Page 155 of No Good Fight

My back collides with the wall before I register the pain in my face. The building shifts sideways, and I put one hand out automatically because I can’t tell where the floor is anymore.

Preston grabs me before I fall.

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice has changed completely now. The calm is gone. “You keep pushing until somebody has to stop you.”

I claw at his wrist.

He shoves me away hard enough that I hit the floor this time.

My injured head takes the impact badly.

Light flashes behind my eyes.

I try to get up anyway.

His shoe catches my side before I make it to my knees, and the force rolls me against the wall. I cover my head with both arms and curl inward because there isn’t anything else to do.

“You could’ve stayed,” Preston says somewhere above me. “Everything after that was your choice.”

Another impact lands against my shoulder.

I hear Mrs. Vance screaming at him through the wall.

“You could’ve stopped this at any time, Alexandra.”

I know those words.

Every bruise I hid. Every apology I gave him after he hurt me. Every night I lay awake trying to figure out which part of myself I needed to remove so he would stop finding reasons to punish me.

I lower one arm enough to look at him.

“You’re still blaming me.”

He stops.

Blood tastes metallic against my tongue. Breathing hurts, and my vision refuses to focus properly, but I see his face clearly enough.

Even now.

Even here.

“You’re killing me,” I say, “and somehow you still need it to be my fault.”

His expression twists.

The next hit comes harder.

After that, keeping track becomes difficult.

I know I’m trying to move. I know my hands find the floor and I drag myself toward the hallway because Mrs. Vance is still alive and somewhere close. Sometimes Preston’s voice reaches me. Sometimes the pounding in my head swallows it.

I get farther than he expects.

Maybe only a few feet.

It feels like miles.

He catches my ankle and drags me back across the concrete.