Page 66 of The Survivor


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I felt the hand grab my upper arm as I reached the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

He whipped me back as I sucked in a breath to scream.

And it was right then as I looked at him that I finally remembered.

How I knew him.

Where I knew him from.

My stomach plummeted, and my breath rushed out of me.

Soundless.

It wasn’t long.

But long enough for him to gain control, to place his bloodied hand around my throat, closing in hard, cutting off my air supply, making it impossible to scream as he started to drag me.

I walked backward with him for a moment before I remembered.

Dead weight.

My entire body dropped, removing his hand from my throat, allowing me to suck in a greedy breath, even as his other hand lost me as well.

I scrambled forward on all fours, a position that forced him to lean over to grab me again.

I flew upward, catching his chin with the back of my head.

Pain ricocheted through my skull, but I didn’t slow.

I rushed around him, as my hand went to my pocket, grabbing the shoelace, wrapping it around my hands, and throwing it around his throat.

I used every bit of strength, fear, and rage in me to pull, forcing him downward, giving me more leverage.

I heard strange, wet, choking sounds as his hands grabbed at the laces, at my hands, scratching the hell out of the backs of my hands.

But I didn’t let go.

I couldn’t let go.

Not until…

The lights came flying down the street.

Red and blue.

Half a dozen of them.

I was so in shock that I didn’t even hear the sirens until I saw the police cars pulling to a stop.

Doors opened.

Men rushed out.

Guns raised.

“Wells,” I cried, releasing my attacker, and stumbling back, then rushing forward to him.

I had no idea as I threw myself into Wells’s arms ifThe Silent Sadistwas alive or dead.

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