“Why that date?” My voice cracks.
“It’s my birthday, and I plan on having you as my birthday present.”
He jumps off me and grabs my shoulders, turning me and tossing me on my stomach. “But let me just leave a reminder for you. November is three long months away.” He traps my hands behind my back, pushing my lower back down.
The first touch of the sharp blade to my skin sends a sharp pain down my spine. And then it continues. My back arches and spasms in pain as my skin cracks open. He meticulously presses into me, cutting the flesh at my upper shoulder.
I scream in pain, and in vain. I’m in a drug house. No help is coming. No police.
Knocking comes from the door, and Charlie sighs loudly. The sharp pain stops, but the shaking of my body doesn’t. Blood must be soaking my skin because my shirt immediately sticks to my back.
“You better make good choices, Firefly. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll give you some time to get the money, but if you don’t have it by the date… your ass is mine. Literally.”
The weight on my body is gone. A second later the door squeaks and shuts. After that everything becomes a blur.
The pain. The cab I take to the ER, using my grocery money. The doctor, a middle-aged man, who rushes through his questions to me, cutting me off, barks his orders to the nurses. While I’m getting stitches, he asks me whether my injury was an accident or inflicted. With no hesitation I answer accident, and the doctor is about to say something but gets interrupted by a code blue call on the hospital intercom. He tells the nurse to give me instructions how to care for the wound and leaves without another word.
Any plans I had to escape my past by moving into the dorms at Bastien University this fall go out the window. I need to run away.
The last thing I remember before passing out on my bed is counting the days on my cell phone calendar.
Ninety-two days—that’s all I have left.
Chapter Eleven
Present day
He wants me. Not me, as a person. He wants to assault me because there’s no way in hell that I’m sleeping with him voluntarily. He’s a stalker obsessed with me. Why can’t he wait for the deadline he set? My stomach churns and acid creeps up into my throat, burning it.
Should I text him back to remind him of our deal? Of the deadline?
I’m doomed. He may have found me here, but I expected this, didn’t I?
New Orleans is 1,900 miles away—it’ll take him a while to find me there, and then I’ll move somewhere else until… I don’t know. Until he gives up?
I’m a prisoner to Charlie, but I can still save Abi, Alek, and Victor. As for Mom… well, maybe she’ll get another job and figure it out. Maybe she’ll have to run away too. Maybe this will push her to try to find the money. At this point though, I worry it’s not about the money anymore.
I sigh. No matter what I do, someone will get hurt.
* * *
The tossing and turning in bed lasts forever. And finally, when I’m unable to fight it any longer, my eyelids close. I can’t clearly make out the face of the man in front of me. The man swings his arm and a blade glimmers in the dark. His hand lowers in one swift move, and a sharp pain penetrates my heart. I sit up in my bed with my hand on my chest, panting.
The bedroom door swings open and Alek runs to my bed.
Shit. Now I’ve done it.
“What’s going on? You were screaming.” His voice cracks.
I grimace. I’ve put him through so much.
Victor appears at the door. His hair is messy and his eyes are still trying to adjust to the light.
“Just a nightmare.”
Alek kneels next to my side of the bed, and I reach out and hug him.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
