The Girl Hunter: An addictive serial killer thriller with a shocking twist (Tess Winnett) by Leslie Wolfe

Author:Leslie Wolfe [Wolfe, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Italics Publishing
Published: 2023-08-08T16:00:00+00:00

29

Workshop

“You had to run, didn’t you?” Carolyn’s voice was laced with bitter resentment.

The sharp sting of guilt cut through me. She sounded angry at me for trying to escape this hell. In her place, I would’ve been angry too.

She was sitting on the dirty, wooden floor, staring past me with an absentminded gaze. One eye was almost swollen shut. She had fresh bruises on her arms and back, and her lip was bloodied.

And I couldn’t think of anything to say that would really make a difference. Just banalities, even if they were heartfelt.

“I’m so sorry, Carolyn,” I whispered. “Please, let me help you.” I couldn’t think of anything I could’ve done to ease her pain, but it felt like the right thing to say.

After a moment of silence, she scoffed bitterly. “And what, exactly, do you think you can do to help me, if the one thing I asked you didn’t do?”

Her question threw me off for a moment, but then I realized what she meant.

“I had to try,” I whispered. “You know I had to.” I wrung my hands powerlessly. “I… just can’t resign myself to stay here. To give up.”

She shot me a weary look and sighed. Then she stood and reached on top of a stack of wooden crates and retrieved a piece of bread. It was dry, crusty, and touched by mold in places. She broke it in two and handed me a piece. I took it with tears of gratitude in my eyes.

We both ate slowly, although I had to resist the urge to wolf it down. I was famished. It had been at least two days since I ate anything, just some scraps from the hunter’s table. We had water from the squeaky faucet of a small sink in the workshop, and there was a toilet too, behind a half-wall. But food we lacked almost entirely, and the absence of nourishment had already started to spread weakness and weariness throughout my body. I had to go back out there, if only to get us something to eat.

I had to try again, while I still could.

“Just don’t do it anymore,” Carolyn warned, crumbs still clinging to her lips moments after she’d finished chewing her bread. “It gets you nowhere but back here, in the devil’s workshop.”

It was an actual workshop; she was right. Although I’d never thought of naming the room where David had taken his last breath, that name suited it just fine. The worktable now stained with my dried blood was just one of several implements that supported the room’s utilitarian function. Several tools cluttered the space, and wooden crates I hadn’t thought of rummaging through yet, but I felt I should have. Maybe I could find something I could use. Something with a blade, an axe, a weapon of some kind. The shovel was too heavy and too large for me to wield with any chance of surprising him.

“What was it last night?” Carolyn asked, looking at me with pity in the eye she could keep open.

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