cutting me off. A scream rips from my throat, but the sound is muffled beneath the hand that’s pressed firmly against my lips. Pulled back against a firm chest, a thick arm of muscle wraps around my middle, restraining me completely. All I feel is a hard body against my back as I’m practically carried away from the door.
Panic like I’ve never felt before rises up inside of me, and instantly I start to struggle, my fight or flight instincts kicking in. Those instincts do me no good when the man holding onto me is so much bigger and stronger than I am. Fighting is a waste of strength and effort, two things I’m already lacking. Tears prick my eyes and hot breath fans against my ear.
I wasn’t wrong. Someone was watching me, and now he’s got me. Now he’s going to hurt me. Rape me and kill me. He’s going to get what he wanted all along.
Kicking out my legs, the heel of my foot lands against my assailant’s shin, and a grunt fills my ears. The kick isn’t enough for him to release me though, so I continue fighting. I won’t be a helpless victim again. I won’t let him hurt me without a fight.
A million scenarios run through my head. Opening my mouth, I feel his flesh against my lips, and it hits me then what I need to do. What I should’ve done all along.
Biting into the meaty flesh of his palm, I sink my teeth deep like a dog and don’t let go, not until he forcefully pulls his hand away.
“Fuck,” he growls. The timbre of his voice is deep and frightening, and fear blankets my insides. I do my best to tamp that fear down, but it reminds me of a time when I was helpless and had no one. Putting everything I can into getting away, I let out a horrid scream, knowing this is probably my one and only chance of having someone hear me.
Instantly, his hold disappears and shock courses through me as I twist around coming face to face with my attacker. Is this a game to him? I don’t understand why he let me go, maybe to leave me feeling hopeful?
Flattening myself against the wall, I look at him. He’s tall and handsome, and for one single second, I’m stunned like a deer seconds away from death. Standing there, I stare at the man who has been following me.
The same man who was sitting in Sharon’s waiting room with me hours ago.
He lifts his hands, and I flinch. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he says. His words don’t match his actions though, and when I look into his eyes, I see emptiness. I see someone without a conscious, without the ability to feel. It chills me to the bone. I feel like prey caught in a trap, and here right in front of me is a predator.
Taking a step to the side, I slide along the wall. My gaze flicks to the door and then back to him. If I want to get out of here alive, I’m going to have to be fast. He’s definitely stronger than me, but I might be faster, especially if I can catch him off guard. I don’t care if he says he’s not going to hurt me. I need to get out. Get away from him.
All I can hear is my heartbeat hammering in my ears. A rush of fear ripples through me as he takes a step forward, partially blocking the front door. My throat closes, and it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
Run. Escape. I internally scream at myself, but it feels like my feet have blocks of concrete attached to them. Snapping out of it, I turn on my heels and rush toward the kitchen. If I can just get a knife or something to fight him off. I toss anything and everything in my path at him, but nothing deters him, and I don’t make it far before he catches me. His hand wraps around my wrist, and he tugs me backward, causing my body to collide with his chest. The air is forced from my lungs with the impact.
His strength is a reminder that I am nothing more than a fly in the fight against him. Wrapping both arms around me, almost as if he’s giving me a bear hug, he picks me up and presses me to