Escaping Grace: A Turning Grace Novel Read Online Free Page B

ready.
    A knock at my door prompted me to turn around, and the smell of something delicious made my stomach growl loudly.
    A short, tan woman wearing a floral uniform walked in wheeling a cart full of food. My hunger levels raised, and I began to sweat.
    “Miss Grace, you lunch,” she said softly with a deep, Latin accent.
    Words couldn’t form in my throat. I was feeling faint…and pretty surprised at how quick the service was.
    I didn’t see her leave the room, or even hear the door shut. My eyes darted to the plates full of hamburgers, French fries, chicken tenders, pasta, cupcakes, and brownies.
    I didn’t think. My legs uncontrollably moved my body over to the cart. My arms uncontrollably reached out. My hands uncontrollably dug into the steaming hot wonderment of the only thing that mattered most at that moment.
    I scooped the pasta up with my fingers, smashing it into my open mouth. I had to chew violently and quickly to get the food down my esophagus, to feed the unholy desire for nourishment. My body was gradually needing and wanting more and more as the days passed. And when I had it, there was nothing I wanted more.
    I closed my eyes in satisfaction as I shoveled every last morsel on each plate into my mouth. This food was incredible, but anytime I was hungry, the thought of what I’d eaten the night before I came here entered my mind. Nothing could compare since then.
    And I often thought to myself, would I ever be able to taste that again?
    I finally opened my eyes to the empty plates in front of me. I didn’t even bother to move from where I was. I was still standing at the cart.
    My stomach rumbled a bit before letting out a small growl. Apparently, this food was not enough.
    A knock at my door broke me out of my grub trance.
    I opened it to a serious look from Number One. “Grace, Dr. Roberson would like to see you now.”
    “Okay.”
    “Please follow me.”
    I followed Number One out of the Laguna hut and across the courtyard to the other side of the compound. Over on this side were two more huts that looked exactly like mine from the outside. One was labeled MALIBU and the other, NEWPORT. I could see movement in the Newport hut through open, window-like cutouts in the front and focused real hard to see if I could get a better view. Although I wasn’t ready to meet anyone just yet, I still wanted to see what the other people looked liked. For some reason, I was still half-expecting to see a horde of zombies shuffling aimlessly through the courtyard with backpacks on their backs as if it were an ordinary day at school.
    I quickstepped to match Number One’s pace when I realized my nosiness was making me fall behind. “What are these huts for?”
    “Malibu is the common area. Newport is the mess hall,” he answered firmly.
    After another two minutes, we approached the two-story structure that I could see from the balcony. As we walked up closer, I confirmed that this building was definitely made out of concrete.
    Above the door was a large, silver Z that stuck out of the wall. Number One swiped a card on the door before we entered a tiny, enclosed foyer. He then typed on a keypad next to the large steel door and stood stiffly, facing forward and looking up at a small, round camera embedded into the wall.
    A low buzz rang out and Number One opened the door. Once inside, we walked over to a receptionist sitting at a desk.
    “Good afternoon, Robin,” Number One greeted (without a smile). “This is Grace Watkins. Dr. Roberson requested the appointment be moved up sooner.”
    The thin woman wearing glasses smiled at Number One softly. “It’s nice to see you again.” She batted her long eyelashes at him before glancing at me. “Hello, Grace. Welcome to Everlasting Paradise.”
    I smiled back and fought the urge to shutter. The name of this place just did not sit well with me.
    She picked up her phone and dialed one number. “Grace is in.”
    After a short pause, she responded, “Yes, sir,”