“Please, stop,” I wail as the memory poisons my mind. “STOP—”
Because this time my voice works.
My voice works.
Wait—my voice works.
Reality swarms me, and I scream for help. I scream and squirm and shove as his knees press to my calves. Glass cuts into my side, ripping both my shorts and my skin. Still, he doesn’t have my arms. He doesn’t have my arms, and I grab for anything on the floor.
The moment my fingers touch glass, his fist comes in contact with my face.
My screams turn into sobs. I’m stunned by the pain, by the blood dripping down my split lip.
Get up, Bonnie.
Fight.
You couldn’t fight last time.
You can today.
I take every ounce of rage within me, and I swing. I don’t know what’s in my hand. I don’t know if it will stop him, but I have to try.
The drum pad collides with the side of his head, doing nothing more than pissing him off. I grab for anything on my right, my hand finally finding the stool, and I launch it across him. It cracks over his back enough that one of the legs splinters off.
He loses concentration, weight rocking back. I force my legs to move, force myself to get out from under him and scramble backward. He’s holding his ear as I drag myself to my feet, wooden leg in my hand.
And with everything I have within me, I bring it down over his head.
My knees give out as he winces, holds his neck, and bolts to his feet. He’s up and out of the room as my legs hit the ground, and when the door clicks shut, I can’t turn it off.
I wail.
I howl with every ounce of fear, regret, and terror within me. As all the memories come crashing down, the flood gates open and spill in a relentless waterfall that won’t let up. Flashes of a night I never wanted to relive invade my mind like black ink. Their laughs. Their masked faces. The voice in my head that I couldn’t get out.
The sound of a heart monitor’s steady beep makes me hyperventilate.
I press my hands to the floor and hurl.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
I’m backed up under the counter, blood and vomit staining the floor all around me when the door opens. I scream and grab a piece of glass, pointing a quivering hand at the person coming inside.
I can’t see them through my tears. I just see a figure… hear their footsteps… see the light from outside around their body.
I can’t hear what they say.
I can’t feel anything other than my own trembling.
And when Gemma’s face comes into view, kneeling in front of me, the glass drops from my fingers, and I throw myself into her arms.
“I’m sorry,” I hear her whispering. “Bonnie, I’m so sorry. I have you now. God, I’m so fucking sorry—”
She pulls back to hold my face in her hands. My body is going numb with every passing second. She says something, though I don’t hear it.
I collapse into her again, and this time as my eyes close, the world goes dark.
Beep.
