The nurse put her hand on Georgie’s arm and guided her back to her room.
I MOANED, MY head rolling side to side as I repeated over and over in my head the word—No. A spider crawled over my skin, but it wasn’t a spider—it was blood droplets. I couldn’t move to push it away as the fear felt as if an oil drum sat on my chest. Oil. The rag. It was choking me.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t spit it out. The material scratching at the back of my throat making me gag.
My stomach rolled and swirled as the breeze swept across my face—his breath—Scotch. It was him. I had to run¸ but it was foggy. The shed was a long, narrow hallway now and I ran and ran but never moved.
No.
Stop. No more.
The words were in my head and I tried to form them, but the sounds were trapped in my throat. Moans. Strangled moans. Were they from me?
I fell to my knees and sobbed.
The shadow hovered over me. The glint of the knife.
I froze. Terror grabbed hold as I waited for the pain. The fear. The taste of my blood in the air.
I scraped my knees when he knocked me down then dragged me into the maintenance shed with the school’s lawnmower and gardening tools. The door clanged shut, making some of the metal tools hanging on the wall hit one another at the vibration.
I completely lost it.
Struggling against his hold like a shark caught in a net above water, I flailed, hitting him in the teeth with my fist. I even managed to escape and get a few feet from the door before he dove on me and we landed hard on the plank floor, the wind knocked out of me. “I didn’t expect such a fighter.”
He flipped me over and held my hands down above my head, but I still tried to get away. Desperate. Hoping someone would hear my screams, but the shed was far enough away from the main school that few people would ever walk by it.
I didn’t know who he was except that he was a senior. He had sandy-blond hair and a big, crooked nose as if he’d had it broken a few times. Wide features contained a stern, hard look in his eyes as if whatever cries I made would do nothing to change that unsympathetic gaze.
He raised my dress above my thigh and I freaked, screaming and kicking and crying. He pressed his hand over my mouth and then used his weight on top of me to keep me from squirming away. The cold edge of the blade pricked my throat and I shrunk away tilting my head to the side, kicking my feet but unable to move anything else.
“Stay still, damn it. I don’t want to hurt you—not much, anyway.” He ran the blade down my skin until it rested in the hollow of my throat. “Not allowed to. I could get into trouble.” I whimpered. He pressed the tip of the knife into my flesh and I tried to move away. He scowled and I stopped. “You know what happens if you don’t behave?”
No, I didn’t. I had no idea what this guy wanted from me, but I suspected and it made my blood run cold.
He laughed then clucked his tongue as he sat up, straddling me. I went to move and he sliced the knife across my arm. I screamed and he shut me up with a rag from the ground beside the lawnmower.
He slowly undid the buckle on his belt, and I started crying and sobbing beneath the oil soaked rag. He pulled the belt from the loops of his jeans.
I swallowed the bile, knowing if I threw up I’d choke.
“Maybe next time you won’t try to run.” He got off me, yanked me up so hard my neck cracked, and then I was on my knees with my back to him. He pulled my dress over my head and threw it aside, then pulled my arms behind my back and wrapped the belt around my wrists so tightly I lost feeling in my fingers within seconds.
“That’s a good girl. Relax and it won’t hurt.”
He ran his hand down my back, gentle and soft like he was caressing my skin. “A blank canvas. I watched you. So perfect and sweet, quiet. And then … ” He sighed. “And then the perfect opportunity came, and I was given the chance to fix you.” His hand on my back became rough.
Then I felt the sharp prick of the knife on my spine. I arched and tried to move away, but he shoved me hard in the back with the heel of his hand and I fell forward so my cheek was pressed into the wood floor.
“Now, don’t move, princess.”
Then the cutting began.
I sobbed quietly the entire time. It was as if he was drawing on me with his knife. He hummed as he did it, a joyful tune he repeated over and over again. It didn’t feel deep, as if he wanted to mark me, but not scar me.
Suddenly, it all changed and Deck was there. So was Connor. They were fighting him, trying to get to me. I was screaming and crying, but I couldn’t get free.
I couldn’t get free.
I couldn’t get away.
“Deck!” I flailed, kicked and sobbed.