Page 214 of Heart So Hollow

So, I do. I learn how to focus, how to pay attention, how to research, how to think critically, how to be patient, how to listen, and then craft a plan. Then, after I graduate with a 4.5 GPA, I learn how to search, find, survive, and even kill if I have to. And, even after that, I learn patience, focus, and how to take out my target at a distance.

I do exactly what they told me to. I become a better stalker.

And I have one purpose—to find Brett Ashley Sorensen and destroy Bowen Garrison.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Brett

One Year Ago

I know that voice, but it shouldn’t be here in this room. I want it to be here, bursting through the doorway to save me. But, instead, it’s coming from the demonic shadow hovering over my body about to slice me to pieces.

He releases my hair, letting me drop onto the mattress, and smoothly steps off the bed onto the carpet. I roll over and push myself up to a crouching position, shaking as I watch him take a few steps back. He reaches behind his shoulders and grabs the back of his sweatshirt by the fists, pulling it up and over his head. Then he balls it up and chucks it into the corner, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath.

“He’s not protecting you now, is he?” he scoffs in the darkness.

The sound of his voice is like a knife through my heart. I scramble to the other night stand and switch on the lamp, nearly knocking it onto the floor like the other one.

Bowen stands in the middle of the room, glaring at me as he rakes his hair back from his eyes, sweat glistening on his brow. All I can do is stare at him in horror from behind the bed, my mouth agape and chin trembling as my body tries to figure out how to function again.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he coos with pure malice in his eyes, “Honeybee.”

“What?” my voice shakes as I try to draw a breath, “You?”

The adrenaline and shock are too much and I rush to the bathroom, throwing open the door and pitching forward onto the sink. I grope for the light switch and then the faucet handle as I heave the contents of my stomach into the drain. When there’s nothing left, I spit mouthfuls of tap water and haphazardly rinse my face with one hand. Then I turn around, sinking to the floor with my back against the cupboard doors.

Still gasping and sniffling, I look down at my shirt. The left side of my tank top is ripped along my chest, exposing my pink and purple sports bra. Pink splotches gave way to scratches and welts along my chest and neck. I flinch when I glance up again and see Bowen leaning against the door frame.

“I thought you were into that kind of thing,” he tugs the hand towel off the ring and tosses it into my lap, “or is it just with him?”

I try to speak, but it just comes out as a wheeze. Bowen looks over at the vanity, the empty lavender pill packet sitting on the edge of the sink next to the faucet.

He flicks the edge with his fingertip, sending it clattering into the sink, “You better hope to God that baby’s mine,” he growls with abject disdain.

“What?” I squeak out with an airy whimper.

Bowen glances down at the sink again, lingering on the empty packet, then turns his attention back to me with the blackest eyes.

The devil’s eyes.

I can’t look at him, my body still shaking and too terrified to move. After a few moments, he taps my bare foot with the toe of his boot. I shrink back on reflex, but when I look up, he’s reaching down, extending his hand to me. Not knowing what else to do, I take it and let him help me to my feet.

But as soon as I’m upright, he grabs the front of my shirt and slams me up against the wall, pinning me against it with his forearm. I let out a scream and go rigid, flattening my arms against the wall and turning away, squinting my eyes shut. I can’t see, but I can feel him lean closer, the warmth of his skin radiating against mine.

“You’re a fucking glutton for punishment, aren’t you, Brett?” His breath feels hot against my cheek. He doesn’t even sound like himself. “I should’ve strung you up a tree and left you in those woods. You think you can lie to me, you goddamn whore?” He presses against my shoulders so hard that they feel like they’re going to snap, “You want me to show you what happens to liars in my house?” He slams his other palm against the wall next to my head, making me cry out in terror.

“Let go,” I choke out through tears, “let me go!”

“Let you go?” Bowen pushes his face into mine, “Where the fuck are you going to go?” he snarls.

I cringe, pleading with him, “Bowen, what are you talking—”

He jerks my shirt, pulling me forward and slamming me back against the wall again, knocking the wind out of me, “You think you can hide things from me?” he towers over me, “I know where you go, I know who you talk to, I know what you do when you don’t think anyone is paying attention. You’re mine and I own you.”

Writhing beneath him, I try to push against his arm, but it’s nothing but a vice grip.

What’s he talking about? What does he mean he knows everything I do?

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