Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
The lock clicked open, and she turned to her neighbor—what was his name? He’d told her his name and she’d forgotten—giving him a quick smile. He startled slightly at her movement, his gaze shooting to hers. She saw desire in it. Desire and a sort of…indecision. Like he was contemplating saying something but wasn’t sure he should. “Well, goodnight,” she said quickly, scooting in the door and closing it behind her as she jogged up the stairs, holding her breath until she made it to the top, half expecting to hear her name called from below before she could safely enter her apartment. She unlocked the door and flipped the lock, standing on the other side for a moment, catching her breath. She let out a small laugh that ended in a groan as she pushed away from the door. “Silly,” she muttered. “Paranoid.” The awkward man was no threat. If he asked her out—and she had a sense he would sooner rather than later—she’d simply say thanks but no thanks.
Her cell phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts, and she froze as she saw whose number it was. He was calling back the number that had just hung up on him. Me.
Shit, shit, shit. She suddenly felt more sober. And smarter than she’d been five minutes ago. It sucked how her good sense could seemingly fade in and out that way. She couldn’t let her voicemail answer. She jabbed at the phone, answering it but not speaking. “Hello?” came his voice. Her stomach knotted, and she clenched her eyes shut. Despite her best efforts, longing singed her nerves. There was a pause before he said, “Josie, I know it’s you.” When she still didn’t answer, he sighed. “Meet me, Josie. Or I can come there—” She disconnected the call, hurriedly dialing her voicemail and changing it to an anonymous electronic greeting. And now she’d need to change her number again. I’m such an idiot, she thought. Such a weak, pathetic idiot.
In the bathroom, she stared at her face. Alcohol and self-recrimination mixed, and for a flash of a moment she was back there, in that small dingy bathroom in the house where she’d grown up, staring at her own stricken expression in the mirror above the sink while she listened to her parents’ angry yells, the inevitable crash of something breaking, her mother’s screams, the door slamming as her father left. She closed her eyes, remembering how it’d felt. Why was she thinking of that?
Quickly, she turned on the water and scrubbed her face free of makeup, tearing off the false lashes she’d applied a few hours before, the glue leaving angry red marks on her lids.
She climbed into bed and lay staring at the ceiling for several minutes, a lump lodged in her chest, an ache inside that she had no clue how to heal. Thankfully, sleep took hold, pulling her gently under its feathery wing.
She woke with a scream lodged in her throat, someone’s hands around her neck. Panic shot through her body—hot, immediate—bringing her quickly out of the deep sleep she’d been in. She registered a man in a black ski mask on top of her, his hands around her neck, his weight crushing her into the mattress.
Josie’s heart seized, horror spiking through her in pulsing waves. He made a movement with his hips, and she felt his erection. Oh nonono. Her mind went numb. She was only fight now. She bucked upward with her body, flailing outward with her arms, attempting to kick but unable to with his weight on her hips.
He laughed, a slick, oily sound filled with glee.
OhGodohGodohGod.
She couldn’t breathe. I’m going to die; I’m going to die. Hot tears leaked from her eyes as she writhed and twisted and fought, his hands around her neck only growing tighter as her body grew weaker, sparks bursting before her eyes as her brain struggled for oxygen. Suddenly he let go, and she sucked in a huge lungful of air, surging forward, his elbow connecting with her cheekbone in a jarring thud. She opened her mouth to scream just as something sharp plunged into her thigh. He held her down easily as whatever drug he’d given her shot through her veins, making her limbs too heavy to move, her brain thick, soupy. Once more, she tried to scream, but no sound came out.
The world went dark.
* * *
Ping. Ping. Her eyes cracked open slowly, a groan rising to her lips. Her head throbbed, and she shrank back from the small bit of light, eyes squinting. Oh God. Panic surged as she realized her arms were chained to the wall behind her. She attempted to pull loose, but the chains were heavy, unwieldy in her weakened state, bolted to the concrete with metal rings that had been drilled into the stone. She turned, her gaze flying around the room. Concrete floors, walls. A window high up on the wall. What was this? Some sort of warehouse room? Her head throbbed again. A man in a ski mask. He’d attacked her in bed. The prick in her thigh. And now she was here. Where is here? Hot tears slid down her cheeks as panic rose, her chest rising and falling. “Calm down,” she gasped. “Calm down, calm down, calm down.” She was going to hyperventilate if she didn’t get ahold of herself. It was daylight streaming in through that high window. Morning sun.