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Grandpa taking care of our grandmother meant that we were definitely all running low on help, time and energy.
I couldn’t take that out on my dad.
“I’m headed down now,” I promised.
If I could get my stupid feet to start working, that was.
At least, I thought, it was the sheriff’s department. That gave me a little feeling of safety.
“I’m so sorry,” Dad said. “I’m still here at The Pizzeria. We had an oven mishap, followed by a drain mishap. Needless to say, this night has been a night from hell.”
I got up and nearly groaned.
My body ached so badly.
“I’m going,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to go by yourself,” Dad said. “But your brother’s at a murder investigation.”
“I promise, it’s okay,” I lied. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning. Love you.”
Because there was no way in hell, after I was done, that I was going to waste a precious few seconds that I could be falling into dreamland on hearing my dad bitch and complain about the toilets backing up.
I loved the man and all, but there was a time and a place for talk like that, and in the middle of the night wasn’t one of them.
If I’d been smart, I would have asked why the sheriff’s department was out on a boat, needing their boat fueled up, instead of at said murder investigation.
But, since my brain wasn’t working on all cylinders, I’d chosen to do the dumb thing and head out without doing any of my safety checklist.
Which included checking the cameras, talking with my dad or brother on the phone as I headed out there, and arming myself.
Nope, I totally disregarded all three of my ‘protect yourself’ items and headed right out the door, fully expecting to be met with a sheriff of some sort. Or his deputy.
Instead, what I was greeted with was an arm around my throat, and my body pulled against a lanky one.
I knew the moment he pressed his dick into my back that I’d fucked up.
Not only had I fucked up, but I’d disregarded every single safety precaution I’d ever had. I’d totally missed every single sign that there was.
“Glad you could finally make it,” I heard a man whisper into my ear. “Don’t scream.”
I couldn’t scream. He was cutting off my oxygen supply with his elbow hooked around the front of my throat.
I struggled, though. Hard.
“Let me go!” I screamed.
Though it was futile. The only air that escaped was a squeak, and not even that was enough to wake anyone up that was even remotely close to me.
“I’ll let you go.”
I could practically hear the lie in his voice.
He wouldn’t be letting me go.
He’d also make it hurt.
I could hear the edge of violence in his voice, just waiting to be unleashed.
“You stop struggling, and I’ll stop squeezing,” he urged.
I was going to stop struggling, mostly because I was about to pass out from oxygen deprivation.
But, surprising me, he let me go as soon as I settled down.
At least, a little bit, anyway.
He gave me just enough slack around my neck so I could draw a deep breath.
The stars that’d been dancing in my vision started to fade, and with it, my panic.
I’d grown up with no mother figure except for my grandmother. And even then, my grandmother was a rough-and-tumble sort of person. She was just as apt to kick your ass as she was to kiss it.
The only person that got away with anything with her was my grandfather, and even then, that was barely noticeable in her personality.
Needless to say, I knew how to fight. I knew how to hunt. I knew the hell out of fishing.
And I knew if I allowed the man that had me close to him in such an intimate hold, that if I didn’t fight, I wouldn’t be liking the outcome.
So, I fought.
I dropped my weight, twisted my shoulder, and all but slammed my attacker into the picnic table at my back.
I went to run, but the man’s hand latched onto my ankle and tugged me down with him.
We hit the ground and started rolling, over and over again, until we got perilously close to falling in the water.
He lifted up, reached his arm back, and snapped it forward.
With my head having nowhere to go due to the dock behind it, I took his punch straight to my face.
“You hit like a bitch,” I found myself saying. “My brother hit harder than that at nine.”
That seemed to enrage him further, but I’d already noted that there were a few options that I had, and all of them started and ended with me getting into the water.
I had a better chance at fighting him off.
One, I was really good at swimming. And two, I’d been checking bait traps underneath the docks since I was old enough to swim. I knew where to go and hide. I also knew how to navigate it in the dark.
