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A strangled sob tears from my throat as I bend a little to cover myself. He moves closer, closer than he’s ever been, and cold dread swarms through me.
“Please, don’t do this.”
Is he going to rape me?
My heart races, and as each horrendous thought passes through my mind, warmth trickles between my legs.
I hear the disgusted hiss from his lips, and before I know what is happening, he’s slamming my shoulders back against the tiles, knocking the air out of me.
“Why can’t you be thankful?”
Nothing could have prepared me for the feel of fingers wrapping around my neck. My eyes bulge when I realise he isn’t doing this to scare me into submission.
He’s going to kill me.
I wheeze through the little air I have left, using my gaze to try and plead with him to let me go. “Please!”
It only fuels his anger, tightening his grip on my neck. He lifts me off the cold, tiled floor, my legs dangling uselessly as I cling to the last bit of oxygen I have left inside me.
My eyes close, and I picture my parents in my mind. I remember the morning I left for my run, saying goodbye to them and kissing them on the cheek. A lone tear falls from under my closed eyelid as I think of how I will never feel the warmth of their embrace again, never get to tell them how much I love them and how great they were as parents. I think about all the things we did together, as well as the things we will never get to experience.
I think of my friends and family, the people I’ll never get to see again.
And then nothing.
Just darkness.
Like the light that was once blazing inside me has been snuffed out.
CHAPTER NINE
Damn flipping stairs.
Damn exercise.
I huff and puff, taking another step up. Whoever invented stairs needs to be held accountable for the people they’re trying to kill. Surely it has to be a crime.
“Why, oh why, do we pay our building maintenance fees when they don’t bloody fix anything,” I growl, stopping at the bottom of another flight of stairs. The instant I look up, I want to give up. My legs are burning, my feet are already throbbing, and I’m wheezing like I smoke forty a day.
I hate exercise with a passion.
And thanks to our lift being out of order once again, I’m now sweating, not prettily either.
Then there’s CJ standing next to me, his lips tipped down to hide his amusement. He doesn’t even seem effected and he’s carrying my crate that’s filled with books and two bags of luggage. It would have been one, but we needed to go out and buy something to put my goodies in, otherwise we would never have gotten them into the car.
I think the only time I’ve seen him sweaty is when he’s playing rugby. And he doesn’t even look like a drowned rat whilst sweating, no, he looks goddamn edible.
It’s unfair.
I whimper, wanting to cry.
CJ, the traitor, laughs. “You’re exaggerating, Cupcake.”
I wheeze again, one arm on the stairwell banister and one on my bent knee. I glare up at him. “They do this shit on purpose, I swear. It was broken before we left for break, and before we left, I told them it better be fixed by the time I got back—well, I got Jordan to do it, but the message was clear! I wanted it fixed. I was fed up of walking up seven flights of stairs.”
He throws the bags over one shoulder whilst stalking toward me. I stand up, wary. When he bends down, shoving his shoulder into my belly, I grunt, the air whooshing out of my lungs as he throws me over his shoulder before bending down to pick up the crate.
“CJ,” I squeal, gripping the back of his jeans with all my might.
