Page 129 of Resurgent

"Yup! Now let's eat!"

Chapter thirty-eight

Annalise

"Hey guys, anyone else need to pee?" I shout over the music.

Em, Sash, and I have been at the Staggering Ox for a few hours, laughing, dancing, and drinking far too much—cocktails in their case, water in mine.

I haven't had a sip of alcohol since I woke up, and while I've always enjoyed drinks with friends, it's never been needed for me to dance and have fun.

“I can’t break the seal!” Emily yells back between laughs, clutching her drink like it’s a lifeline.

Beside her, Sasha shakes her head wildly to the beat, soft brown hair almost whipping people around us in the face as she points emphatically at her half-empty glass like that somehow explains everything.

"Okay, I'll be back!" I laugh, already searching for a path off the dance floor.

Weaving through the crowd, I practically choke on the suffocating scent of too much cologne and perfume before immediately wishing for it back just to spare me from the bad B.O. and too much booze.

Quickening my steps, I'm torn between wishing I was drinking so I would've been as oblivious to the toxic air as everyone else was and really glad I haven't had so many drinks that I'll be following their steps with the free bathroom body sprays.

I barely make it halfway to the hall before fingers clamp hard around my wrist.

My body locks instantly, every muscle going rigid as fear shoots up my spine.

“Emma.”

The slurred voice sends a man stumbling into my space, taller than me, broad, absolutely reeking of whiskey and desperation. Bloodshot eyes squint down at me like he’s trying to force my face into someone else’s memory.

“You came…” he mumbles, relief flooding his features. “I didn't know if you would…you’ve been ignoring me all night.”

My pulse spikes, but my voice comes out confident, “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

I try pulling my wrist free, but his grip only tightens.

“I’m not Emma.”

He blinks at me like I’m the one confused.

“C’mon…” His thumb brushes against my skin, and revulsion crawls up my arms. “Don’t do this.”

“I said let go.”

He laughs softly.

“Honey, I know I screwed up, okay?” His words slur together as he moves in closer, his hot breath rancid against my face. “I know I fucked up, but I didn’t mean it. I was drunk. She didn't mean anything”

I pull on my hand, but his grip is still iron clad.

“Let me make it right," he says, tugging me toward the bathroom. “Come on…let me make you feel good again.”

My world stops. The hallway disappears. The music vanishes. My vision tunnels. And for half a second—I'm back there.

Begging.

Screaming.

Not protecting the only life that mattered.