Lock Every Door by Riley Sager Read Online (FREE)
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Ginny gazed up at the building, her feet planted firmly on the sidewalk but her heart as wide and churning as the sea. Not even in her wildest dreams did she ever think she’d set foot inside this place. To her, it had always felt as far away as a fairy-tale castle. It even looked like one—tall and imposing, with gargoyles gracing the walls. It was the Manhattan version of a palace, inhabited by the city’s elite.
To those who lived outside its walls, it was known as the Bartholomew.
But to Ginny, it was now the place she called home.
Heart of a Dreamer
Light slices the darkness, jerking me awake.
My right eye—someone’s prying it open. Latex-gloved fingers part the lids, yanking on them like they’re stubborn window shades.
There’s more light now. Harsh. Painfully bright. A penlight, aimed at my pupil.
The same is done to my left eye. Pry. Part. Light.
The fingers release my lids, and I’m plunged back into darkness.
Someone speaks. A man with a gentle voice. “Can you hear me?”
I open my mouth, and hot pain circles my jaw. Stray bolts of it jab my neck and cheek.
My voice is a rasp. My throat is parched. So are my lips, save for a single slick spot of wet warmth with a metallic taste.
“Am I bleeding?”
“You are,” says the same voice as before. “Just a little. Could have been worse.”
“A lot worse,” another voice says.
“Where am I?”
The first voice answers. “A hospital, honey. We’re taking you for some tests. We need to see how banged up you really are.”
It dawns on me that I’m in motion. I can hear the hum of wheels on tile and feel the slight wobble of a gurney I just now realize I’m flat-backed upon. Until now, I had thought I was floating. I try to move but can’t. My arms and legs are strapped down. Something is pythoned around my neck, holding my head in place.
Others are with me. Three that I know of. The two voices, and someone else pushing the gurney. Warm huffs of breath brush my earlobe.
“Let’s see how much you can remember.” It’s the first voice again. The big talker of the bunch. “Think you can answer some questions for me?”
“What’s your name?”
“Jules.” I stop, irritated by the warm wetness still on my lips. I try to lick it away, my tongue flopping. “Jules Larsen.”
“Hi, Jules,” the man says. “I’m Bernard.”
I want to say hello back, but my jaw still hurts.
As does my entire left side from knee to shoulder.
As does my head.
It’s a quick boil of pain, going from nonexistent to screaming in seconds. Or maybe it’s been there all along and only now is my body able to handle it.
“How old are you, Jules?” Bernard asks.