The End by Bianca Sommerland

Author:Bianca Sommerland [Sommerland, Bianca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“You don’t get to give up.”

Something scaly brushed my thigh. I clawed at nothing. Slammed my head into the base of the coffin.

“You’re stronger than this.”

Tiny legs, skittering across my cheek. I brushed away…nothing.

“Let me tell you a story.”

I shouldn’t hear his voice. His voice shouldn’t comfort me. But in the darkness, he was here. The man I loved. The man I’d never doubt, because he’d saved me, again and again. He’d fought by my side. He’d given me a life when all I’d had was…nothing.

Part of me had loved him the first time he’d forced me to eat, but I’d truly given him my heart when he’d found a way to take me out of that cell with a fantasy, a place he’d finally brought me to for real, but couldn’t compare to the oasis I’d needed so much when death was the only escape from another day in hell.

There was no way to know how long I’d been in this coffin, buried deep in the earth. So deep that I couldn’t even shift the lid. Screaming and crying had stolen my voice. My hands had healed only for me to tear them up again, but I couldn’t recall what I’d been trying to do. There’d been no plan. No thought. I’d been like an animal, ready to chew its own leg off to be free.

Losing myself had been a small blessing, because I couldn’t remember making those deep grooves in the wood I could feel now as I ran my hand along the walls of the coffin. I couldn’t remember bleeding so much that the scent of my blood tainted the air and I could feel flecks of it dried to every inch of my skin.

His voice had brought me back. But I was still alone.

He wasn’t looking for me.

He probably didn’t even know I wasn’t in my cell anymore.

Maybe he wouldn’t care, but the voice I heard was from the man I’d known would always fight for me. A man I’d give my life for. He was the one I needed to listen to if I was ever going to get out of here.

I continued brushing my fingers along the side of the coffin. There! The head of a nail. I worked my fingernail under it, tugging, wincing as my nail began to tear.

“Think, Lydia!”

“I’m trying to!” I growled, envisioning Daederich lifting his brow and folding his arms over his chest, looking at me the way he did when I was being stupid. “I’d like to see you get out of a fucking coffin.”

He’d probably smirk at that. For all I knew, he’d done it already. In half the time.

“Yeah, well someone give the man a fucking medal.” I sucked my teeth, which wiped the smile right off his lips. He hated when I did that.

Yep, I’m losing my fucking mind.

The nail would give me a way to weaken the wood. The planks were too thick to punch or kick through, even with supernatural strength. Well, my supernatural strength anyway.

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