Page 17 of Secret Obsession
I pocket it with a small nod.
“We burn the rug, then we’re done,” Jacob says quietly.
The rest of them turn away, hurrying to get this job finished.
I pull out my phone and take a picture of the sealed freezer, smiling to myself.
6
WILLOW
Ahuge man staggers toward me, a knife protruding from his neck. His eyes are wild, and he reaches out. Like he needs my help. I rush toward him, but as soon as I get close, he wraps his hand around my throat and slams me to the floor.
My breath is forced out of my lungs. I choke, trying and failing to suck in air. His fingers tighten, cutting off any chance of inhaling. His other hand fumbles at my jeans, but he can’t seem to get them open. The terror that rips through me, that he’s going to rape me, is too strong. My nails scratch the wood floor, my heels slide without purchase.
White spots flicker around my vision.
And then my gaze locks on the knife in his throat, the one he seems unbothered by. He’s grunting, his head too close to my chest. He’s trying harder to get my pants open, and all the squirming in the world isn’t going to knock him off me. His hand loosens on my throat, sliding down and covering my breast.
Revulsion and desperation sweep up my spine.
With a cry, I grab the knife and yank it out of him.
Blood spurts across my face, drenching my skin. It gets in my mouth, in my eyes. Until it feels like I’m drowning in it.
Hands grip my shoulders.
I scream.
And then I’m awake, on my stomach, my cheek pressed to one of the couch’s scratchy linen pillows.
It takes me a minute to realize that Violet is shaking my shoulders.
I lift myself and roll onto my side, batting her hands away. My mouth is dry, and my heart is going a thousand miles a minute. I lick my lips and glance around the room, but it’s just the two of us.
“You okay?” Violet has the good sense to look worried.
I didn’t tell her anything. Not even that I was kicked off the dance team. We watched movies, and I dozed off, my arms crossed over my middle. I jumped at every little noise until I finally drank enough spiked coffee to shut my eyes.
And now it’s dark, and I have no idea what time it is. Or how long I’ve been out.
“I need you to stop asking me that,” I say in a low voice. “Please.”
She nods and reaches behind her, flicking on the lamp on the side table. I wince at the brightness of it, although it only takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. She’s in her sleep clothes, which must mean I slept most of the day away.
“Greyson got your car,” she says. “Here.”
She holds out my phone.
I take it and put it facedown on the cushion beside me. “Thanks.”
“School starts tomorrow,” she points out.
“Obviously.”
“Are we playing hooky?”
We. My eyes burn.
