Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

door opened, she sprung to her feet, although she’d slept for only a few short minutes. He’d never visited her during the day before. A chill spread through her veins as she realized the moment of her death might be closer than she’d expected.

“No,” she whimpered, looking at him, trying to read his mind. She stood in the middle of the room, a blanket still clinging to her shoulders, while he looked at her with no emotion, as if she were a problem he needed to solve, nothing more. His features were relaxed, the elegance in them that had attracted her at first like a mismatched label, deceiving, treacherous, when instead a warning should’ve been pasted on that charismatic face. “No, please,” she whispered, taking a step closer to him, reaching for his hand.

“Don’t,” he said, and her hand froze in midair.

The door was open behind him, the sun crashing in, hitting the hammered copper rooster on the wall and sending shards of reflected colors on the walls. If she made a run for it, could she pass by him fast enough to make it outside?

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, as if reading her mind and grabbing her arm with a steeled grip. “Let’s go.”

She pulled away from him, but his grip tightened, crushing her flesh, and she screamed. “Please, I don’t want to go,” she pleaded in a tear-filled voice. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He smiled, a weird, lopsided grin that sent shivers down her spine. “You always wanted to go for a walk. You got your wish… Let’s go.”

He dragged her toward the door while she pulled back, fighting him the best she could, kicking his legs, aiming for his groin and missing every time.

She’d left her shoes by the couch, and she threw them a regretful look. If she caught a chance, she’d run faster in them.

“Please, just let me take my shoes.”

He laughed and tugged at her arm again. “Where we’re going, you don’t need shoes.”

She fell silent and finally stopped fighting him. She couldn’t win.

He dragged her out of the house, not bothering to close the door behind him. She’d expected to be taken to the car, but he circled the house instead and led her inside the woods.

It was going to be the woods after all, just like she’d imagined night after night. He was going to lug her to some place where he buried the bodies, then shoot her or stab her or strangle her. She almost hoped for a bullet, the prospect of being shot in the head or in the heart the most appealing of the alternatives she envisioned, the most merciful of deaths.

But the man who was pulling her farther and farther into the woods wasn’t merciful. He’d proven that time and again tying her up and watching her wet body trembling in the darkness of that icy room, while she writhed against her restraints, trying to break free. If he wanted her dead, he’d probably thought of something excruciatingly painful.

She shrieked when she stepped on a sharp rock, but he kept on going, her thin body an easy burden for his strong build. He didn’t stop, and didn’t seem fazed by her scream. Her teeth clattered, although the sun had risen above the trees, warming up the air just a little. The barren forest seemed eerily silent, the fallen leaves dampening all sounds. No birds were singing, as if the imminent winter had taken away their voices.

The forest cleared. They emerged on a grassy glade at the edge of a deep ravine, steep and rocky, lined with sharp, moss-covered boulders. A few junipers and twisted cypress trees hung from the rocks, their seeds having found inhospitable ground, but having prevailed, nevertheless. At the bottom of the ravine, about 100 feet down, coyotes circled on the dark ground, the occasional howl seeding sinister echoes against the vertical walls. They must’ve been the same coyotes she’d seen through the living room window but was never able to hear. Now that she did, their baying cries carried ominous undertones she’d prefer to never have heard.

Fighting a dizzy spell as she looked down, she noticed dozens of white specks at the bottom of the ravine, like bleached matchsticks, scattered throughout the area. Coyotes stopped and sniffed them at times or picked them up and started gnawing, lying down and holding them between their paws.

Bones.

Whitened by the elements and cleaned dry by the coyotes.

A guttural, strangled whimper came out of her chest, as his hand shifted from holding her arm to grabbing her neck, ready to push her into the abyss.

She clutched his arm with both her hands, trying to remove his grip but couldn’t. She fought him as hard as she could, opposing his push forward, her feet barely clinging to the edge of the ravine.

“I’ll take you with me, you sick son of a bitch,” she muttered, her decision satisfying as she stared into his eyes and grasped his throat with her hands. She let herself hang from his throat, while he pushed her, sending her off balance, her feet dangling in the air above the ravine. Then he shook her off, pushing her with the one hand that still clutched her nape, and she fell, screaming.

Flailing, she grabbed the edge of the ravine with her fingers, her feet thrashing, desperately feeling for footing. She felt her hands slide against the moss that covered the rocks, and screamed again when she lost her grip and fell another few feet before grabbing a juniper branch that withstood her weight.

Above her, standing on the edge of the ravine, he stared down, straightening his jacket and running his hands through his hair, with a satisfied grin on his lips.

Her hands were sliding off the juniper branch, inch by inch, closer to where it would break under her weight. She panted hard, trying to find something else to grab on to, yet afraid to let go.

When it gave, she screamed for a split second, before the