My lungs expand, taking air on board, then drawing another breath, greedy for more. It gives me the strength to push against my teacher, but he only tightens his hold, his dick growing in a surge of excitement.
I can’t overpower him.
“Let me go,” I whisper, trying one last time to assert myself. And just the act of trying feeds me more strength. Enough to straighten. Enough to fight back the tears of despair that want to stream down my face. “My phone is set up to send an SOS message.”
He immediately fumbles for my pocket, taking out the device and holding it out of reach. “Thanks for warning me,” he says, laughing, hurling it to the ground, stamping his foot until the screen shatters.
Free of his grasping hands, I take a step backwards, then another. Only a metre from the door now and I pray it’s still unlocked.
“I already sent it, you fucking pervert.”
Mr Simmons freezes in place, and I retreat another step, finally far enough away to spin on my heel, lunging for the exit.
My hand clutches the door release, but my panicked fingers are slick with sweat, slipping on the shiny metal.
I clench harder, finding a grip, but the tiny pause is enough.
The predator behind me snarls, heavy footsteps thumping on the floorboards until one paw grabs tightly onto my shoulder, the brutish fingers of his other hand closing around my neck.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AVON
The teacher holdsonto my throat while he slams the door, flicking the lock. Another surge of adrenaline hits me, and I stamp my heel onto his foot, drive my elbow back into his ample gut.
He’s bigger, but he’s soft. Unfit.
I scream and lunge forward. Trip and fall to my knees.
Most boarders at Tiaki are full-time. There are always people around the school. All I need is one to hear me. Come to investigate. Call for help.
But one meaty arm clamps around my torso, trapping my arms tight against my body as he lifts me. His sweaty fingers fasten over the lower half of my face, the force mashing my lips against my teeth. His wet mouth slobbers against my ear. “Shut your face. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
My nose is stuffy, half blocked as his hand crushes against it. The seal is tight over my lips. Air thins to a trickle as panic makes my chest pull harder, getting nowhere, pulse racing until sparks of light dance across my vision, the edges turning black.
I’ve been here before.
But it’s agonisingly worse because I looked up to this man. I respected him. He’s someone I should be able to trust. To feel safe with. A person in a position of authority.
“Who’d your alert go out to, hm?”
I wrench my head to the side, but his hand follows me, keeping its grip. The rolls of his stomach wobble against my back as I squirm, trying to twist free.
“The police?” Spittle hits my ear as he pops the p. “Your mother? Your friend?”
I must give something away because he laughs.
“You had me worried for a minute there, but all you’ve done is make things worse for yourself.”
He pushes me against a back table, taking his hand away from my mouth. The moment he does, I haul in a breath and scream again.
The hand smacks back into place across my mouth but stops pawing at my clothing.
It’s only been a few minutes since I sent the alert. I need to fight him for so much longer.
Unless Clare’s bundled in Wilder’s room. Forgiving him.
I pray that’s happened.
