Unbreakable Rules (Too Many Rules Book 3) Read Online Free Page B
Author: G.L. Snodgrass
did to me. I became weak and needy. Very much not attractive qualities.
The only thing worse was the dark in Nana's house. I didn't know where things were. A smothering quiet hung around me. The absence of a distant TV or the refrigerator motor was glaringly obvious. A not so subtle reminder of how alone I was. To top it off, her dog, and the reason for my house sitting, was a clingy mess.
Brantley, her lug of a golden retriever, followed me around with his head down, whimpering. Not exactly your brave guard dog. No, Nana has to have a quivering puddle of a dog.
"Damn," I muttered under my breath as I connected with another end table.
The furniture kept jumping in my way as I crept from room to room trying to find candles or a flashlight. My legs were going to look like a soccer practice without shin guards.
Three short knocks on the front door had me jumping out of my skin. Who or what would be out at this time of night? Every slasher movie I'd ever seen flashed through my mind.
My skin crawled thinking about all the possibilities. That part where the power goes out just before the teenage girl is attacked by some weirdo with a god awful weapon dreamt up in the sicko's deep nightmares.
My heart raced, threatening to climb up my throat. Goosebumps ran up and down my arm making me shiver. Okay, the day could get worse. Way worse.
Why would someone be knocking? Would a killer do that? Wouldn't they just break in, or hide behind the bathroom door? I couldn't imagine Freddie Kruger or Jason knocking. Could you?
Brantley didn't even bark. Instead, he shimmied up next to my leg and leaned into me. I swear if he could have, he'd have jumped into my arms.
Add a new unbreakable rule. - Do not be that idiot girl who gets killed in the first part of the movie. The one who walks into the dark cellar because she heard a noise. Or, goes back to check on her boyfriend. Or in my case ex-boyfriend. Those girls always ended up surrounded by a pool of their own blood.
Not me. Jamie Lee Curtis was my new role model. She survived the movie. In fact, she did such a good job of surviving they were able to have a sequel. Right then, at that moment. Living long enough to have a sequel was my main goal in life. That, and finding some kind of light.
"Mrs. Thompson, it's Ryan from next door," a male voice said. "Ryan Hardy," he continued.
I knew that voice, I knew that name. My body relaxed as I realized it was a guy from school. Not just any guy, but Ryan Hardy, the most non-threatening person I could have thought of. He might be sort of weird but not in a creepy way. As far away as you could get from an evil slasher.
At least, I hoped so because I was going to open the door. That's how much I hate the dark.
My breath escaped in a quick whoosh. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it. Putting my hands out in front of me I felt the air. Shuffling along, one foot in front of the other.
I could imagine a dozen mishaps. I'd knock a lamp over cutting my foot on the broken glass, or I'd walk into a wall and give myself a concussion. Like I said. I was now a firm believer. It could always get worse.
Throwing the lock I prepared to open the door. My hand rested on the knob for a moment as another shiver traveled up and down my spine. If I was wrong and he turned out to be a serial killer, it was going to change my whole perspective on those dead girls in the movies.
Sighing, I pulled the door open and was immediately blinded by a big beautiful light. My eyes slammed shut as the pupils contracted. It was like looking at the sun on a hot summer day. Even with my eyes closed I could feel the light. A warm red glow seeped through my eyelids, letting me know that there was something other than dark.
I could feel myself being pulled to it. A physical need to draw close and protect it. Something this fragile, this valuable, needed safe keeping.
If someone had told me I had to close that door and shut out the light, I couldn't have done it. We'd have
The only thing worse was the dark in Nana's house. I didn't know where things were. A smothering quiet hung around me. The absence of a distant TV or the refrigerator motor was glaringly obvious. A not so subtle reminder of how alone I was. To top it off, her dog, and the reason for my house sitting, was a clingy mess.
Brantley, her lug of a golden retriever, followed me around with his head down, whimpering. Not exactly your brave guard dog. No, Nana has to have a quivering puddle of a dog.
"Damn," I muttered under my breath as I connected with another end table.
The furniture kept jumping in my way as I crept from room to room trying to find candles or a flashlight. My legs were going to look like a soccer practice without shin guards.
Three short knocks on the front door had me jumping out of my skin. Who or what would be out at this time of night? Every slasher movie I'd ever seen flashed through my mind.
My skin crawled thinking about all the possibilities. That part where the power goes out just before the teenage girl is attacked by some weirdo with a god awful weapon dreamt up in the sicko's deep nightmares.
My heart raced, threatening to climb up my throat. Goosebumps ran up and down my arm making me shiver. Okay, the day could get worse. Way worse.
Why would someone be knocking? Would a killer do that? Wouldn't they just break in, or hide behind the bathroom door? I couldn't imagine Freddie Kruger or Jason knocking. Could you?
Brantley didn't even bark. Instead, he shimmied up next to my leg and leaned into me. I swear if he could have, he'd have jumped into my arms.
Add a new unbreakable rule. - Do not be that idiot girl who gets killed in the first part of the movie. The one who walks into the dark cellar because she heard a noise. Or, goes back to check on her boyfriend. Or in my case ex-boyfriend. Those girls always ended up surrounded by a pool of their own blood.
Not me. Jamie Lee Curtis was my new role model. She survived the movie. In fact, she did such a good job of surviving they were able to have a sequel. Right then, at that moment. Living long enough to have a sequel was my main goal in life. That, and finding some kind of light.
"Mrs. Thompson, it's Ryan from next door," a male voice said. "Ryan Hardy," he continued.
I knew that voice, I knew that name. My body relaxed as I realized it was a guy from school. Not just any guy, but Ryan Hardy, the most non-threatening person I could have thought of. He might be sort of weird but not in a creepy way. As far away as you could get from an evil slasher.
At least, I hoped so because I was going to open the door. That's how much I hate the dark.
My breath escaped in a quick whoosh. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it. Putting my hands out in front of me I felt the air. Shuffling along, one foot in front of the other.
I could imagine a dozen mishaps. I'd knock a lamp over cutting my foot on the broken glass, or I'd walk into a wall and give myself a concussion. Like I said. I was now a firm believer. It could always get worse.
Throwing the lock I prepared to open the door. My hand rested on the knob for a moment as another shiver traveled up and down my spine. If I was wrong and he turned out to be a serial killer, it was going to change my whole perspective on those dead girls in the movies.
Sighing, I pulled the door open and was immediately blinded by a big beautiful light. My eyes slammed shut as the pupils contracted. It was like looking at the sun on a hot summer day. Even with my eyes closed I could feel the light. A warm red glow seeped through my eyelids, letting me know that there was something other than dark.
I could feel myself being pulled to it. A physical need to draw close and protect it. Something this fragile, this valuable, needed safe keeping.
If someone had told me I had to close that door and shut out the light, I couldn't have done it. We'd have
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