Page 57 of Dare To Fall

Me: Is she still there?

Kellan: Yep, sitting at a table nearby with a drink.

Me: So they’re expecting me to respond now.

Kellan: I’d say so. They sent a text telling her to pin it up in here, then take a seat and wait for you.

I relock the door and turn away, the counselor’s words running through my head.

Me: Fuck them. I’m going for a run.

If they want a response, they’ll get one. But this time it’ll be on my terms and when I’m fucking ready.

Chapter 36

Arabella

The fog swirls around my feet, and I can barely see the gravestones in the sea of blackness. Zoey is standing by the crypt, dressed in a beautiful white dress. Her tears glisten on her pale cheeks, and she beckons with one hand for me to join her.

I jerk awake, my heart pounding and my mind empty of everything other than fear from the nightmare. The room is pitch-black. A heavy weight is on my back, pinning me down. Exploding into panic, I open my mouth to scream, only to have something shoved in my mouth. No matter how much I shake my head, I can’t dislodge the gag. Rough hands grab my arms, forcing them behind my back.

Wriggling and kicking my legs on the mattress, I can’t get free. Something encircles my wrists—rope? It’s tied tight, biting into my skin. My screams are muffled as I try to buck my attacker off.

And then the weight on my back disappears.

My ankles are grabbed and secured, more rope binding them together. My legs are forced up behind me. I fight to lower them, but I can’t, and it takes me a second to realize the rope around my ankles is bound to the one around my wrists.

Chest rising and falling with fear, I try and concentrate, listening for anything that might give a hint to who my attacker is. And then it dawns on me … something is over my eyes.

A blindfold?

Eli.

Is it Eli?

Is this his retaliation for the drawing I pinned on the cafeteria board on Saturday?

I sat there for three hours waiting for him to react, but he didn’t show up. Now, on Monday evening, he’s finally retaliating?

I stop fighting and wait for him to speak. He always speaks.

But the minutes tick by, and the silence stretches.

Is he getting off at seeing me so helpless?

Fingertips brush my bare thigh.

I tense.

All I’m wearing is a baggy t-shirt and a pair of panties.

The bed dips beside me. I twist my head in the same direction and listen hard, but Eli doesn’t speak.

Is he trying to scare me? Is this one of his games?

A finger glides down my cheek and stops just above the strip of material gagging my mouth. The warm touch vanishes and is replaced by something cold, flat, and hard.

What is that? A knife?

---