Windows.
I see light through the windows.
Natural light.
Morning.
It's fuckingmorning.
How many hours did I lose? The auction was mid morning. It should still be afternoon! It should be?—
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
I run harder, my vision tunneling on the front door. Just get to the door. Get outside. Flag down a car. Scream for help. Something. Anything.
"SCARLETTA, STOP!"
His voice is loud now, commanding, the same tone he used to make me come?—
I scream.
Not words. Just pure sound. Terror ripping out of my throat as I hit the front door and yank it open.
Cold air slams into me like a physical force.
Snow. Everywhere. Blinding white in the early morning light.
I don't care.
I run.
My bare feet hit the snow and I can't feel them. Can't feel anything except the burning cold against my naked skin and the desperate need to getaway.
He's calling my name. Still following.
I scream louder. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
There's no one. Just mountains and trees and endless fucking snow.
I keep running anyway. My legs are giving out, muscles turned to jelly, but the adrenaline won't let me stop. I'm sobbing now, gasping for air that burns my lungs, my whole body on fire from the cold.
"SCARLETTA!"
He's closer.
Too close.
I try to run faster but my foot catches on something—a root, a rock, I don't know—and I stumble.
Then he's on me.
His weight slams into me from behind and we go down hard, crashing into the snow. The impact knocks the air from my lungs and I can't breathe, can't scream, can't?—
"No no no NO!" I'm kicking, thrashing, trying to get away. "GET OFF ME! HELP! SOMEONE?—"
Something sharp pierces my thigh.
A pinch. A sting.
