What If You & Me (Say Everything #2) - Roni Loren Page 0,108

in her head. Had she just forgotten to turn on the light?

She couldn’t remember flipping the switch, but it was a habit. She also didn’t remember grabbing her purse, but she’d obviously done that. She slid her keys between the knuckles of her left hand, pointy side out, and tucked her other hand in her purse, anxiety welling in her.

Breathe. Think through the logical explanations first.

Maybe the light bulb had burned out.

Maybe she’d forgotten to flip the switch since she’d been excited to get to the event.

She’d played this game with herself so many times, it was like second nature. She’d learned the technique in therapy early on—not going to the scariest, worst-case scenario first. But her brain was still trained to do exactly that. The horror writer was imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios.

She glanced back toward her car, which was now as far away from her as the front door. She let her gaze travel over the front yard and the side of the house she could see. There was barely any moonlight tonight, but she didn’t see any lurking shadows besides the outline of the garbage cans and the bushes. The only sound was the breeze through the trees and the steady drone of crickets.

Only a few steps to the door, she told herself. You have an alarm. No one is in the house.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, pulled her pepper spray out of her purse, and forced herself to move her feet. She tried to imagine the warm light of her living room, the safety of the locked door behind her. She tried to tell herself that she was fine. She was just on edge from the emotional night.

But as she made her way up the porch steps, her gut instincts were screaming at her. She stopped pretending she was calm and speed-walked to her front door. But right before she got her key in the lock, a board squeaked on the porch—and she hadn’t moved her feet.

Panic was like a lightning strike within her—hot and instant. She spun to her right, pepper spray aimed, but before she could fire it, someone grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm so hard, the canister dropped from her fingertips, clattering to the floorboards.

She yelped, the pain in her shoulder stealing most of her breath, and she tried to yank free. But whoever had her was bigger and stronger, twisting her arm behind her back. She parted her lips to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound.

Her mind was on fast-forward, the whole thing taking on a surreal quality. This had to be a nightmare. She’d imagined this scenario so many times that it couldn’t possibly be happening. This isn’t happening.

Her attacker pulled her back against his body, her arm still pinned behind her, and laughed. His breath reeked of cigarettes and beer. “You stupid bitch,” he said, sounding so damn proud of himself. “What can we learn from this? Obviously, you haven’t learned shit. You made this too easy. Didn’t even get your mace fired. Poor Andrea.”

Evan.

Terror filled every cell of her body. He’s found me. The feeling was old and familiar. Lying next to a serial killer, waiting for him to fall asleep, hoping to God she made it out alive. Her worst nightmare all over again. But she forced herself to push through the swirl of flashbacks, not to lose herself completely in the panic. Panic could lie.

This couldn’t be Evan. Evan was in prison for the rest of his life. And replaying the words in her head, this guy didn’t sound like him. What can we learn from this? He’d said that. This was someone who knew her podcast.

She closed her eyes, forcing her voice into something resembling calm. “What do you want?”

The words were muffled against his hand, but she knew they were loud enough for him to hear.

“To see you just like this,” he said. “Terrified. Shaking. Ready to beg me not to hurt you. A useless little girl who thought she was soooo smart, who acts like she’s tough shit online but is just a dumb bitch who could be grabbed right off her own front porch. Your minions would be so disappointed.”

Online. Her minions. She couldn’t believe it. This guy was a fucking troll? She’d been grabbed by some butthurt dipshit from the internet? Her body was trembling from the top of her head to her toes, but she absorbed his words, letting