“That’s how it felt for me that night,” Sandman snarls, pressing his forehead against my tear-soaked cheek. “I was in heaven, your lips on mine, your skin under my hands. Then you tore a hole through my fucking heart. How could you betray me? How?” he roars, shaking me to the marrow of my bones. “I loved you!”
“Sam.” His hand tightens around my neck. “Sandman,” I correct myself, fumbling for the right words. “I meant Sandman.”
“I would’ve done anything for you!”
“Please forgive me,” I gasp between broken coughs, swiping a hand across my runny nose.
“I’m going to be your hell on Earth.” His disdain-filled gaze rakes over me before he turns away and retrieves my purse. “Want this?” he taunts, presenting my inhaler like a cruel prize.
“Yes,” I croak past dry lips.
The monster beckons me forward. “Then come and get it.”
I take a hesitant step.
“No,” he clips out. “Crawl.”
Rough terrain bites into my skin as I sink to my hands and knees. Bleeding, half naked, and barely breathing, I push forward on quivering limbs—only stopping when my head bumps against his leg.
“Kiss my boots,” he commands.
Having no other choice, I plant my lips on one dust-covered boot, then the other. My tears drip onto the worn leather, creating miniature puddles.
“Now lick them.”
Again, I obey my tormentor, lapping the front of each boot clean. He ambles to my side and places his foot against my rib cage, roughly nudging me over.
“You belong to me. Every breath you take… every heartbeat… is mine,” Sandman proclaims, brutally grinding his foot into my chest. “Don’t bother going to the police. We own them. Cross me and your entire family is dead, starting with your beloved grandmother. I’m going to mindfuck you into oblivion… until you have no willpower left… until you’re nothing but an empty shell.”
He drops my inhaler and purse next to my head, then strolls back the way he came, whistling for his canine friends.
I scramble for the small metal canister and quickly breathe the medicine into my lungs. I lie there on the ground long after the monster is gone, digesting everything that’s happened. I can’t run. Even if I tried, where would I go? I’m trapped and completely under his control.
I spot the club from my window seat and pull the bell cord, alerting the bus driver to stop at the next designated area.
“Thank you,” I say, traipsing down the metal steps. “Have a good evening.”
“You too,” he chirps in a friendly tone.
I wish that were possible, but I’m too on edge. I tossed and turned all night, thoughts lingering on my ex-best friend, fearing he would be lying in wait to ambush me on my way to school.
Thankfully, he wasn’t, but that didn’t ease my mind. I took the long route versus cutting through the woods to play it safe. It doesn’t really matter, though. Sandman can get to me anywhere in Kent at any time. I know that with absolute certainty.
Every lesson went over my head, and my lunch was left untouched, despite skipping dinner yesterday evening and breakfast this morning. I can’t bring myself to eat anything.
Snake posed a whole other problem. He kept a watchful eye on me throughout the day—in the hallway, the cafeteria—and I even saw him standing outside several of my classes. No doubtreporting back to Sandman. His knowing glances and sardonic smirks sent my anxiety into a tailspin.
Meela and Leah knew something was up but didn’t prod for details. My trepidation grew and turned into a full-blown panic attack by the time last period rolled around. I had severe nausea and spent the entire class ensconced in the nurse’s office.
My life flashed before my eyes the instant the last bell rang. I was afraid to leave the building. Fortunately, Sandman hasn’t made an appearance thus far, but he can pounce at any given moment. He made it abundantly clear that my debt must be paid in tears, blood, and pain.
The worst part is not knowing when. Will he corner me today, tomorrow, next week? Constantly looking over my shoulder is exhausting. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, the Bible says. But what about forgiveness? How much of my blood will it take to satisfy his bloodlust? I hurt him. I don’t deny that, but does the punishment fit the crime?
The long cut on my torso and the teeth indentions on my clit are testaments to how ruthless he can be. Both war wounds are still tender, but it could’ve been a whole lot worse. He applied just enough pressure to inflict pain but not cause permanent damage or require a trip to the emergency room.
What untold horrors await me?
An icy chill skates through my veins at the thought.
