Page 12 of Finish Line

“Yeah, him.” He snaps his fingers. “I always forget his name. I guess whatever my cousin did fucked up his insides enough that the doctors weren’t able to save him.”

Evan loves every minute of telling me.

He has to be lying. There is no way Cam’s dead. My lungs constrict. I can’t breathe. He’s lying. He has to be. I would feel it if Cam died.

“You’re lying.” I spit out my, anger growing, but I don’t know if it’s directed at him or myself.

“No, I’m not.” He reaches around him and pulls out his phone.

He shows me a text. I move closer to look.

Hey Evan, did you hear that Cam Wright died? They found him lying on some back country road. Can you believe it?

Under that one, a few more texts state the same. Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to cry in front of this asshole.

“I brought some pictures of the others with their girlfriends for you.” He brings the phone closer to me, but I turn my head, refusing to look.

“Well, that’s not nice.” He backhands me. “Since you don’t have your little harem anymore, I thought you might be looking for a new one, and I want to try out for it.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I reply through gritted teeth.

“Naw, I’d rather fuck you, but my cousin said I’m not allowed to do that…yet.” He stands up, putting his foot on my chain so I can’t move.

He pulls down his pants, bringing out his dick.

He strokes it in front of me. “Look at me, whore.”

I turn my head away from him. With his other foot, he pushes me down. The second I’m on my back, he’s straddling me. With lightning speed, he captures both of my hands and put them under his knees.

Fuck I’m trapped.

I wiggle back and forth and try to pull my hands out from under his knees, but I’m so weak.

He laughs. “Now, where was I.”

He strokes his dick a few times, then he kneels up and smacks it against my cheek, laughing.

“Come on, slut, you want to choke on this.” He goes to smack me again or try to put it in my mouth.

Whatever it might be, I’m ready. When he gets close enough, I try to grab it between my teeth.

“Ohh, you’re feisty, and I love it,” he moans out.

All I can do is wiggle from side to side, which turns him on more. He ruts against my thrashing body.

I raise my head to glance at where I put the stick under a box with junk in it. I can’t move to reach it with my hands still pinned.

His breathing picks up. It doesn’t take him very long before he ends up coming all over my face.

After cleaning himself on my chest, Evan stands and tucks himself back into his jeans. “I had a good time. I’ll see you later.”

He takes the chair with him.

I search for the top half of the duster. By the time I find it, tears are running down my face. I grab the duster part I took off, clean myself off the best I can, then curl up in a ball.

My heart breaks. Cam’s dead, and it’s all my fault. I can’t do this anymore. I thought I could be stronger this time and handle anything Roger threw at me. I’m wrong, so wrong.

For hours, I sharpened that stick until my fingers bleed so I’d have a weapon, and I didn’t use it. Even if I can use it, I don’t have the strength to run.

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