⠀⠀19. TASTE OF DEATH

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

❛ TASTE OF DEATH ❜

your life vanishes between my fingers.


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             THE MELANCHOLIC SILENCE WAS broken by the deep, rhythmic breathing of Rory, who had fallen asleep with her head resting on Steve's shoulder, whose hands were no longer touching the piano.

Steve looked at the sleeping face beside him. The girl's hair hung down in front of her sleeping face, and he was tempted to raise his arm to straighten it, to take a strand of hair that covered her dirty, peaceful features and tuck it behind her ear.

The light from the lantern flickered a little, lost its intensity completely, leaving them both in dense darkness.

Before he had time to look at her, even in the dark, the serenity of the moment was gone. A roar echoed in the distance, followed by not one, but three more.

Steve's body was petrified, rigid with fear, and Rory awoke in terror. Their hearts, partially soothed by the music, began to beat at an uncontrollable rate.

"Did you hear it?" Harrington whispered, gasping for breath, and in a quick gesture placed his hand on Rory's, which was resting on her thigh.

"Yes, I did." Hargrove, eyes wide, head held high, diaphragm rising and falling rapidly, already expecting the worst.

"Damn it, Rory, it was the fucking piano. I told you this was a bad idea! They may have been long gone, but the sound of the piano woke them up. We're so stupid!" He sighed, already feeling despair creep into his core.

"But they calmed down for a moment!" She snorted audibly, getting even more nervous. "Maybe that's why, but all the days I've been here, I've been quiet and they've been hanging around the house all the time. So they're not just lured by the sound!"

"It's the blood." He pointed to her arm and his stomach. "They smell the blood."

Rory, who hated feeling vulnerable, stood up and picked up the abandoned gun from the floor and raised it to her shoulder with both hands. Steve mimicked the gesture, stood up, picked up his bat that had been left in the doorway, and held it with both hands, mentally preparing to strike again.

The only sounds in the room at that moment were the heavy breaths of Rory and Steve as they turned and looked around, drops of sweat already forming on their foreheads, the result of tension despite the cold.

They were suddenly startled when their backs collided.

"Do you see anything?" Rory whispered over her shoulder to Steve behind her, his back to hers, mentally wondering where the flashlight was.

𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿWhere stories live. Discover now