“That’s enough,” I growl at Patrick, “I am not interested.”
He opens his mouth to speak but I’m saved from whatever he’s about to say by the bouncer who comes over and escorts him out, never even saying a word.
It’s odd but I don’t look into it too hard as my eyes go back to the dark corner.
But it’s empty now.
A strange sense of loss settles into my bones, like I’m grieving something I’ve never even had.
And that just reminds me of Kolt and all the things we didn’t have too.
Chapter Twelve
“Get home safe, girl,” Kiera, one of the girls I work with, calls as I head out the door.
“You too!” I shout back. I tuck my coat closer as I head out into the early morning chill. It wasn’t a long walk home; I’ve done it so many times at this hour of the morning that I’m used to it now. It’s quiet, peaceful. The night sky here doesn’t have the same effect as it does back at home on the island, the stars are stifled by all the light pollution and even the moon, despite how fat and round it is, looks dull.
I don’t enjoy my nights nearly as much anymore.
My footsteps are loud in the otherwise quiet streets, echoing down the roads as the wind rustles the leaves in the trees.
I’m almost home when a second set of steps joins mine.
I don’t stop but I do check behind me, glancing over my shoulder to see the figure following me. His steps are wobbly, stumbling to the left and right and I already know who it is.
Fuck.
“Vanesssaaaaaaaa,” He calls my name, dragging out the sound with his slur.
I quicken my step and dig into my pocket for my phone, pulling it out only to find it out of charge. Double fuck.
But then Patrick starts to run toward me, and even in his drunken state, he’s quick. Fear propels my legs to move, and I take off in a sprint, pumping my legs as fast as they can go. But he’s still quicker.
His arms circle my waist, and he yanks me back hard enough, my phone drops from my hand and the screen smashes on the pavement. “Where you going, gorgeous?” He slurs into my ear, his alcohol breath almost making me gag.
“Get off me,” I try to stay calm, “You’re drunk, you don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, I do.” He drawls, “I’ve wanted to all fucking semester. But you’re being a little cock tease and keeping it from me.”
“Patrick,” I claw at his wrists, trying to get him off me but it doesn’t work.
“So, I’m just going to take,” He whispers. “It’s mine anyway.”
“Get off me!” I cry loudly, “Help! Someone help me!”
I throw my weight around, stamping on his feet with the heels of mine and try to headbutt him, but he doesn’t let go. He throws me toward the bank at the edge of the sidewalk, using his weight to push me down into the wet grass.
“Get off me!” I scream. “Help me!”
“Shut the fuck up,” He growls, “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so damn long.”
“Please,” I beg, “Please don’t do this.”
I feel so damn powerless. Before I left the island, Imogen begged me to get a safety kit, mace, a taser, I’d said yes to appease her, but never did get anything. I regret that decision now.
Patrick’s hands fall to the edge of my top, tugging it but I manage to keep it down, fighting him every second to try and stop this.
This couldn’t be happening. I needed this to stop.
