"But the librarian left!" I snap.
I breathe in and out, in and out. It doesn't help. We're all alone.
He had to know we'd be all alone!
Sam takes a careful step forward and I answer with one back.
"You knew she was leavin'!" I accuse.
"We both knew, Ror. Remember, she walked out the same time as us last Thursday? She leaves at six, but the library stays open 'til seven. See?" He gestures to the room. "The lights are on, the doors aren't locked." He's still using that gentle tone, like he's talking to a cornered animal.
And that's exactly what I feel like.
But he's not going to fool me with that fucking tone. He knew she was leaving at six - hehadto have planned this. I snatch my bag off the floor and reach for my books, but he takes another step toward me and I back up again, my books forgotten.
My eyes well up.Fuck!I can't crynow!
But my eyes don't listen, and my tears start to fall. I hate myself for being so weak. But he's too big, strong and powerful - dangerous.
Just likehim!
"Calculus!" I sob.
"Oh, God, Rory. Don't cry. Everything's fine. We're fine, okay?"
But I can't catch my breath, and I can't stop my tears. I feel him touch my arm, just like he has before, but it doesn't comfort me, and I start to tremble.
I reach for the side pocket of my bag, but I'm too frightened to take my eyes off Sam, I don't know what he's going to do, and I don't know how to stop him. All my self-defense knowledge has abandoned me in my state of distress.
"Please!"I sob, visibly shaking.Please don't hurt me! Please let me go!
Before I know what's happened, Sam has his arms banded around me. I try to shove him off, but he holds strong. I cry and cry, as my heart beats erratically, way too fast, my breath evading me each time I try to catch it.
"Calm down, Ror, you're fine. I'm not going to hurt you. Youknowthat. I wouldneverhurt you, okay?" he says softly into my ear.
I wait for him to push me up against the wall, or down to the floor. I wait for his hands to take advantage of my helplessness. I wait for his tone to change, for him to spit the nasty vitriol.
But it doesn't happen.
Sam just holds me and repeats over and over again that I'm fine and that he would never hurt me. I'm still not sure I believe him. I'm not sure what to believe.
His hands slide soothingly up and down my back, and I realize he's been doing that for some time. I also realize that I have, in fact, started to calm, and I suck in deep breaths, filling my lungs with much-needed air.
"That's it, Ror. See? You're okay," he whispers, his fingers stroking my hair with practiced tenderness.
I surrender to Sam's hold, vaguely aware it's all that's keeping me together right now, and I reach around to the pocket of my bag and grip the zipper pull.
"You don't need them, Rory. Look at you. You're fine. You're calming down. You don't need a pill," he whispers insistently.
And I realize, I think he's right.
I have calmed. I haven't taken a pill.
Sam doesn't rush me, and I wait until I finally have a stronghold on my breathing to pull back just enough to peek up at him. His distress takes me aback. His strong brow is deeply furrowed, and his midnight blues glisten with unshed tears.
God, I must have really rattled him. Shame surges through me and I avert my gaze.
It's then that I realize he isn't just holdingme,I'mclutching the back of his tee shirt for dear life.
