Read Online Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series by A.R. Rivera - Free Book Online Page A

I guess, it’s a date?”
     
    “Not a date.” I shook my head, reluctantly
grinning. Evan seemed to possess a unique ability to drag a smile
out of me.

 
Terminal
    Fear. Four short letters for something so
crippling.
    Facing death isn’t the scary part. In
the many moments I’ve spent pondering what it must be like to die,
I’ve never considered the act more than simply going to sleep. It’s
the happening; the potential events leading to it that terrify me.
I’d prefer fast and painless—faster than asphyxia or drowning.
Once, I choked on a meatball when I was at home all by myself. A
complete airway obstruction. I couldn’t breathe and nothing else
mattered when that next breath couldn’t come. Inhaling reflexively,
I remember the feeling of knocking my abdomen against the counter
top until I threw up. I don’t much care for being beaten to death,
either, and I’m in no condition to put up much of a fight without
risking him. And I will not risk him.
    While praying for help, I am crushed
by guilt for my trespasses. Mistakes I’ve made flash before me. My
erroneous behavior that resulted in the video, my poor judgment,
the petty thoughts and jealousies. My fights with Lily and
Noah. What would Noah do without me? Neglecting Evan—I had so many chances to tell him and didn’t.
I lectured him about honesty and withheld my own truth—which is no
different than lying.
    Oh, God, I’m sorry. I need help. I will die
someday and when that time comes I’ll be ready, but not tonight,
Lord. Please. Not like this. Protect me. Open my eyes to see a way
out. Help me think through the confusion. Tell me what to do.
    I think over the desperate prayer and
realize I’ve neglected the most important part.
    This is what I want, but You know better.
So, let Your will be done.
    I withhold the Amen, knowing I’m nowhere
near finished.
    When I blink, my lashes no longer press
against anything. The blindfold seems to have slipped down over my
nose, not all the way, but enough to see. It’s still dark, but
there’s a shape to the darkness. A hysterical cry wants to escape,
but something tells me I should avoid making unnecessary noise. I
can tell through the trace amounts of dim light that filter through
the edges I am inside a trunk, but not the kind I thought. It has
sharp corners and a lid like a rectangular storage box. Where it
has—I have—been stashed, I have no idea, but I know I’m travelling.
I feel the twists and turns and hear the constant drone of an
engine. There’s also a muffled racket that sounds like it might be…
rap music?
    With a jolt my smooth ride becomes rough. A
jagged pinging noise sounds from below as the swaying motion of
turns becomes more frequent, near constant. We must be close to
wherever we’re heading.
    As I think it, the motion of the car drags
to a halt.
    So does my heart.
    Listening intently for any sign of my
impending demise, my senses seem to sharpen. There’s a muffled thud
that sounds like a door. Silence. Waiting. Everything is dreadfully
quiet. I can actually hear the stillness. Even my thoughts are a
whisper, barely intelligible over the buzz in my ears.
    The fear of whatever’s coming has me
imagining I’m someplace remote, probably a nearby beach or
lake.
    One of my earliest memories is of my big
brother and me sneaking into a neighbor’s swimming pool. He was
going to teach me how to dog paddle. I can see little Ronnie, no
more than five or six himself—which puts me between two and
three—standing neck-deep in the shallow end, urging me into the
water. He told me to wade in carefully. I leapt. I remember the
terror when my feet couldn’t find the bottom.
    The car’s moving again. My head throbs,
repeatedly knocking against the wall of my container. Wherever
we’re heading, it isn’t on a paved road.
    I try, once again, to loosen my restraints.
Beyond self-defense and running, I have no plan. There’s not enough
definitive information.
    That day in the pool with