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“Sorry,” I mumble, though I don’t know why I’m apologising.
The air thickens in my lungs with every step I take upward. By the time I reach the upstairs hallway, everything’s a battle. My breathing is ragged, my heart thuds in a rhythm that’s all off.
The bathroom door is in sight.
“Ever Knight,” Stanley leers, suddenly blocking my path. His eyes glint with a darkness that chills me more than the sweat on my skin.
“Move,” I manage to say, but my voice is just a thread of sound, barely there.
“Why rush? Party’s just starting for us.” He smirks.
“I’m not interested,” I say, trying to sound firm. But my knees are jelly, my head’s spinning, and I know I’m not convincing anyone.
“Too damn bad.” He leans in, and I can smell the beer on his breath.
I want to scream, run, fight—but I’m locked in place, my body refusing to cooperate.
“Go to hell,” I spit out, even as fear coils tight in my gut.
“Already on my way,” he says casually. “But first, I’m going to win my bet.”
What bet?
He steps even closer, and every alarm bell in my head rings in warning.
“Back off,” I warn, pushing against his chest with hands that might as well be made of air.
“Come on, Ever. Don’t play hard to get.” He grins, and it’s all teeth—predatory. “You should feel special. I don’t usually work this hard for it.”
For what?
I need to get away from him, but my head spins, and I nearly throw up.
“Fuck you,” I grunt as my vision tunnels, and the edges of the world grow dark.
“Feisty,” he mocks, not even fazed. His hand reaches for me, and I dodge, trying to keep some space between us. But my legs betray me, shaky as a newborn deer, and every movement feels like wading through thick mud.
“Let me go.” The words scrape out, desperation edging into my tone despite my attempt to sound commanding. His laugh is a dark rumble that echoes in the tightening space around us.
“Sorry, darling. You’re not going anywhere.” Stanley’s fingers grip my arm; his touch feels like a phantom. There, but not. I jerk away, revolted by thecontact. My mind screams for me to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here like a lamb for slaughter.
Panic surges, a tidal wave threatening to sweep me under. I’ve faced bullies before, stared down sneers and whispered rumours, nasty words and caustic glares. But this is different. This is physical, immediate, and terrifyingly real.
“Stop,” I gasp, vision blurring, each word punctuated by a desperate hope that someone, anyone, will hear me over the thumping bass downstairs. But the party goes on, oblivious to my fear.
Darkness creeps further in at the edges of my sight, and I can’t hold it back much longer.
“Please,” I whisper, the fight draining out of me. It’s a plea, a crack in my armour, and I hate myself for it. But I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim in these shark-infested waters.
Stanley’s grip tightens, and I know I’m losing. My body sags against him, strength seeping out like sand through my fingers. I always thought I’d be braver, stronger, and would somehow rise above the rest when push came to shove. But here, now, I’m just another girl, trapped and fading fast.
“Shh,” he coos, a twisted lullaby for the darkness claiming me. “Just relax. It’ll all be over soon.”
My knees buckle, and I realise the truth—I can’t fight any longer.
Stanley’s fingers dig into my arm like iron claws as he hauls me through the crowd of oblivious partygoers. I stumble over something wet. The musicthumps in time with the pulsing fear in my veins, a sinister soundtrack to this nightmare.
Stanley pushes open a door to an empty room and shoves me inside. The slam of the door behind us echoes like a gunshot. My back hits the mattress as he tosses me onto the bed, my dress bunching up around my thighs, skin exposed and vulnerable. A scream claws at my throat, but it’s muffled by the thick air, heavy with my dread.
