted, his voice breaking.
He couldn't see her, not by a long shot. But he could hear the
panic in Cooper's voice, and apparently, that was enough. "Where is she? What's happening?"
Cooper stared at the slim figure lying on the floor. His mouth went
dry.
"Coop?" Vincent rasped, his fingers grasping at the parts of Cooper
still stuck on the other side of the door. "Calla...what...where—"
Cooper didn't have the heart to tell him the truth. "She's fine," he
muttered instead, pulling his left shoulder free of the door. "She's
fine. She's fine, okay?"
Say it one more time, Coop. Maybe then you'll believe it.
"You're fine," he whispered, his voice cracking on the last syllable.
His throat tightened and he glared over at the spot where she'd
collapsed. "You have to be fine. You owe me, you b***h. You
promised. "
Cory slumped against the nearby wall, his head bowed. He hadn't
turned in Cooper's direction. Whatever Calla had done to him—
because Cooper was confident that the scream from before had
been his —had left him disoriented.
Disoriented and hopefully on the brink of death. Bastard.
Cooper gasped as, with one last tug, his hips slid free, followed
quickly by the rest. The momentum carried him forward, to
freedom, to pain.
Cooper felt the blood drain from his face as his ankle caught in the
door. An instant later, he felt a horrible pop in his heel. The kind of
pop a body part was definitely not supposed to make.
Shut up, Cooper. Shut up.
A mangled groan crawled up his throat, defying his orders. He bit
down on his lower lip until he tasted blood.
Tears blurred his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing
himself to take a deep breath. To calm. The hell. Down.
Haven't you learned anything from the movies, Coop? Never take
your eyes off of the monster in the dark.
His eyes snapped open —just in time to notice the black pistol
hovering inches away from the spot between his eyes.
" You," Cory hissed, a blood-soaked finger tightening around the
trigger. His left hand still clutched at his throat, coated with a layer
of something dark and slippery—
Cooper's stomach did a somersault.
" You are the problem!" Cory screamed, though it came out as a
sort of gurgle. He coughed, and flecks of the same dark liquid
spilling from throat splattered across his lips.
She tore it open, Cooper realized, struck with horrified awe. She
tore his throat...open.
Vincent shouted something indiscernible, straining against the
door. The wood groaned as he pushed his weight into it, his efforts
far more significant than Cooper's had been.
Cory smiled, his teeth coated with a film of blood. He pressed the
gun against Cooper's forehead. His nostrils flared. "Keep talking,
Townson. I'll blow his brains across your face."
The tension against the door eased. Cooper felt the door close
back on his ankle and he whimpered.
"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Cory murmured. A strange
rattling came from his throat with every intake of breath. "If I made
this quick. Hmm? Answer me, Daniels."
He gave another raspy cough. Cooper shrank back as blood
spattered across his left cheek.
"Do whatever you want," he hissed, unable to hide his disgust.
"Just don't cough on me again."
"What? It's just a scratch," Cory croaked, gaining control of
himself. He smiled grimly and dropped the other hand from his
throat, revealing the extent of the damage beneath.
Cory swallowed, and the exposed lining of his throat—soft and pink
and slick with his own blood—writhed. Flaps of skin hung loose,
the torn flesh ripped nearly down to the bone. Calla hadn't just
tried to break his neck, as Cooper had first thought. He could see
where she'd dug her thumbs into the soft spot above his
collarbone, and then yanked —
His stomach did another flip.
She didn't just want to kill him, Cooper realized, unable to look
away from the grisly sight. She wanted him to suffer.
Cory's eyes narrowed. He could see the wheels turning in
Cooper's head, see the revulsion painted in every line of his face.
"She's...she's just confused. She doesn't understand."
Vincent pressed against the other side of the door, straining to see
out into the hall. Cooper's heart sprang back into his throat. If
Vincent saw Cory, if he saw what she'd done ...
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