Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“You listen to me, you little slut.” His spit hits my face while I strain for air that never comes. “If you ever so much as mention going to the police again, I’m going to make you regret it. You’ll wish you had never even thought of it.” He pulls me an inch or two away from the wall and slams me against it again, hard enough that my head bounces off it. “I will come to your room, fuck you bloody, and I will slit your fucking throat from ear to ear. Do you understand?”
I only understand I’m finally facing the biggest devil of them all. And he’s not interested in playing. “I said, do you understand?” He gives my throat another squeeze as if he could force the words out of me. I push up to my toes, hoping to relieve a little bit of pressure on my throat, but it’s no use. My lungs burn excruciatingly, begging for air that’s not coming.
Oh my god, I’m dying. He’s killing me. I beat weakly at his arms, but he just won’t let up. A rattling noise comes out of me, and even that isn’t enough to make him let go. I feel myself drifting away. I feel the life leaving me, and he’s not stopping. Why isn’t he stopping?
Something warm runs down my leg, and it takes me a moment to realize that pee is running out of me. The warm liquid trickles down the insides of my thighs, soaking into my jeans.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” he grunts, his face almost touching mine. I don’t even have the strength to try to pull his arm away anymore. My body is going limp. My body is letting go…
Darkness consumes me, and I sink into it. I have no other choice.
When I open my eyes, I’m on the floor. I’m not sure how much time has passed or what’s happening to me. I’m dizzy, I feel like I’m going to throw up, and every time I move my head, my vision swims. I feel like I’m underwater, but wouldn’t my body feel light if I was? Not like lead, the way it does now.
A pair of legs appear in front of me and whatever part of my brain is still working reacts. I try to push them away, but my arms are so heavy. I’m so weak.
Did that really happen? I can’t make it make sense, any of it.
It isn’t James standing in front of me, crouching and taking me by the arms. It’s Nix. Nix, whose expression is blank, who doesn’t say a word as he helps me to my feet. I’m soaked, and I stink like pee, and I’m so fucking weak.
Somehow, though I know it should matter, none of it really does. It’s like I’m floating above myself, watching Nix trying to help me down the hall. My legs are too weak and eventually give out on me—all he does is scoop me up and take me to his room. I don’t have it in me to fight him. I don’t have it in me to do anything but go limp in his arms.
That didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened. Not James. The things he said. He almost killed me, didn’t he? I felt myself dying. How is this possible?
Nix closes the lid on the toilet in his bathroom, then sets me down on it before reaching into the shower to turn the water on. There’s nothing snide about him, nothing cruel or nasty. He only takes off my clothes one piece at a time, moving efficiently. All I can do is try to help him along as much as I can, but I’m useless.
Once I’m naked, he leads me into the shower. It almost seems strange that he doesn’t follow me—isn’t that the point of this? No, all he does is place me under the water and soap up a washcloth, which he gently but quickly runs over my body.
The entire time, he never says a word. He doesn’t even look at me. I lean against the wall, still too wiped out to do much else. James. How could he do that? I can’t even put it all together in my head. It all feels like something that happened to somebody else. Not to me. Not from James. If it wasn’t for the water hitting me and the scent of the soap, I might think this was all a dream. After all, Nix is being nice to me. That’s the opposite of normal, too.
Once he decides I’m clean enough, he turns off the water and pulls out a towel from the wall closet. I just stare at it for a few seconds when he holds it out to me. Shaking his head, he wraps a towel around me and guides me out of the shower. He’s just as gentle as he dries me off, and it never occurs to me to do it myself. It’s hard enough for me to stay upright.