Everything in my body screamed at me to run.This is trouble. This is danger. These are the last fleeting moments of your life.
“Why not?” I bit out.
“I want to keep you, Quincey. All for myself.”
My heart was in my throat. Any second longer, I would be puking up the gummy snakes and handfuls of maraschino cherries I had been stuffing my mouth with in a red regurgitated frenzy.
“No thanks, not interested,” I spat before taking a step toward him.Fight it is. Don’t show him you are weak. Don’t show him you are scared. Do not cower.The words played through my mind again and again. Men like this only preyed on the weak. They think they can push people, bend them to their will, and treat them like they’re disposable.Scum. Filthy fucking parasitic scum.
“I thought you might say that,” he said as he pulled a little syringe from his pocket.
Bile threatened to spill out of me in waves. My body seized up completely in a fury of terror and adrenaline as I desperately tried to work out whether fight or flight would give me my best chance of escaping. It was so easy,too fucking easy,to separate ourselves from danger. I heard it as many as a hundred times over after Esme had finished one of her True Crime podcasts. “That could never happen to me. That would never happen to me…”
But what happens when it does?
The thoughts leaked into my head in a highlight reel of missing persons cases and news station announcements and cordoned off alleys as the terrifying report of a girl who should have known better than to walk around late at night by herself rang through my brain. I took a breath to still my beating heart, although I knew the action was futile.
Please…
And then my mind went to him. “Thallor,” I whispered, barely choking out the word.
But theBoardroom Butcherwas already hurtling toward me with a syringe angled directly for my legs. I stumbled backward for a moment, stepping into a puddle and losing balance, tripping and hitting my head on the cobbled floor.
I could feel warm liquid seep down the side of my head before I could process the crazed man lunging on top of me. His eyes were stretched wide, and he smiled maniacally from ear to ear, enjoying the way I screamed below him. I fought for my life, hitting and scratching at his face.
“THALLOR!” I called out again as the man shoved a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams.
I wiggled below him, managing to get enough room to bring my leg up, kneeing him in the testicles as hard as I could, whichsent him tumbling off me in pain. I could barely see straight, eyes still unfocused from where I’d hit my head as I crawled through the wet dirt and loose bits of trash. I pulled myself up, staggering a little before standing. I stumbled for the syringe, grabbing before he was on top of me again, yanking my leg backward.
“You don’t have to be breathing for the next part.”
He tugged me back more forcefully, but I managed to keep my balance as the final scream escaped my lips. “THALLOR!”
Before he could tear at my shirt, I plunged the syringe into his neck. His eyes went beady as he collapsed headfirst into the corner of the dumpster. I heard an earth-shattering cracking noise before watching the man fall to the floor.
I wasn't sure how long I stood there staring at him. I blinked once. I blinked twice. I blinked a thousand times as if I could somehow end the nightmare that I found myself caught up in. My hands shook violently as I dropped the syringe and stumbled backward again.
“No—no—I…” Words evaded me as I moved a shaky hand to the back of my head, looking down at the sanguine liquid that covered it.
“Self-defen—you did—you—I didn’t mean,” I stuttered as I looked down at the man that remained unflinching and unmoving at my feet.
I squeezed my eyes tight and counted to ten, hoping that when I opened them, I’d be back in my bed, maybe sweaty and a little worse for wear but safe in the confines of my duvet and my apartment.
But the sight before me when I opened them had me hurling the little contents of my stomach onto the floor. The vomit came in waves and waves before I dropped to my knees. “This—your—this was your fault,” I choked out as I looked at him. And then, before I knew it, I was on top of him. Immediately tryingto shake him awake as his head lulled back and forth in a way it shouldn’t before I let his body drop to the floor. The sounds that escaped me after that were broken and scared.
I wanted to yell and scream and shout at the man. But he didn’t groan. Didn’t stir. Didn’t move. I scrambled backward, unable to take my eyes off the blood on my hands and skirt and the growing pool of blood beneath the unmoving man in front of me. And then I closed my eyes again, no longer sure if he was unconscious or dead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Iwas still sitting in the same position with my head and arms hunched over my knees, blocking out the world, when I heard footsteps approach. They were heavy and moved quickly, becoming louder as they got closer. I wanted to look up. I wanted to see who they belonged to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. I could smell the faintest scent of burning, but it was hardly noticeable–overpowered by the acrid, metallic smell that clutched at me and wouldn’t let go.
The rest of the world around me was a blur. My eyes burned with the now dry tears that had streaked down my face. Two hands–steady, and firm–found their way around my waist and pulled me into a standing position, cradling me against the firm warmth of a chest. I opened my eyes for just a moment, and all I could see was red. Red hands. Red clothes. Red spatters across my shoes. Everything,everything,was shrouded in that deep, vibrant liquid.
“I’ve got you.”
Their soft, gentle words wrapped around me like a safety blanket as they held me close. A tender hand stroked my hairthat had fallen from its ponytail. I gripped onto the fabric of the T-shirt, balling it in my fists as if it were the last tether to my sanity. I took in another pull of breath. The sweet, familiar smell of campfire wood anchored me to the spot.
I shifted, trying to get closer, bury myself deeper in the safety of the embrace. Whether from sheer exhaustion or lack of balance, I stumbled, expecting the ground to rise up and meet me, but the arms around me held firm. The soft, tentative kiss that pressed into the side of my temple reignited the tears that came streaming down my face. It was brief, but the effect of it lingered long after the brush of the lips had left my face. Like a parent would with a child to makeitall better.It seemed to temporarily take all my pain away.
