The Gray Serial Killer Book One

Are you all right?” An arm reaches out and grabs me firmly. I squint as an overhead light shines too bright in my face. A sense of dread washes over me; I have no idea why. My body tenses at the touch. I try to pull away, but I can’t move the way I want. It feels like I’m fighting my way through mud, thick and heavy, weighing me down. The voice calls out again, I think it’s a woman’s. I turn my head to the side and force my eyes to open, blinking slowly. A face hovers over me, their features blurred. “What?” I croak. The voice that comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound like mine. The voice doesn’t respond. Something drapes over my shoulders, and a figure walks in front of me and drops to their knee. It is a woman. I can see her face now. I can see the color of her eyes, a deep, dark brown that begs me to find comfort in them, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I try to focus on her face. She has thick brows and a crooked nose, broad and covered in freckles. Focus. Focus, I try to tell myself before a high-pitched ringing tears through my eardrums.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is quiet, as if she’s trying not to break me with her words. I want to nod. I can’t comprehend why she’s looking at me like this, where I am, why I’m wrapped in a rough cotton blanket, why I’m so cold. I scrutinize my surroundings as my head clears, and I try my hardest to remember. How did I get on the ground? Rows of shiny, plastic-wrapped snacks fill my line of sight, and a long fluorescent tube-lamp above me swings back and forth. I think I’m in a gas station. I wipe my face with my arm and glance down. Is this my arm? Every part of me feels unfamiliar. I shake my head, trying to collect myself. “I’m okay,” I slur, realizing that she’s staring down at me with that searching expression. Squinting, I focus on the mass of blue and brass before me as she gets to her feet. “Why are you here?” I ask her, trying to take another glance around the room. I must have missed something. Something important. She puts her hands under my arms, hauling me to my feet. She’s stronger than I expected. My knees falter as I attempt to straighten my body. I stop struggling as she gently shushes me and lowers me back to the ground. It’s cold. Please don’t vomit on this nice lady. Her voice is soft but firm. “What’s your name?”