Nothing.
I shove again, putting my weight behind it. "Get out of my way!"
He stands there like a wall. I try to duck under his arm. He blocks me. I try the other side. He shifts, cutting off my path.
"Stop it!" My voice cracks. "Just let me leave!"
"No."
"You can't keep me here!"
"I can do whatever I want."
I pound my fists against his chest, desperation taking over. "Move! Let me out! I'm leaving!"
He catches both my wrists in one hand.
"Since you don't want to stay here with me," he says, his voice going eerily calm, "fine."
"What—"
He yanks me away from the door. I'm stumbling as he drags me across the room. Not toward the bed.
Toward the window.
"No! Wait, stop!" I try to dig my heels in, but it's useless. He throws the window open with his free hand. The night air rushesin, cold and sharp, and I can hear the wind howling three stories below.
"You want to leave?" His voice is flat. "If you're going to leave this room, you're leaving in a body bag."
"What are you—" He releases my wrists and his hand closes around my throat instead.
Before I can process what's happening, he's forcing me backward. The windowsill hits the small of my back, and then I'm bending, arching over it as he leans me out into open air. My upper body is suspended over nothing, held up only by his hand around my throat.
I try to scream, but his grip makes it come out as a choked gasp. My hands fly up to grab his wrist, my nails digging into his skin.
"Ilay!" His name tears out of me, strangled. "Pull me back! Pull me back!"
He leans me further out, my spine arching painfully over the sill. The wind whips at my hair. Three stories of nothing beneath me.
My legs are barely touching the floor now, and the pressure on my throat makes it hard to breathe.
His face appears above me, backlit by the room's dim light.
Then his fingers loosen.
Just slightly. I feel my body slip backward another inch, and a sob tears out of my chest.
"NO!" I'm clawing at his arm with both hands, nails breaking skin. "Please! Please don't drop me!"
His grip loosens again. This time I slip far enough that I can feel the emptiness beneath me.
"Would you rather stay with me in this room," he says, his voice barely audible over my sobbing, "or leave in a body bag?"
I can't answer. My fingers are cramping from how hard I'm holding his wrist, and I can feel tears streaming down my temples.
"I'll stay!" The words burst out of me, ragged. "I swear, I'll stay! Please, Ilay, please don't let go!"
"Still think you want to leave?" His grip loosens another inch.
