Savage Read Free Page B

had come, the smile was replaced with an expression reflective of the grim reality in which she lived.
    Her eyes slowly opened to the exquisite view from the sunroom window, but the undulating blue gray of the Atlantic could do nothing to recapture that so elusive bliss she had been experiencing.
    Once again, he had ruined it.
    She decided to try again, closing her eyes, feeling herself lulled by the natural sounds of the million-dollar summer home: the ticking of the grandfather clock in the library study, the humming of the refrigerator from the gourmet kitchen, all wrapped up in the muffled rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean outside.
    Yes, she was almost there . . . almost . . .
    The sound of the door coming open and then slamming closed tore her from the embrace of peace and dropped her back into hellish reality.
    She could already feel it happening, all brought on by the sounds of his arrival and the knowledge of his presence within the once-peaceful house. She could hear him moving about, the irritating thump of his footfalls, the clamor of his car keys carelessly being thrown upon the granite countertop in the kitchen, the refrigerator door pulled open, its contents rummaged through, before the heavy door was slammed close.
    She could feel her panic setting in, wanting to run and hide herself away someplace where he could not find her—could not affect her with his poisonous being.
    But he would always find her.
    â€œJanice!” his voice bellowed, shattering what remained of her blessed silence like a brick thrown through plate glass.
    He expected her to answer, but that would just be foolish as he would find her all the faster. She stood up from the couch, steeling herself for the inevitable. His steps were coming closer, and she could see his grotesque shape as he shambled down the short corridor somehow sensing and being drawn to the room she was in.
    â€œJanice, where are you?”
    His voice caused her flesh to tingle and itch as if covered with insects, the sound of her name coming from his mouth so sickening that it made her want to change it to something else entirely. But then he would eventually know it, and speak it, and it, too, would be corrupted by his foul mouth.
    She could feel him there in the doorway behind her, the poison of his very presence radiating from his body.
    â€œThere you are,” her husband, Ronald Berthold, said, followed by the sloshing of water and the sound of him swallowing.
    Though she would have preferred to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the undulating expanse of ocean, she braced herself and turned to look at him.
    Her husband was drinking greedily from a bottle of water. He had been out for a morning run and still wore the sweat-stained T-shirt, running shorts, and sneakers upon his feet.
    She could smell him now, smell his sweat, and almost became sick, breathing through her mouth to counter the nausea.
    â€œHey,” he said as he brought the bottle down from his mouth, screwing the cap back in place. “We should think about getting out of here sometime today. There’s a pretty big storm coming.”
    She’d heard the weather report earlier but had been distracted from the news by the fact that her husband had been getting ready to leave for his run. That was all she could focus on at that moment, the sweetness of him not being there. She would have tolerated the most destructive of natural disasters if it meant he wouldn’t be there.
    â€œI’ll start to pack,” she said, hating to speak to him because it would only lead to him talking to her more.
    She sensed his movement and turned to see that he had left the entryway and was approaching her.
    Oh God, she thought, feeling her revulsion rise. She turned to face him. The smell coming off his body was nearly too much, and she felt herself grow light-headed.
    â€œI should probably get started if we want an early start” she was able to get out without