There’s nothing behind Craig’s house except a dense wooded area, and when I see that’s exactly where she’s leading me, my discomfort transforms into full-blown panic again.
My chest pumps faster, and the girls close in around me, sensing my flight mode being triggered.
“Where are we going?” I ask quickly, my shaky breath billowing out before me in clouds.
“Nowhere you don’t deserve,” Stacy answers cryptically.
Nowhere I don’t deserve.
Which means wherever they’re taking me is really fucking bad.
My body fills with an anxious heat, and I cast another glance around, but I still see no way out. My pulse thunders, sweat blooms across my nape and lower back, and it feels as if my blood sugar has dropped, making me jittery.
Even in the darkness, the light pollution offers enough of a visual to tread through the trees without face-planting, though my feet snag on a twig or two as we venture deeper. The crunch of leaves, grass, and branches prick at my nerves, and with each step, my body tightens further with the instinct to start swinging and kicking.
Just as the palpitations in my chest reach stroke levels, we stop. In the distance, lights from Craig’s house glimmer, and the faint noise of their partying filters into the night air.
I glance around, not understanding what I’m supposed to be looking at until Stacy shifts to the side.
“Oh, fuck.Off,” I hiss, taking a step back and bumping into a girl behind me. She grabs my biceps while Stacy holds tight to my hand, but I’m prepared to deck both of the cunts to get free.
A grave.
He dug a fuckinggrave.
I’ll wear the fake blood and the date of his mother’s death, but I will not allow them to bury me alive. I’d rather die fighting them than die inhaling six feet of dirt.
“Let me go,” I snap, my voice wobbly as I roughly rip my hand free from Stacy’s. It takes an extra second to fully dislodge it, but at this point, my adrenaline has taken over, and she has no fucking choice.
Irritated, she growls in response, but the sharp ringing in my ears muffles it. Panic and adrenaline set every one of my senses on high alert. My vision, my smell, even my taste have all sharpened.
The girl’s grip on my arms tighten as I attempt to wriggle out of her hold next, and the others crowd in further. My fists ball, my knuckles straining against the delicate skin over them. I’m milliseconds from swinging my way out of their barrier when Stacy pipes up.
“You aren’t going to die.” She speaks as if I’m stupid, judgment and annoyance evident in her tone. “None of us would go to prison over you, Reverie. You’ve ruined enough lives. Don’t think you’ll ruin ours, too.”
Her assurances do little to ease the terror pumping through my system. Does she expect me to just take her word for it? Logically, I understand what she’s saying, but also, what sane person would lie in a grave surrounded by people who might not be willing to kill them, per se, but who certainlywantto see them dead?
When I shake my head, instinctively backing away and into the girl behind me again, Stacy exhales a heavy breath, as if I’m being unreasonable.
“Help me get her in there. Hold her arms down.”
“No!” I screech, and just as I swing out an arm, the girl behind me crushes me in a bear hold, trapping my arms beneath hers.
That doesn’t deter me from fighting—kicking my feet, thrashing my body, and even throwing my head back. She sees it coming, though, angling herself to the side and dodging the broken nose.
However, I do stomp on her foot, earning a growl and a kick back right in the ankle, but I hardly feel the pain and keep thrashing. I manageto catch one girl’s hand with my foot, causing her to hiss and shake it out, and another girl comes within a centimeter of getting her teeth knocked in.
Hands grab at several parts of my body before I can do any more damage. Despite how hard I fight and dig my heels into the ground, they finally send me flying into the hole after another minute.
I land awkwardly on my side, my shoulder and hip taking the brunt of the impact. I cry out, agony lancing through my body in brutal waves.
“Fuckingcunts,” I hiss, a hefty dose of murderous rage swirling into the mix.
With a pained groan, I roll onto my back and find the girls circled around the grave, staring down at me. I can’t see most of their expressions beyond the shadows, but the ones I do glimpse are perfectly blank masks, not even the slightest hint of regret or sympathy.
They’re quiet as I pant through my terror, fury, and pain. For now, I keep still. They’re not trying to bury me, so until that happens, I decide to preserve the little energy I have left. If this is the worst of it, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut and wait until they walk the fuck away. I’d rather take their creepy staring than dirt flying into my face.
A branch snaps, and the sound of leaves crunching grows louder, ratcheting my heartbeat up another notch.
