Verity by Colleen Hoover EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author Name: Colleen Hoover
- Book Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Dark, Fiction, Mystery, Mystery Thriller, New Adult, Romance, Suspense, Thriller
- ISBN # B07HJYTRMD
- Date of Publication: 2018-12-7
- File Name: PDF / EPUB
- PDF / EPUB File Size: 2 MB
I hear the crack of his skull before the spattering of blood
reaches me.
I gasp and take a quick step back onto the sidewalk. One of
my heels doesn’t clear the curb, so I grip the pole of a No
Parking sign to steady myself.
The man was in front of me a matter of seconds ago. We
were standing in a crowd of people waiting for the crosswalk
light to illuminate when he stepped into the street prematurely,
resulting in a run-in with a truck.
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I lunged forward in an
attempt to stop him—grasping at nothing as he went down. I
closed my eyes before his head went under the tire, but I heard
it pop like the cork of a champagne bottle.
He was in the wrong, looking casually down at his phone,
probably a side effect of crossing the same street without
incident many times before. Death by routine.
People gasp, but no one screams. The passenger of the
offending vehicle jumps out of the truck and is immediately on
his knees near the man’s body. I back away from the scene as
several people rush forward to help. I don’t have to look at the
man under the tire to know he didn’t survive that. I only have
to look down at my once-white shirt—at the blood now
splattered across it—to know that a hearse would serve him
better than an ambulance.
I spin around to move away from the accident—to find a
place to take a breath—but the crosswalk sign now says walk
and the thick crowd takes heed, making it impossible for me to
swim upstream in this Manhattan river. Some don’t even look
up from their cell phones as they pass right by the accident. I
stop trying to move, and wait for the crowd to thin. I glance
back toward the accident, careful not to look directly at the
man. The driver of the truck is now at the rear of the vehicle,
wide-eyed, on a cell phone. Three, maybe four, people are
assisting them. A few are led by their morbid curiosities,
filming the gruesome scene with their phones.
If I were still living in Virginia, this would play out in a
completely different manner. Everyone around would stop.
Panic would ensue, people would be screaming, a news crew
would be on scene in a matter of minutes. But here in
Manhattan, a pedestrian struck by a vehicle happens so often,
it’s not much more than an inconvenience. A delay in traffic
for some, a ruined wardrobe for others. This probably happens
so often, it won’t even end up in print.
As much as the indifference in some of the people here
disturbs me, it’s exactly why I moved to this city ten years
ago. People like me belong in overpopulated cities. The state
of my life is irrelevant in a place this size. There are far more
people here with stories much more pitiful than mine.
Here, I’m invisible. Unimportant. Manhattan is too
crowded to give a shit about me, and I love her for it.
“Are you hurt?”
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