He’s going to let all of his friendshave fun, like I’m his present to them.
I’m not sure what’s worse… the way tears spring into my eyes until my vision swims, or the fact that Blake backs me up until I’m standing under the stupid mistletoe I watched them hang earlier before he forces his mouth against mine and floods my tongue with the taste of cheap beer.
The sound of glass breaking shouldn’t be a relief, but itis. The distraction gives me a chance to jerk my knee up, slamming it into Blake’s nuts so I can at least shove him away from me and press my back flatter against the wall. It’s the best I can do when the gust of wind comes in from the shattered window.
I’m trying to decide what to do—how I’m going to get myself out of this situation—when I twist my head to see what broke the glass to begin with. Maybe if it was a branch, I can pick it up to defend myself.
Or maybe I can gooutside, because I’d rather freeze to death than let Trevor and his friends?—
I stop mid-thought and stare wide-eyed.
There’s a guy standing outside, gripping an ax in tight hands.
Oh… oh shit. It’s the man from the store, only that handsome, bored expression is gone. He looksfurious, like some killer come to life from the page of a book.
I really am going to die in this cabin, and that handsome face reallyisgoing to be the last person to see me alive.
3
STREETER
What thefuckare these fucking weirdos doing?
Snow swirls around me, the broken window not making visibility any better. But if my eyes aren’t fucking deceiving me, they’re trying to assault the little twink.
Yeah, not gonna happen. One thing I hate more than a liar and a thief is a fucking rapist.
One of the guys—the one closest to the window I broke so I could see inside—looks at me, his face a mixture of incredulity, fear, and shock. His eyes bounce between what I’m sure is a pissed-off expression and what I have in my hands, and he stumbles back, falling into the arms of two guys who finally look my way.
Moving away from the window, I heft the ax I grabbed from a stump in the front yard on my way from my car and hurry to the door.
Rage like nothing I’ve ever felt flows through me and these fuckers will feel it. Five fucking men the size of trucks assaulting a little twink who could probably be knocked over with a feather? Yeah, perfect motherfuckers to work my rage out on.
After my shitty shift and that shitty fucking song blaring through my speakers, I knew I had to find a way to let off some steam. The twink and Asshole McGee were the perfect targets, and with the snow coming down like it’s trying to blanket the fucking planet, I figured I could take my time with them and play until my heart’s content.
But seeing how they’re all surrounding that twink, like they can’t wait to sink their fucking claws into him, gave me more targets to play with.
Heads will fucking roll.
After I got off my shift, I headed home so I could change into darker, warmer clothes and put on my heavy boots. The snow had started to come down harder, and I figured if I had to walk the rest of the way up the mountain, I wouldn’t risk slipping and falling.
Looks like that’s a good call, because I need heavy boots to kick this fucking door in. Knowing the rich fuckers who had this place built, the door is probably made of cheap, shitty material. If it’s not, I can always Jack Nicholson this bitch.
“Who the fuck are you?” someone inside yells. “You’re not invited, so get the fuck out of here!”
“It’s that insane fucking guy from the store I told y’all about,” Asshole McGee says. God, I can’t wait to sheer his fucking face off. “He’s crazy.”
Yeah, I’m something. Someone who abhors people picking on someone smaller, and I absolutely despise rapists.
I’m their worst fucking nightmare.
Raising a booted foot, I kick the door near the knob. Nothing happens. So I do it again. And again. And again, until it splinters and flies open.
All the guys—except the twink, I notice—are huddled together. A few have kitchen knives in their hands, but they’re holding them all wrong. Instead of gripping them by the handle,they’re holding them outward, like they’re going to poke me. They probably think it’ll hold me off. I swear, all of them are fucking useless.
I can’t get started until I have my music playing, so I adjust my headphones, then reach into my pocket to get it going. But before I can press play, one of the big lumbering assholes lets out a fucking war cry and rushes over to me, holding his knife out toward my belly.
Grabbing the ax in both hands, I bring it up and swing it in a wide arc. The man’s body keeps running, and I step aside to let him go, but his head rolls onto the ground, back to his companions who were trying to huddle together.
