My stomach rolls and this time, there’s no stopping the retching that follows. Blair must see what’s about to happen because she throws herself off of me.
I roll weakly onto my side just in time to spill the contents of my stomach onto the ground. Over and over I heave until every drop of alcohol has left my system. When I’m finished, a weak groan slips past my lips. I get my hands beneath me but as I push up my palms slip in the wet grass and mud and I end up face planting.
Right into my vomit.
The frustration that flares to life is snuffed out pretty quickly. I just don’t have the energy to feel it. With another huff, I try pushing myself up again. This time, I manage to get up onto my hands and knees.
What little relief I feel is immediately vanquished as a boot lands between my shoulder blades and pushes me back to my stomach, and face first into my vomit. Before I can lift my head, my hands are yanked behind my back and tied together.
I lift my head in alarm to see what’s going on but by the time I’ve managed to get my bearing, my ankles are bound too and they’re attached to my wrists. I’m efficiently hogtied.
“Blair!” I rasp out, alarmed.
“Shut up,” she snaps back, then grunts as she tugs on whatever ropes she has binding me. The motion pulls me further away from the cliff’s edge.
I struggle a bit but after a few feet of useless tugging on my restraints, I simply give up. The drive to kill myself has fizzled out. The adrenaline rush that had given me a jolt of energy thanks to the near-death experience, then Blair scaring the shit out of me, has waned. Now I feel phlegmatic. Time feels sluggish and my thoughts even more so.
Even when Blair manages to drag me into the flat bed of a truck, I don’t fight or care. I simply close my eyes and let the rain wash over me.
The caring starts, however, when she leaves me there and climbs into the cab.
“W-wait!” I croak out. “What are you doing?!”
She can’t hear me, so I’m not sure why I bother wasting the energy but I try again when the truck begins to back up, down the muddy trail here and I’m trapped in the back, sliding around on my stomach and dealing with cold pelting rain.
“B-B-Blair!” I call out when we finally hit cement.
She doesn’t stop. She drives me the entire rest of the way home in the truck bed, like I'm some game she’d bagged and tagged during a hunt. My face slams against the side of the truck bed as she takes turns too sharply to be done on accident. As I shiver and shake and brace myself for each impact, I can’t help but think about one thing.
This psycho bitch just saved my life.
Thank god.
Chapter 29
Rhett
The trek home is cold, rainy, and miserable.
I only notice that the truck comes to a halt because I’m not sliding from one side to another in the truck bed. A few minutes tick by before the lip of the truck bed opens and Blair hops into the back. Neither of us speak as she cuts the binds around my ankles and wrist. When she’s done she stands back.
“Get up,” she orders.
I’m so cold that even the marrow of my bones feel frozen. I can’t move even if I wanted to. So I don’t. I want to simply curl up and go to sleep. Blair’s not having it. She bends down, pinches the shell of my ear and yanks.
I yelp in surprise at the pain and follow her hand up so she won’t rip off the ear.
“Hey!” I croak.
“Don’t make me ask you multiple times to do something,” she snaps.
Without letting go, she forces me to scramble after her. We get down off the truck and head for the cabin. My feet aresteadier now and while my head is still swimming the drunken haze seems to have cleared a bit, too. I must’ve thrown up all the alcohol in my stomach.
“You can let go now!” I try to pry her hand away from me but that’s a mistake.
Blair stops halfway up the porch steps, turns and reaches down to whack my dick with the back of her hand. The air is knocked from my lungs and I wheeze as I double over.
“What the fuck?” I gasp out as she starts tugging on my ear again. “Aren’t people supposed to beniceto those who just tried to harm themselves?”
