Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,31
next right and increased my pace.
But I couldn’t outrun the feeling.
Panic built.
Violent.
Vehement.
I looked behind me again.
There was a car a bit back in the distance.
A silver car that I could chalk up to being a rental. Innocuous and plain.
Most likely a tourist.
Trying to claim it, I faced ahead and tried to get it together.
I was fine.
I was letting the ghosts haunt.
The demons invade.
The paranoia cripple.
On top of it was the worry that I might not be able to pull this off. That I was going to be found out before I had the chance to make it right.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
My feet thudded the ground.
But the thunder was coming louder. A wild drumming in my ears that spread to my chest.
Out of sync with the music.
Drumming out of time.
Faster and fiercer.
My breaths grew harsh. Short, haggard pants as I pushed myself into the panic. Trying to flee.
And then a wave of it crashed over me.
Terror.
A surge of it nearly knocked me from my feet as I whipped my head around to see the car suddenly accelerate. It screamed up the street in my direction.
From harmless to sinister in a second flat.
I veered farther off the side of the road in hopes of getting out of the way.
I was being crazy. I was allowing fear to dictate.
Only I swore the car swerved in my direction.
Every nerve in my body fired.
Fight or flight.
I dove.
Pound. Pound. Pound.
I flailed through the air as the car raced by.
The ferocity of its energy burst in the air.
So close.
So close.
I slammed against the ground.
Hard.
A tangle of limbs and ripping skin as the momentum sent me tumbling.
Tumbling and tumbling.
Grunts and jagged cries ripped from my mouth.
I finally came to a stop.
Facedown.
Disoriented.
Shocked.
But alive.
For the flash of a moment, I lay there trying to process what had happened. As the paranoia tried to possess me the way it always did.
To convince me it was purposed, and the car had tried to run me down.
Memories of coming home to find flames devouring my condo that night invaded my mind.
Old fears screamed this wasn’t by chance.
It wasn’t by accident.
But how many times had I done this? How many years did I spend hiding at the back of my closet, shivering in terror? How much life had I missed because of it?
Both pain and relief suddenly splintered through my body as the adrenaline drained free of my pores and my nerves took over. A wail erupted from my raw, aching throat.
Disoriented and shaking, I pushed myself up enough to see the car skidding around the corner at the four-way stop up ahead. It disappeared behind a hedge of shrubbery the second it made the turn.
Choking out a cry, I slumped back down. Tears blinded my eyes and gasps ripped from my throat as dread hooked like splintery barbs into my spirit.
You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine, I silently chanted in an attempt to stave off the fear.
A shriek tore from my lungs when a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.
I jerked that way to find an older man wearing baggy swim trunks and a stained tee hunched over me.
His mouth was moving frantically.
Shouting.
Worry came off him in waves.
Overwhelming.
I braced myself against it, and I managed to shift around to sitting, groaning with the pangs that already were screaming from my muscles.
I ripped the earbuds free.
The second I did, his distress poured into my ears. “Can you hear me, girl? Are you okay?”
I blinked. My mind tilting from one direction to another. Panic and relief.
Before I could figure out how to respond, he lifted both my arms away to inspect me.
He whistled low. “Lord have mercy. You are busted up good. Leakin’ blood like a sieve.”
Slowly, my gaze traveled to where he was looking. In slow motion. My thoughts so muddled, I was having trouble processing.
The sight of blood dripping down my leg and arms triggered another rush of pain.
My right knee was split open in about a three-inch gash, and my palms were shredded, pebbled with tiny rocks and sand.
“I’ll get an ambulance out here. Dontcha worry, girl. We’ll get you patched up quick.”
Alarm raced, and the word sprang free on a shout, “No.”
My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, and I forced myself to get it together. “No. I think I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Don’t look so fine to me. I see some stitches in your future.”
“I really don’t think it’s necessary. I just…need to make a call.”
Dread glimmered. Different this time. Royce was going to lose it.