Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Cunt,” a male voice says from behind me, and before I can twist around from my prone position or catch my breath, he puts his foot on my back, pressing me back down. “That’s where you belong, bitch, at my feet—and don’t you forget it.” His voice is low and growly and tense, laced with anger.
“Stop!” I yell, and the pressure disappears from my back.
He mumbles a curse and runs.
I cover my head and whimper as darkness tugs at me, and I’m in the woods again, those dark trees rubbing their ghostly fingers together, hard sticks and cold leaves under me, and I can’t move, can’t move, can’t move, and he’s on top of me, and I can’t breathe, can’t see his face, can’t stop him, can’t talk, can’t do anything and I want to make him stop, please, please, please, please—
“Ava! What the hell?”
Someone bends down to me, firm hands touching my arm and trying to turn me over. I shove them off, slapping at his fingers as I gasp for air. My stomach jumps and I let out a long wail. Shuddering, I suck in a breath and try to hold myself together.
You aren’t in the woods. You aren’t.
Don’t cry, Ava. Not here. You haven’t yet, and you never will!
I swallow down the emotions and roll over to my back, biting back pain that ricochets through my head.
“I’m…fine,” I finally push out.
“No, your knees are bloody. What happened? Did you fall?”
I blink up at Dane and flinch away from him, scooting to the side, but I only end up scratching my elbows more on the ground as white-hot pricks tingle up my arms.
“Someone hit me on the back of my head—” My voice hitches as I scramble farther from him and manage to get in a sitting position, rocking back and forth as I wrap my arms around myself. Deep breaths rush out of me. I dip my head to my chest. Inhale. Exhale.
“Who was it?” he barks out. “Tell me and I’ll find him!”
“For all I know, it was you,” I whisper.
“Oh, Ava.” He bends down and sits in front of me, staying a few feet away as if he knows any little thing will set me off. A long sigh comes from him. “I was in the restroom in the main building and just came out to hit the assembly then heard you yelling.” His gaze skates over me with a frown, and he reaches out. “Come on, let me see your head.”
“No!” I hit him on the arm with my fist.
He takes the first hit without even a twitch, but he catches my fist in his palm when I go for his throat.
“Ava, come on, sweetheart, just let me help you.”
“Leave me alone,” I manage to say, but that anxiety is rushing back, and my head spins, dizziness slamming into me as I try to stand up. Black dots dance in front of my face. I sway on my feet and his arms come around me and lift me up; I wiggle to get away. Ugh! I don’t want his help.
“Look, you’re upset. I’m taking you to the nurse’s office,” he says, his face tight with suppressed emotion. “You can tell them what happened and it’ll be alright. Things will be okay, I promise, I promise, I promise. Just take one day at a damn time. That’s what I do.”
Maybe it’s the tinge of despair in his voice that makes me stop squirming, or maybe it’s the careful way he holds me; either way, I ease up. I need a minute and it’s obvious he isn’t going to cart me away to some hidden place as he makes his way to the double doors of the main building.
“Hang on a sec. I need to…” I feel him adjusting me as he pushes the handicap button to open the entrance. My head rests against his arm, and he smells like fresh pine and spice. Looking up, I stare up at him, recalling our confrontation on the third floor last week, him telling me about his mom, how broken his words were. His face is more haggard than it was several days ago, cheeks hollow, the skin under his eyes bluish. His nose is red and swollen…
“Move out of the way, peons,” he says sharply as he stalks down the hall, and I hear the rumble of the underclassmen as they go to second period.
Someone jostles into my feet, and I wince as they mumble an apology and scoot away hurriedly.
“Don’t touch her, assholes!” he yells, sending a scathing look to whoever it was.
He’s halfway to the office when I tug on his sleeve.
He looks down at me, brow wrinkling. “Better?”
No. My head throbs and my knees buzz like bee stings from the cuts. “Wipe your nose before we go in. You’ve got some, um, white powder—”