I’m frozen because there’s Static’s face in my mind’s eye. Bright, white eyes, and crazed, sharp smile. Large hands covering every inch of my body, manipulating me how he wants me. Touching me and teasing me and taunting me. Pulling from me something deep and dark. Something I never would have touched otherwise, and now, I can’t get it out of my freaking head.
As scared, as absolutelyterrifiedas I am, I’m… curious, too. And I hate that. Because I don’t want to be.
I don’t want to wonder about the man that… did those things to me. That won’t stop texting me strange things and making me… making medo that.
Again.
And he watched the whole darn thing…
I think.
There’s no other explanation for him telling me to slow down. It doesn’t make sense. But maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe he just assumed I was a nervous wreck and was absolutely yanking myself past the point of pain?—
I suck in a breath at the memory. Because it washimI was thinking of… and I think he knew that.
Because he was right.
Fear… turns me on.
“Oh, God,” I groan loudly, rolling my head to the side where it thumps against the wall, then back again, repeating the motion over and over.
I’ve completely lost my mind. That’s what’s happened to me.
I’ve freaking lost it over a clown I met at a horror experience place.
It takes a few more minutes of rapid breathing before I’m able to breathe semi-properly again—and even then, I still feel queasy and faint. But I manage to stand on my feet without falling over. I splash cool water on my face and brush my teeth, and then, with a groan, I head to my bedroom in silence, head hanging heavy between my shoulders.
I’m weighed down by it all while equally feeling exhilarated.
Because I’ve never felt so alive… and that scares me.
Days pass in a paranoid blur.
I swear everywhere I look, I can see his face, thoseeyes,staring back at me. But I know I don’t. Ican’tbe. Because he doesn’t know where I am.
But he got my number… which means he could’ve easily gotten my address.
I shake my head resolutely, fighting against the onslaught of images from a few nights ago.It’s just my fear thinking,I tell myself over and over.There’s nothing to be scared of.
But even as I say that, I know it’s a lie.
Static is the very thing to fear.
He’s the product of my nightmares brought to life.
He’s the devil incarnate my parents always warned meabout, and I’m falling right into his sinful trap. But I can’t seem to stop. I don’t know if I…wantto stop.
Do I?
I know I don’t want to be scared. I don’t want this adrenaline pumping through my veins constantly. I don’t want to worry about what’s going to happen every time I turn my back or close my eyes. But the way he makes me feel—for that split second when my dick gets hard—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.
I drop my head down onto the table in front of me with a loudthud.A fewshhsresound, but I ignore them.
What am I going to do?
I’m stuck in a hell loop. That’s what this has to be—one viscous eternal hell I’m meant to find an escape from.
I just wonder what kind of damning thing I did to deserve this.
