Page 94 of Breathe Like Hell

I looked at him over my shoulder, anger curling through me. “No. I’m not going to drop it. You owe me some sort of answer about something.”

“I don’t.”

“You do! Are you serious?”

Before I had the chance to prepare, he grabbed the back of my head and violently shoved me forward, submerging my head in the water. Pure, undiluted fear shocked my entire system as water streamed into my nose and I choked on the air he wasn’t allowing me to have.

After a second, he let me up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I screamed, trying to stand up, but he just held me down.

He escalated so fast it horrified me.

“Everything. Everything is wrong with me.”

And then I was below the surface again, fighting him, realizing I never got a good breath in. The angle was terrifying and his strength was terrifying and I couldn’t believe I’d let myself be trapped here again with him. I shouldn’t have been surprised with his roughness, but somehow I was.

Mason was always so much worse than I thought. It was about time I finally remembered the version of him inside my head didn’t exist. The version who only hurt me because I wanted him to.

The real Mason would hurt me for any reason at any moment. I couldn’t predict him.

I needed to hammer that truth into my forgiving brain, make myself bleed with it, but the water was making it so hard to think, so hard to commit anything to memory except the feeling of fighting for my life.

I gasped as Mason yanked me up, water pouring off my hair all around my face, loudly streaming into the tub. I coughed and choked, gasping.

“Are you done?” Mason asked.

“No. I can’t wait until I leave here so I can go to Micah’s house, and he’ll never let you see me again,” I spit out, my tone full of venom.

“Do you think I give a fuck about what he’ll let me do? He can’t keep me from you, Dakota.” My heart was beating too hard, my pulse flying too fast. His fingers were tightly gripping my hair, pulling hard on my scalp. “No one can take you from me.”

My head was pushed below the water again, air bubbles exploding from my lips as I screamed and thrashed.

Please just fucking stop.

When he finally let go, I was more ready this time.

I spun around, clawing at him with my nails, wet strands of my hair plastered on my skin down to my ass. Wrapped around my upper arms like rope, clinging to my waist.

My hand cracked across the side of his face, my palm stinging.

“This is why the fuck we’re not going to end up together!” I screamed. “Because you are a fucking psychopath!”

I tried to run past him out of the bathroom, but he caught me with his hands looped around my waist, yanking me off my feet and into his arms.

“You can’t leave me, Dakota.”

I shook my head again and again, pushing him away. But he wouldn’t fucking budge.

He grabbed my face with two hands and forced me to look him in the eye.

“Do you want to leave me?” he asked desperately.

My chest was heaving and my eyes were stinging and I really, really wished I wanted to say yes. But I didn’t. There was a difference between knowing what was best for me and knowing what my pathetic, bleeding heart actually wanted.

I couldn’t speak as a single tear tipped over my lashes. I shook my head.

No, I don’t want to leave you.