The Stranger In the Guest Room by V. Lockwood (best books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

Let this be a learning lesson to me. Margo told me I could never be too prepared, and I thought I had it all under control. You never realize what you need until you’re in the situation. I should have read this or learned it from others. I should have done my research a little better. Now I was unprepared, and a part of me was afraid for my life. Once I ran from the house, I would only have a few minutes before he noticed.

“So good. Oh, that was good,” Brooks exclaimed as he leaned back in his chair.

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s my special recipe.”

“Well, then I can’t wait until you use this secret recipe again. Any other secrets you want to share?”

I spun around and glanced at him in shock.

“What’s that look for?”

“Secrets?” I asked him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I was talking about secret recipes. What did you think I was talking about?”

I laughed. “Okay. I thought you found my secret recipe binder and paged through it. You can’t know all my secret recipes yet. They’re mine.”

“I see how it is,” he joked as he stood.

I smiled at him. “I can finish cleaning up. I think I’m going to take a shower before we go to bed.”

“You know‚ a shower sounds good. I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing. But yeah...” He walked around‚ put his arms around me‚ and kissed me on top of the head. “I love you‚ Erika.” He then kissed my neck and bit my shoulder.

“I love you,” I whispered to him.

“Sure you don’t want any help?”

“I’m sure. I can clean up.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll head up and shower if that’s okay with you.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll just finish up here, take my shower, and meet you in my bed.”

“Your bed?”

“Well, unless you want to sleep in the bed in the guest room. Either is fine. They’re both comfortable beds. I bought the most expensive ones I could get because of the comfort factor.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in your bed.” He winked as he headed upstairs.

I made plenty of noise, so he’d hear me still cleaning up. Once the water started, I walked to the entry table, grabbed his truck keys, and put them in my pocket. I opened the closet door, grabbed the dustpan, and dumped the pieces of shattered glass into each of his boots. I then put on my winter boots and bolted from the front door, closing it behind me.

I broke down in tears as I trudged through the drifts towards the path to Easton’s house. I didn’t know where else to go. Every warning Brooks had told me stabbed me in the chest with each step I took closer to his home.

When I reached the path, I ran as fast as I could, refusing to look behind me. The cold winter air turned my tears into ice against my skin, and my eyes burned from the wind.

I reached Easton’s dark cabin and pounded on his deck door.

No answer.

“Easton!” I yelled through the door just loud enough for him to hear me. “Easton! Please open the door!”

Silence.

I peered through the glass and couldn’t see anything in the darkness, so I ran around his house to the front door and again banged on it, yelling his name. His truck sat in the driveway, so I knew he was home. His snow machine was by the shed. Another sign he had to be home.

After minutes of pounding and receiving no response, I banged on the windows. By this time, the wind felt raw against my exposed skin, and my arms and legs felt that warm-cold, itchy feeling.

I ran back to his deck and pounded again on the door. When he didn’t answer again, I reached for the door handle. I cried tears of relief when it opened. I locked it behind me and yelled for Easton.

Silence.

“Easton! It’s Erika! Please! I need help! Please!”

I made my way through the kitchen and paused near the table. I wanted to turn on a light, but I was too afraid Brooks would see. I knew he would head this way in a matter of minutes, and I only had that much time to get help.

I walked around the table and screamed.

“Easton!” I knelt on the floor beside him and screamed again. “Easton!”

He made some sort of noise, and I grabbed his wrist, still feeling his pulse.

“Easton, who did this? What happened? You’re going to be okay.”

He was lying on his right side in a fetal position.

“I need your phone, Easton. Where is your phone?”

He mumbled something I couldn’t understand. I was afraid to turn on the light, but I knew I had to see what I was dealing with. I stood and turned the light on over the stove and cried when I saw Easton lying in a pool of blood.

“Oh God. Oh God,” I cried. “Please tell me...”

“Bro... Bro...” Easton tried to whisper.

He cringed as he spoke, and I knew he was in severe pain.

“Brooks?” I asked as I knelt beside him.

He nodded.

“Oh God. How? What did he do?”

“Get... out...” he whispered.

“I’m not leaving you here,” I whispered back to him. “Once he finds out I’m gone, he’ll come right back here. Oh God,” I cried. “Oh God...”

“Keys... truck...” He looked with his eyes towards the front door.

I ran to his front door and since he didn’t have an entry table, I fumbled through his coat pockets for his keys. Once I found them, I shoved them in my other pocket and went back to Easton’s side.

“Can you move?”

“Go...” he said. “Go... help...”

“Easton, if you can move, you need to come with me,” I begged him. “Please, Easton.”

He grimaced in pain as he moved to raise his arms. I tried to assist him as best I could. Once he could sit up, he leaned against the wall. I could see tears streaming down his face.

“Do you think you can stand? Can we get to your truck? I will drive us, Easton.