Page 167 of Heart So Hollow

Suddenly, Bowen pulls his face away from my neck, “The fuck you say, baby girl?”

“I said your name,” I exhale, dragging out the words.

“Say it again,” he commands, circling my clit faster, “just like that.”

“Bo…” my core pulses and I start grinding against his hand, “faster, Bo…”

Suddenly, he rips his hand out of my shorts and stands up, leaving me a wound-up mess on the floor. I whip my head around in time to see Bowen flip open his Buck knife with a click, making me freeze in terror. He moves fast, in jerky, rapid movements as he crouches next to me and pulls the straps taught, eliciting a gasp from me as they cut into my wrists. With a violent tug, he slices through the nylon and they snap, letting the blood rush back into my hands.

Bowen tosses the loose straps to the side and steps in front of me, “Run,” he booms as he fumbles with his jeans button.

“What?” I breathe, flexing my fingers and wrists.

“I said get your ass up and fucking run!” Bowen shouts, ripping his gun from its holster and emptying the clip into the woods.

My brain short-circuits and I let out a shrill scream, flinching at each bullet that leaves the barrel. Blind with terror, I scramble across the bed of the truck to the tailgate where I don’t even bother putting my feet first before tumbling off onto the dirt. Adrenaline propels me forward, my knees and feet scraping over leaves and twigs as I tear down the path back toward the house in a panic.

Ironically, fear blinds me to the darkness, so much that I can’t even feel the rocks and debris gouging the soles of my feet. I don’t know how long I run, but suddenly the path narrows and it doesn’t look like a vehicle could fit between the trees. I thought I was running in a straight line, but now I don’t know where the hell I am. Everything looks the same in every direction—dark and dense.

I stop and listen, every inch of my body quaking. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen or what I should do. Bowen just shouted at me like a psycho and emptied his gun into the woods. And when I look down, I realize I’m naked from the waist up, only wearing my pajama shorts.

Why would he do that? Why would he do that when he knows…

Fucking asshole.

I start moving again, slower, but still with a sense of urgency. I need to get back to the house, or at the very least out of these woods. I don’t want to be out here anymore—with coyotes or werewolves. Sputtering curses as I try to catch my breath, I spy a break in the trees ahead where the moonlight is showing through. I can’t veer off-track if I don’t even know where I am, so I continue toward it.

When I make it to the clearing, I scuttle toward the middle where there’s more light. Gazing around, it doesn’t look like it breaks off into any clear paths. The only distinguishing element is a brush-laden treefall on the other end directly in front of me. I let out a frustrated huff, my eyes darting around while I decide what to do next.

Suddenly, something sharp hits my shoulder with a sickening pop, throwing me forward. Before I can even take a breath, there’s another sharp pop on my hip, and yet another at the top of my ass. Each one knocks the breath out of me and I pitch forward, stumbling to the ground with a thud.

Then comes the pain—a burning sensation radiating from each impact site. Half screaming, half hyperventilating, I reach back to grab my hip. And when I feel my skin, it’s wet.

He shot me.

Bowen fucking shot me.

My body starts convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as the screams erupt from my throat. My hand shakes, my fingers slick with the thick liquid as I grope over my shoulder and hip. The wounds hurt like hell, but I can still move.

Before I can even try to stand up, a tall figure steps through the trees into the clearing. It’s Bowen, still shirtless, and his shoulders are shaking as he swaggers toward me. When I finally stop screaming to take a breath, I hear his faint chortle beneath my gasps.

He’s laughing.

I’m bleeding out and Bowen’s laughing!

He comes to a halt, inches from my bare feet, soles black and ankles speckled with dirt and streaks of blood. The shadows split his face in half, shrouding his eyes and lighting up his mouth stretched into a wide grin.

“If you want to hide, stay out of the light.”

“What?” I cough, staring up at him in horror.

Bowen lifts his arm, and with it, the silhouette of a gun I don’t recognize, “It’s only paint, darling.”

I’m frozen with shock, my heart still racing and the splotches on my skin stinging in spite of the adrenaline overload.

He tosses the black paintball gun onto the ground and crouches down, sliding his hand over my foot, “Like I said, your self-awareness is for shit.”

Bowen grabs my ankle and jerks me down, knocking my elbows out from under me. Dead leaves crunch and scrape against my bare back as he drags me toward him. He glances at my shoulder and then sweeps his finger across the welt that’s forming. When he holds it up in front of me, the neon orange is unmistakable.

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