He chuckled. “Fine, be like that. We’ll have enough time to talk when we get there.”

I didn’t want to know where “there” was.

I refused to willingly go anywhere with him. He had to hold the gun at my head and forcibly drag me from the car. The place in front of us looked decrepit and unsafe. It was some storehouse, clearly abandoned, straight out of a horror movie. My scalp tingled where the nose of the gun was cold against it, easing ice into my bloodstream, pumping fear into my heart.

He hauled the large door open, kicking me roughly inside. I felt a little like I was in a daze. This couldn’t be happening. How was my worst nightmare really happening?

“You’re a little bitch, you know that?” he spat once the door had slammed closed and he shoved me to the hard ground. I bit my tongue to hold back the cry of pain, knowing he got off on that. It was sadistic.

He stalked around me, looking much like a coiled lion ready to pounce and tear its prey apart.

“I told you I would come for you and I did.” He flicked on a light, revealing a small table with a needle and bags of what looked like white powder. “You’ll pay for what you did to me.”

“What about what you did to me?” I cried out, surprisingly myself. “You raped me, Mike.”

He laughed. “Stop pretending you didn’t like it.”

“You are sick,” I hissed. “You need help.”

“Shut up!” he lunged at me, and though I tried to scramble out of the way I was no match for his physicality. He grabbed my arms and swung me up on a table. Something tightened around my waist as I struggled futilely to get free.

“You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded. “Please.”

He picked up the needle, pointing it incriminatingly at me. “Two years of my life you stole from me,” he growled. “You ruined college. Any sports scholarship I received was revoked. You royally fucked up the rest of my life.”

“You did that,” I wheezed, trying desperately to contain the panicky fear clawing at my throat.

“I said shut up!” he roared, viciously grabbing a bag of the drug and going to work so he could fill the syringe up with it. “You’re going to pay.”

He was so twisted and sick I didn’t know if the best mental institution around could even help him.

“I’ll scream,” I warned. “Somebody will hear me.”

He jerked around to where I lay. “Nobody will hear you,” he barked. My eyes were drawn to the needle he lifted, liquid dripping off the end. He grabbed my wrist, thumb skimming over the prominent vein there. “Not that I’ll give you a chance.”

I was desperate. I would try anything. He slid the needle into my wrist and I opened my mouth to scream, but some object I couldn’t identify came speeding at my face so hard I felt the impact jar my brain, and I was helpless but to fall into unconsciousness as the pain spiked red-hot through me.

~*~

My face throbbed when I came to. The space over my eye. My whole eye, really. Everything hurt. My teeth even ached from the force of the impact.

I took a shuddering breath, body feeling weak and limp. My wrist stung, too.

Something warm trickled down my temple. I didn’t need to look to know it was blood.

I tried looking around and blinked, but sucked in a sharp breath when it caused pain to explode through my head. What the hell did he do to me?

“Ah, you’re awake, good.” He sidled up to my side, another syringe in his hands. I spotted three more lying discarded on the ground.

“What are you doing?” I asked, horrified to find my voice was slurry and feeble.

“Ending you,” he replied simply. “There’s enough heroin here to get the job done.”

“Please, stop,” I begged. “Please.”

“Too late.” He slapped my wrist and eased the needle inside, slowly pushing down. I could feel the drug pumping through my system. I groaned, stomach churning and muscles clenching. “You would put me away for so much longer if I had stayed away. I’m glad I got to you in time.”

My lips moved but I couldn’t manage any words.

 “There, I’ll give you some time to digest that,” he stated, tossing the needle to the ground. “I’ll be back to continue.” He chuckled darkly to himself. “Don’t go anywhere.”

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