Read Online My Soul To Take by Madeline Sheehan - Free Book Online
Authors: Madeline Sheehan
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pants, a PINK tee shirt, a light purple hooded sweatshirt, every pair of underwear she had, and a pair of dark brown Uggs. On a whim, I grabbed a stack of her books, all teenage romance novels, and a barely used purple diary. On the inside cover, written in purple cursive was “Property of Kaitlyn Macpherson”.
I shoved it all inside a Hello Kitty shoulder bag I had pulled from the closet and moved on to the master bedroom. Her father’s clothing was exactly what I had been looking for. I snagged thick cotton socks, fleece-lined flannel shirts, warm sweat pants, a heavy winter coat, scarves, gloves, and even a ski mask.
Before I left, I stopped back in Kaitlyn's room and grabbed two bottles of purple nail polish. If I were going to be wearing pink flip-flops next summer, I would do it with purple toenails.
As I stepped off the wraparound porch, a pack of dogs, that at one point had probably been house trained, darted out from behind the garage. They spotted me immediately and slunk forward, teeth bared, ears flattened, and snarling like the fearsome hound of Hades, Cerberus .
Judging by their exposed ribcages, they were obviously starving. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans, crouched and aimed for the biggest one, a fat-faced pit bull. With a shot to his head, he went down. Aware of the sudden danger, the others skittered backwards.
The seven remaining dogs sniffed at their dead friend, all except one, a large golden retriever that had seen better days. His limp made him slower than the others. An infection had set inside his leg and gangrene was quickly eating up the skin and muscle around the wound. I let another bullet fly and took him out.
“Eat up boys,” I cooed to the dogs as I skirted around them. “Best meal you'll find around here.”
A few hours later, I was parked in front of a hospital, putting a fresh clip in my gun.
The sliding emergency room doors were frozen open and I had to push several bloody gurneys out of my way in order to enter. I was barely through the entrance when the strong, rancid stench of decay hit me hard.
The entire place was a putrid mess. The blood-splattered waiting area was a place of nightmares. A half-rotted body of some poor nurse still wearing her pink scrubs hung haphazardly over the top of the check-in desk. On the floor, in the midst of toppled over chairs and small tables, were more human remains.
Rats scurried out of my way as I pushed through a doorway labeled “Exam Rooms”, hoping to find a sign that would lead me to the cafeteria.
The darkness of the hospital engulfed me. Without windows, the corridors were eerily shadowed. Summoning fire to my left hand, my gun clutched in my right, I continued down the hallway, zigzagging my way through broken and bloodied hospital equipment.
Just as I was about to make a left, I heard small whimpers coming from behind a closed door.
Carefully, I pushed the lever down and slowly stepped inside the room. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows, but when they did, I was unable to contain the shudder of horror that tore through me.
A child, no more than five or six, had been placed in a straightjacket and shackled to a hospital bed by his neck and feet, presumably before he had turned into a Skin Eater. No human would have been able to bind a Skin Eater; we simply were not strong enough.
And it was obvious that this particular Skin Eater had not fed. His skin was a sickly shade of gray that sagged off his bones, his eyes sunken in and lined with dark circles, giving him a skeletal appearance.
The moment he spotted me, he turned feral. Snarling, snapping, and pulling so hard against the chain around his neck that his skin began to tear.
I had seen a lot in the past months on my own. I had seen things that had kept me awake at night, unable to close my eyes without reliving the experience all over again. However, never had I seen a child Skin Eater. I had figured,
I shoved it all inside a Hello Kitty shoulder bag I had pulled from the closet and moved on to the master bedroom. Her father’s clothing was exactly what I had been looking for. I snagged thick cotton socks, fleece-lined flannel shirts, warm sweat pants, a heavy winter coat, scarves, gloves, and even a ski mask.
Before I left, I stopped back in Kaitlyn's room and grabbed two bottles of purple nail polish. If I were going to be wearing pink flip-flops next summer, I would do it with purple toenails.
As I stepped off the wraparound porch, a pack of dogs, that at one point had probably been house trained, darted out from behind the garage. They spotted me immediately and slunk forward, teeth bared, ears flattened, and snarling like the fearsome hound of Hades, Cerberus .
Judging by their exposed ribcages, they were obviously starving. I pulled my gun from the back of my jeans, crouched and aimed for the biggest one, a fat-faced pit bull. With a shot to his head, he went down. Aware of the sudden danger, the others skittered backwards.
The seven remaining dogs sniffed at their dead friend, all except one, a large golden retriever that had seen better days. His limp made him slower than the others. An infection had set inside his leg and gangrene was quickly eating up the skin and muscle around the wound. I let another bullet fly and took him out.
“Eat up boys,” I cooed to the dogs as I skirted around them. “Best meal you'll find around here.”
A few hours later, I was parked in front of a hospital, putting a fresh clip in my gun.
The sliding emergency room doors were frozen open and I had to push several bloody gurneys out of my way in order to enter. I was barely through the entrance when the strong, rancid stench of decay hit me hard.
The entire place was a putrid mess. The blood-splattered waiting area was a place of nightmares. A half-rotted body of some poor nurse still wearing her pink scrubs hung haphazardly over the top of the check-in desk. On the floor, in the midst of toppled over chairs and small tables, were more human remains.
Rats scurried out of my way as I pushed through a doorway labeled “Exam Rooms”, hoping to find a sign that would lead me to the cafeteria.
The darkness of the hospital engulfed me. Without windows, the corridors were eerily shadowed. Summoning fire to my left hand, my gun clutched in my right, I continued down the hallway, zigzagging my way through broken and bloodied hospital equipment.
Just as I was about to make a left, I heard small whimpers coming from behind a closed door.
Carefully, I pushed the lever down and slowly stepped inside the room. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows, but when they did, I was unable to contain the shudder of horror that tore through me.
A child, no more than five or six, had been placed in a straightjacket and shackled to a hospital bed by his neck and feet, presumably before he had turned into a Skin Eater. No human would have been able to bind a Skin Eater; we simply were not strong enough.
And it was obvious that this particular Skin Eater had not fed. His skin was a sickly shade of gray that sagged off his bones, his eyes sunken in and lined with dark circles, giving him a skeletal appearance.
The moment he spotted me, he turned feral. Snarling, snapping, and pulling so hard against the chain around his neck that his skin began to tear.
I had seen a lot in the past months on my own. I had seen things that had kept me awake at night, unable to close my eyes without reliving the experience all over again. However, never had I seen a child Skin Eater. I had figured,
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