Cynthia will be the one to find my body.
I scratch as deep and as hard as I can at the back of his hand but my body feels like it’s swimming now and I’m weak-kneed and wobbly.
His grip slips, a swallow of air comes down my lungs, and I think I’ll live, but then he tightens his hold.
Fuck.
No.
Nolan will be so pissed I let myself die like this. I shouldn’t have opened the damn door and I should’ve called my brother instead.
I should have stopped fucking around with boys just because I could. Because Daddy didn’t love me, then Mommy gave me up, too.
I hear nothing beyond the pulse of blood in my ears.
My corpse will be next on the news.
Poor Cynthia.I’m sorry, Cyn.
I can’t breathe.
Everything is black. My body feels so heavy.
Fuck you, Will.
Then, just when I think I’m going to collapse, I’m gasping in air. Barely standing as Will’s weight disappears.
I snap my eyes open and rub at my throat, lowering my other arm but keeping the knife in my shaky hand as I see a familiar blond figure slam Will’s head against one of the eyes of the stove.
Will cries out, but the hockey player doesn’t make a sound.
He’s dressed in the same bomber jacket as last night, this time with a black scarf, black pants, and red Oxford boots. His black gloves come to the back of Will’s skull. He twists his head and slams it face-first against the eye again.
This keeps Will’s cries muffled.
But not entirely silent.
I swallow hard and before I can think through what I’m doing, right as Sylvan Connor’s blue-gray eyes meet mine, I slam the door of Darkmouth shut and click the lock into place.
TEN
NEVE
Sylvan says nothing. Will wriggles in his grasp, but Sylvan has his hip pressed against Will’s backside, keeping him in place, his nose smashed against the range.
Will is lucky neither Cynthia nor I used it this morning, although Sylvan wouldn’t have known that. And with the deadly calm look he’s leveling me with, I don’t think he would have cared if he did know.
He cocks his head, a blond strand falling free and landing just above his left eye. He looks arctic.
“What would you like me to do with him?” He asks the question casually. Like we’re discussing where to eat for dinner.
“How do you know where I live?” My voice is raspy and I rub at my throat with my free hand, the other still gripping the knife tight.
Sylvan’s eyes narrow at the sound of me.
Then he yanks Will back by his hair, only to slam his face down again.
This time, I hear something crunch. I think it’s his nose, and it sounds wrong. Blood spurts out on the countertop.
