MELODY (Book 1) ✓

Chapter 32 (Hanging By A Thread)

《I know where you roll your dough. 》

This text clearly wasn't about a kitchen table where I used to make cookies. This was about my money. My savings. My only hope to get out of here.

Shock paralyzed me for a moment. My fingers convulsed around the phone. My first thought was to jump out of my bed and flip the mattress upside down to check out my hidey-hole inside its polyester fabric . On second thought, I was afraid I'd wake Lynda up and look like a suspicious weirdo who does suspiciously weird stuff at night while people were sleeping. She'd never believe my warnings about Vivian if I acted like a demented person.

Could it be a random prank text?

My throat tightened, reading the text again and again and again. No way. There was no other explanations. Who else could it be the sender except my recent worst nightmare? The pretty cobra that kept spitting venom in my face every time we'd bumped into each other? And now she was coiling around my neck and sucking the last hope I'd ever had for a normal life.

But where did she get my number? Nobody has my number, except Akram and Ash.
 
My breath faltered, my thoughts racing at the speed of light.

It's three thousand dollars! I'm an idiot! Why did I wait so long to put them in a bank? How stupid and careless and plain dumb am I?

I let out a muffled sob, dropped the cellphone on my lap and weaved my fingers in my damp hair. I felt so helpless and I couldn't even check if my suspicion was true.

Maybe she's trying to provoke me to  expose the stash, but what's the point? She knows I'll change the place. Unless it's not a lie. Damn it to hell, she stole my money!

Sticking my back to the rough headboard, the night passed in a blur. My eyes stung, my muscles ached and I couldn't decide if I dozed for a minute or two, or my eyelids stayed open until the thin slivers of light peeked from behind the window shade.

Miserable was the right word to describe my condition. A zombie would feel sorry for me right now. All night long, I'd been in some sort of catatonic state. Dazed. Thinking about the worst possible outcomes of this little text that would've meant nothing if I wasn't in desperate need of escaping this fate.

The phone clock was past five in the morning when a short squeak of springs sounded from the adjacent bed. It wasn't loud but it made me wince and glance at the waking newcomer; Lynda. I'd been anxiously waiting for her to get up and leave the room to give me some space. One single minute to check if my money was still where I left it. One freaking minute before I lose my mind.

Stretching her long arms, Lynda rolled on her side to squint at me.

"Morning." Her hand reached her glasses. She put them on, shoving her bangs off her eyes. "You're an early bird."

"Uh, yeah. Morning. " I mumbled, trying to smile but my mood was too soured.

"Looks like you couldn't sleep." Lynda sat up on the edge of her bed and pursed her lips. "I slept like a log last night."

"Good for you." I nodded, a bit wary of her friendly chitchat.

"Hey, you mind watching the girls' room for me?" Lynda asked, scratching her head in embarrassment. "I need to tinkle and take a shower and this place is kinda... too public."

"Sure!" I replied with unnecessary enthusiasm. This was my chance to ease my doubts.

Lynda hopped off her bed in enviable energy. Her gray sweats were pulled up to the middle of her calves. She had this lanky, six-feet-tall model figure, smooth tan with cute nerdy glasses and dark bangs hiding her forhead. She looked taller than sixteen, pretty and healthy, probably in the basketball team or some school sports team. She was my polar opposite. It was hard not to feel sorry for myself, even though I wasn't much older than she.