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I splash water on my face, determined that I have to do something. I stare at those blue eyes looking back at me. Their monologue is quickly reminding me of what a fucking idiot I’ve been.
I’m grateful that the bathroom is empty, desolate. I giggle a little noticing that it feels like weeds are gonna roll by. It’s ominous and creepy, because death is in the air.
I glance back to the mirror, more focused on how I look, freaked out, I don’t even look like myself.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I whisper to myself, ending it with a tiny smile. If I tell myself this, it’s gotta be true, right?
I think I just need to go find the Dean or maybe even that fancy woman that must work here. The one that came and talked to me and my dad. I have to let somebody know what’s going on.
I don’t exactly know what Chris did, if he did anything that would warrant what he got. If he did do something, he should be rotting away in jail, not in the ground.
I splash my face again, determination coursing through my veins. I start to dry my hands. Maybe deep down inside I prayed that I had dreamed it all up or at least part of it and it didn’t really happen. This is the life that rich people live.
I shake my head, they pay off anyone, the rich and powerful can get out of everything. It’s like they’re freaking above the law. The dread falls back over me again, wondering even if I did something, would it make a difference.
I breathe in and out. Deep controlled breaths. In through my nose and exhale out of my mouth. I’m recognizing the early signs of an oncoming panic attack. I haven’t had these since I was a kid, nightmares that have been plaguing me forever.
I place my hands on the edge of the sink remembering what I was taught with my breathing exercises, over and over again.
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself when the bathroom door opens and quickly shuts behind someone. I hear the unmistakable ominous click of a lock as I keep my head and eyes focused down, praying that they’ll use the bathroom stall with no communication so that I can sneak back out.
Unfortunately that doesn’t happen. Instead I hear the walk, relaxed and maneuvered steps straight for me. The ominous darkness of the shrill sound causes the tiny hairs all over my body to stand up. If I had hairs on my toes, they would be up, too.
My breath catches as a man who I now know killed the governor’s son is locked in the bathroom with me. Blocking my way from getting past. The ominous click of the door earlier, told me everything I needed when he walked in.
I still haven’t looked up yet, but I just feel him. I feel the darkness penetrating the air. The feeling of every cell in my body screaming out that this is a place that I don’t need to be right now. I need to move toward safety. I need to get the fuck away from this man, and out of this damn room.
I brace as I glance up, my eyes blurred from the unshed fear that is lingering there.
He screams of death and redemption. “I haven’t told anybody,” I blurt out, “and I don’t plan on it.”
This beautiful specimen that screams of darkness watches and waits, only a few feet behind me probably wondering if I’m telling the truth or not.
Maybe I should scream. I don’t want to die in the girls’ bathroom at a college university.
He jumps at me, literally fucking jumps a few feet, painfully locking my arms behind my back. He leans his head down to my ear. “Do you plan on telling anyone? What will happen if you do?” His voice is dark and thick, naturally flowing over every pore of my skin, sinking in and causing me to shake.
He starts to move his hands up and down, releasing my trapped arms. I get chills remembering how close I was to him. This man is freaking huge and deadly. Most likely remembering what happened the other night also, he grips my hands with onefist behind my back and pushes me against the cold bathroom tiles sideways.
His left hand is holding my hands behind my back as my left cheek is firmly pressed against the white subway tile that’s decorated the whole bathroom. The white ugly tile.
He inhales, slightly groaning and moving his body closer to mine. His grip tightens painfully on my hands, arching my chest back as his right hand comes up slowly, sneaking over my cargo pants and underneath the T-shirt I wore today.
“What are you doing?” I snap out as I push backwards, trying to get his hand out from underneath my shirt. He’s way too strong, he keeps my movements in place, not even allowing me an inch of escape.
“Who are you?” He asks as his hand barely brushes the bottom of my boob.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl back as I frantically try to get away.
“The last thing you ever get to see.” The fight leaves me immediately, and all I feel now is fear.
Chapter
Twelve
Reaper
She is utterly shaking and perfect to play with. Like a divine wild animal that is caught within my clenches.
