Page 130 of Freefall

The last thing I see is TJ smiling down at me.

Then everything goes black.

I’ve experienced a lot of different kinds of pain in my life. The kind that hollows you out from the inside until you wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again. The pain of childbirth. The pleasurable kind—the delicious sting of Nate’s hand and teeth. But I’ve never felt pain like this.

It starts as a dull throb behind my eyes before spreading through every inch of my body. My mouth is dry, and my limbs feel like they’re rebelling against me. I can't even breathe without my stomach churning.

I groan, trying to lift a hand to my forehead, but it won’t move. My eyes snap open. Leaves sway overhead, the last of the daylight filtering through the branches. I inhale, the scent of the damp ground filling my lungs.

For a second, nothing makes sense.

Then I feel it.

Rope.

My wrists are bound behind the trunk of a massive tree. Another rope digs into my waist, pinning me against the rough bark. A quick glance down tells me what I already suspected. My ankles are tied together so tightly my feet are starting to tingle.

Panic crawls up my spine. I instinctively jerk against the ropes, but it’s no use. The bark tears at my skin.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

My head snaps toward the voice.

TJ leans against a nearby tree, one boot casually crossed over the other like he’s been waiting for me to wake up. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He pushes himself off the tree, and that’s when I notice the gun hanging loosely from his hand.

“TJ,” I croak. My throat feels like sandpaper. “D-did you drug me?”

The second the words leave my mouth, I know how stupid they sound. Of course he did. What other explanation is there? He doesn’t answer, though. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone.

“W-what are you doing?” This time my voice comes out as a desperate, pleading sound instead of coherent words. He raises the phone toward me, and a blinding flash clouds my vision.

I flinch.

He studies the screen for a second, then taps it. “Not my best work,” he mutters. “These phone cameras are shitty, but I guess it will have to do.”

My stomach drops. “Who did you send that to?”

He slips the phone back into his pocket and finally looks at me.

“Someone who took something from me a long time ago.”

The blood drains from my face, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.

He laughs quietly when I don’t respond. “You remember what I told you in the truck?”

I stare at him dumbly, my head throbbing too much to register what he’s saying.

“When people say it’s too late…” He takes a slow step toward me. “…it usually isn’t. They’re just too scared to fix it.”

My heart pounds against my ribs.

“I wasn't talking about you,” he says.

Another step.

“TJ, please.”