Let Me In by Adam Nicholls (books under 200 pages .TXT) 📕

Nick—or the DC Carver, as he was now being called—kept running until his feet were on fire. The rough ground stabbed at his bare soles as he sprinted down back alleys, crossing onto new paths while sirens wailed somewhere behind him. He thought he’d gotten away, but there was no way to tell for certain. Not without revealing himself from the darkness in which he now stood, panting like his lungs were about to burst.

What a night it’d truly been, he kept thinking while he stuffed the gun into the waistline of his pants. It wobbled and clunked to the ground, so he scooped it up and shoved it deep into the pocket of his sweater, pissing him off even more for not having had the chance to get dressed.

And then there was the matter of his mother.

Nick couldn’t necessarily say it’d been easy to shoot her. The shock that came with it had made his mind foggy and his legs weak, like he was five seconds from fainting. But he hadn’t fainted, had he? Quite the opposite, in fact: he’d made it out of there without a scratch on him. Save for the cuts on the soles of his feet, that was.

But she’d encouraged him.

Not just in her final moments, when she’d held her ground in front of the back door and insisted he awaited consequences for what he’d done, but in the years leading up to it. Had she protested when her boyfriend had smacked him around all those years? Had she since tried to make amends, even starting with something as simple as an apology?

The answer to both of those questions was a firm “no.”

Which was why she’d had to die.

Back there, when he’d squeezed the trigger and the room lit up for a much shorter time than it seemed, he’d almost enjoyed the way her mouth hung open in shock. She’d stood there frozen like a mannequin, assessing him with eyes that questioned if he’d really done it, and when she’d looked down and saw the small blotch of scarlet growing across her shirt, she knew.

But by then it was too late.

She’d hit the floor with a thud that both satisfied and pained him. It was the pain of guilt, though only a brief fleck. The rest was drowned out by the sound of sirens and the rush of blood in his ears as the adrenaline took over. After that, he’d had no choice but to run, leaving all he knew in a house he’d probably never see again.

He’d also had to leave her.

Emma Cole had belonged to him for a short period of time. It was something he’d fantasized about in his adolescence, spending long nights alone in bed, staring up at the ceiling while his imagination allowed him to slip off her bra. But there was more than that—that same flexible imagination showed him what it would be like for him to turn her down. Only then was there a foundation for him to claim his vengeance after humiliating him all those years ago, back when he was just a kid.

Just. A. Kid.

Nobody deserved that torment.

Especially him.

The bustle of interested citizens made a roar in the street, filling in the gaps between the commands of policemen who were still searching for him. Nick peered around the corner, flakes of wood from the fence scratching his cheek. He didn’t care—all he wanted was a peek.

It didn’t disappoint.

A crowd was forming between the police vehicles, the public demanding the latest news from the authorities. There were cries, screams, and even murmurs as Emma Cole was taken into the back of an ambulance. Nick swept his gaze across the scene as an unidentifiable emotion settled in his chest. Was it fear? Anger? The rapid tick of his heart told him it was both, but it wasn’t until he saw him that Nick truly realized.

It was anger.

Raw, uncontrollable anger.

The black investigator from the charity hall left the scene, retreating to his car with one of the detectives. He must’ve been the one to lead the police his way, Nick figured, and that only made his blood boil. Just who the hell did he think he was? This was Nick’s life work—his vengeance for years of shitty treatment and neglect. And just when he’d started to get his own back, this goddamn hero came swooping in out of nowhere to save the stupid day.

But he would learn.

Oh, yes. Rachel’s husband, whatever his name was, would have the attention turned toward him, and he would suffer. Knowing this, Nick felt a sense of relief, as if not all was lost. There was a new challenge for him now: a pleasant distraction from his troublesome youth. Already formulating a new plan, he turned and disappeared into the night, eager to make those inventive nightmares a reality.