Cold Death Mary Stone (most read books TXT) 📖

“Someone’s been very naughty, I see. How very disappointing. I expect all of my guests to obey the rules when they’re under my roof.”

He spoke in a lower, softer voice than usual, which didn’t seem like it should make Bethany shiver but somehow did. She scooted back, until the bookshelves trapped her. “I…I…”

“Stand up. Now.”

With the help of the shelf, Bethany scrambled to her feet and tried not to throw up when the room tilted.

“Come here.”

He held out a hand. Bethany’s skin crawled at the thought of touching him, but the emptiness in his eyes scared her too much to disobey. What else could she do, anyway? There was nowhere to run. No way out. She’d missed her chance.

His fingers curled around her wrist and tugged her into the hall. She was so tired, and her feet kept tripping like she was dressed up in her mama’s shoes. He led her toward the living room, and Bethany cast a longing glance at the tiny bedroom before scurrying after him.

Where are we going?

She didn’t dare ask. Wherever they were going, it was nowhere good. Not that she had a choice. The bad man was too strong, and Bethany was too weak, and anyway, if there was no food, then she didn’t care much where they went, as long as she could curl up in a ball somewhere and go back to sleep.

The man pulled her into the kitchen, and for a second, hope flared in Bethany’s belly. When the man unlocked the chain on the refrigerator, she licked her lips and took an eager step forward.

Finally, he was going to feed her! If she’d had the energy, Bethany would have done a little dance. Instead, she held her growling stomach and tried to boss him with her mind.

Come on, faster. Hurry up and open the door already.

The metal chain clinked. The door swung open. Bethany stared into the empty space and refused to accept it.

No. There had to be food here, somewhere. What had happened to it all?

Not only the food but the shelves were gone. Without them, the inside of the fridge looked more like a big white box.

Like a sleepwalker, she drifted closer. Maybe this was all a dream, and sometimes in dreams, Bethany discovered new things if she kept searching. Maybe she’d find food in the fridge. But no. No milk, no cheese, no fruit or pudding appeared. The only thing left were a few Tupperware containers in the door.

“Why?” Her voice cracked.

Instead of answering, the man dug his fingers into her waist and shoved her inside. Her hip smacked the back wall, and the pain sucked her breath away.

The pain also woke her up, like a pinch in a dream, and fear clawed at her skin. “No! Stop!” Bethany twisted and lunged for the opening. The man’s scary smile stretched his lips before he slammed the refrigerator door on her fingers.

She screamed again, and the door snicked open, just long enough to yank her hand out. When the door slammed shut this time, the refrigerator plunged into darkness. Bethany pounded the wall with her good hand for a few sobbing breaths before giving up. Her hip ached, and her fingers throbbed, and her throat burned, but none of that mattered because she needed to get out.

Take slow, easy breaths. Especially when you’re afraid.

Her mama’s lesson helped. Bethany worked on breathing and reminded herself to be brave.

Once she was quiet, the man spoke through the door. “You’re going to stay in there until you’ve learned your lesson. Did you know that people can live in refrigerators for a long time? Maybe we should see how long you last in there. And maybe I should plug it back in so that you turn into a popsicle.”

Bethany’s throat knotted up like it did when she was about to cry, but no tears came. She remembered how she hadn’t needed to pee that morning and wondered if it was possible for bodies to be too thirsty to make any new water.

It was too dark inside to see her hand in front of her face, and the air tasted stale. Bethany was so tired, and the dizziness was back. Her legs trembled, and she was about to sit down when she remembered.

Containers. There had been containers in the door.

Panting, she groped around until her hands hit plastic. At this point, she didn’t care what was inside. Anything. She’d eat anything.

It took three tries with her shaky hands, but the lid finally popped off. She lifted the container to her lips. The reek hit an instant later.

Bethany gagged, inhaling even more stink of rotting, moldy food. The sour scent filled the entire space, and Bethany imagined spoiled particles flying up her nose, in her mouth. Down her throat. The idea squished her stomach, and what little water she’d drunk from the faucet earlier burned on the way back up.

By the time she finished hurling, her legs shook too much to stand. Bethany collapsed to the floor, which was wet with puke, but what difference did it make? There was nothing to clean up with, and she’d barfed on her shirt. The smell of vomit and rotten food made her tummy flip again, so she buried her head in her knees and closed her eyes.

How long would he leave her in here? Days? Weeks? Would he let her die? What if her mama was the one who opened the door and found her dead body?

With the little energy she had left, Bethany kicked at the door and pounded the wall with her uninjured hand. “Let me out! Let me out of here! I hate this place! I hate you! You’re going to be sorry!”

She raged until her head spun again, until her lungs burned, and she gasped for air. Her body shook hard enough to rattle her teeth, like she was freezing, even though the air felt stuffy inside the box. She curled into a damp ball, wondering if she was going to die