Page 82 of Slapshot Obsession
It’s difficult to get my timing right because I can’t see much. My best bet is probably to let the sound of the heavy object hitting the tempered glass guide me. If I get out right when I hear a hit, I hope my attacker will be gearing up to deliver another blow. That should give me a few precious seconds to run as far as I can and lose my stalker.
If I can’t run to camp, my best bet is probably to head to the gas station right at the beginning of town. It was openwhen I drove past, and I doubt my attacker will want to be seen by whoever works there.
With my hand on the handle, I listen for the next blow. My muscles are tense to the breaking point, ready to propel me out of the car and hopefully to safety.
It’s still raining outside; I can hear it through the noise my attacker is making and the pounding of my own heart in my ears.
Clonk.
That’s it. It’s now or never.
I push my door open and dart out of the car. The asphalt is wet and slick with water, and I almost immediately face plant before I’m even two feet away from my old Volkswagen Beetle.
Maybe my luck hasn’t completely run out though, because I don’t fall.
The good news is that I didn’t decide to wear heels to my exam. The bad news is that I went with cute ballet flats, and they don’t have a lot of traction on the wet ground.
It takes less than a minute for me to be soaking wet, but I don’t care. My eyes have gotten used to the darkness, and while I can’t really see much in this weather, I can see enough to keep running in some kind of straight line.
I’d be tempted to turn on my phone’s light, but I don’t want to help my attacker either.
There’s no doubt that my stalker is chasing me. I can hear their harsh breaths and they’re getting closer.
For a second, the rain decreases enough to help with the visibility, and I make the mistake of turning around to check how close my stalker is.
Not only do I spot the hooded figure closer than I was hoping. If you look behind, you can’tlook in front of you. My foot catches on something; I don’t know what. It could be some debris on the ground or a small pothole.
It doesn’t really matter.
This time I can’t keep my balance and I go down like a sack of potatoes.
My hands shoot out to take the brunt of the fall, and I land on all fours.
Something, or I should probably say someone, lands on top of me.
I scream as I fight to get away from my attacker. We roll around and I end up on my back.
My stalker is straddling me, but with the hood low on their head, I can’t see their face. All I can see is black, and I realize that they’re wearing some kind of face covering. Maybe a bandanna or a balaclava.
In the scarce light of this deserted road, I can’t make out any features. The one thing I can pick up on is the malevolence that radiates off of them, like a tangible energy.
My attacker is tall and strong. I can’t make out their build as I realize that their clothes are quite baggy.
It could be Gen. or it could be a man. But I refuse to believe it’s Nash. Despite what Jodie thinks, and despite the fact Nash saw me at that party, I just know that he would never torment me like this or try to hurt me.
My ears are ringing as I struggle to get free. The hooded stalker is heavier and stronger than me, and I’m pinned under their weight.
“What do you want from me?” I yell, but my voice is drowned by the blood roaring in my ears and by the rain still pouring on us.
There is no verbal answer to my question. But my attacker’s intentions are more than clear when I see a flash ofgray.
I don’t even know how I realize that they have a knife. Everything happens in the blink of an eye.
My fight-or-flight instinct takes over, and I know I just have seconds to break free, or these might be my final moments.
My knee goes up just as my stalker shifts their weight back and moves their arm back to bring the knife down on me.
I hit as hard as I can. I don’t even know if I get their crotch or their stomach, but my attacker’s balance is off and they fly off of me.
