Page 6 of The Pucking Wrong Man

And another tear slid down my cheek, because suddenly he didn’t sound nearly as drunk as he had before.

His palm caressed my face, and my head slid to the side, vomit launching out of my mouth because everything was too much. The pain, the nausea from the pain, everything.

He staggered away, leaving me writhing on the floor, flayed open and broken.

Eventually, I glanced down at my leg, my breath scattering as I saw that there was a bone popping out of my skin.

My head dropped back to the floor as blood seeped out around me.

It was so cold.

I didn’t want to die.

I wanted to live.

I wanted to dance…

CHAPTER 1

ANASTASIA

Iopened my eyes slowly, the harsh lights of the hospital room blinding me for a moment before my vision cleared.

Where was I?

The room swam, and I winced, quickly closing my eyes again and taking a deep breath.

My entire body hurt.

Okay, I could do this, I told myself, opening my eyes just a crack this time so I could get used to the light.

Finally able to open my eyes wide enough, my gaze immediately fell on my leg...which was encased in a giant cast from my ankle to my thigh.

What had happened?

It took a moment, but then it all came back, my own personal horror story playing out in a macabre technicolor in my head. My father lunging at me, the sharp crack in my leg, and pain like I’d never experienced before.

My chest tightened as I stared at the cast, my breath coming in shallow gasps as an icy hand seemed to clutch at my heart.

Was I ever going to be able to dance again?

The edges of my vision were darkening, a panic attack fully setting in. And then a hand landed gently on my arm, causing me to jump in surprise. I turned my head to see...Michael? He was standing next to the bed, his too-perfect smile immediately making bile clog my throat. What was he doing here?

The sight of him on top of everything else made me want to scream, but all I could manage was a strangled gasp.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm. “You’re going to be alright, Ana.”

I shook my head frantically, tears stinging my eyes as I tried to make sense of what was happening. Michael was the last person I wanted to see. What was going on?

“Why are you here?” I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

But Michael just smiled that same too many teeth—psychopath smile, his eyes shining with a glint that made me want to jump off the bed and run down the hallway as fast as I could...to anywhere but here. “You’ve been injured badly. I just wanted to be here for you,” he answered, his voice almost...mocking, like he knew something I didn’t. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

I still didn’t understand what was going on. How had I gotten to the hospital? Where was my dad? Why would Michael, of all people, be here?

He reached down as I watched...and pushed my foot to the side.

I screamed.

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