Preston wanted to break through the glass so that he could get to her. He wanted to wrench open the door. To grab her and…
Run away with her.
What the hell?
Run away, with the woman who might have just tried to kill him?
Just how fucked up was he?
But then again, wasn’t that a question he’d been asking himself for years?
Chapter Nine
Bridget groaned. Her eyes fluttered open but…
Can’t see anything.
Her tongue felt kinda funny in her mouth. Dry. She swallowed a few times. Better. She blinked, hoping her eyes would adjust to the thick darkness all around her but…
No.
Still dark and?—
Thump.
She tensed. What in the world was that sound?
Thump.
It…was it coming from above her? Her hands flew up. No, they tried to fly up. They slammed into something hard. Something far too solid. Something…smooth? Wood? Her fingers fluttered over the wood. She felt the faint dips—no, lines—where different boards met each other. Like seams. There was wood over her head. Wooden slats. That was the term, slats. And?—
Thump.
Something…something fell onto her face. Through one of the slats. Something grainy. Automatically she scrubbed her fingers over her cheek and nose and realized that she was touching dirt.
Dirt had fallen onto her.
Thump.
“No, no, no.” She shook her head, frantic, even as her hands were flying out—above her. Then to the sides of her body. And then…
No, no, no, no! This could not be happening. But she’d seen a coffin on her last shift. A coffin, with people in it, buried in the ground. People who’d been buried alive.
Thump.
A high, keening scream tore from her as she lay in the darkness, with boards all around her and with dirt drifting through the tiny crack in the wood above her head.
“No, please!” A desperate scream. “I’m alive! I’m alive! Don’t bury me!”
Thump.
“I’m alive!”
Thump.
“I’m alive!”
Silence.
