Page 455 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

What I need is someplace to lay low until the next bus arrives, or someone driving past I can hitch a ride from. I’d never have considered hitching a ride in the last town I lived in, but I doubt Cinderhart has a bunch of serial killers roaming the street.

I slip my backpack’s straps back onto my shoulders and, after a brief pause, head for the ablution block on the other side of the parking lot. It’s a small building, and there aren’t any locks on the doors so it seems pointless to try and hide inside, but at least I’ll be out of sight from anyone coming up the road from the lake.

Just in case those carsdobelong to the CA boys, and just in case they decide to come up here, I don’t want them to see me.

But as I slip around the concrete wall of the public restroom, two guys come walking across the road toward me. At first I don’t think they’re part of the group that I met down at the lake…until I recognize the one with the rolled-up sleeves.

Even in my drunken state, I realize that the fact that they’ve split up, that two of them walkedpastthe bus stop, crossed the road, and then doubled back means I’m inhugeshit.

I spin around, heading for the entrance of the restroom, hoping I can somehow barricade myself inside one of the stalls.

But instead I walk into the guy who’d been coming up behind me.

“There you are,” he says. It’s the same guy who spoke to me down by the lake. Dark hair, light green eyes. His smile is downright sinister. “We were worried about you.”

I turn to sprint away, but he catches hold of my backpack and drags me back. I struggle out of the straps as he growls and grabs hold of my hoody, but I manage to tear away from him before he can get a proper grip.

Then I’m running.

I narrowly avoid one of the pair up ahead snatching me when he appears out of nowhere from around the restroom’s wall. I struggle desperately to keep my feet on the slope heading toward the lake as I skid down it to escape. But I’m too drunk, too scared, too fuckinguseless. I trip, breathless screams ripped from me as I tumble down the embankment.

When I hit the bottom, I roll onto my side, spitting out grass and choking on the dust puffing up from the dirt road.

I don’t feel pain. That will only come once the booze has worn off. But I feel heavy and clumsy when I try to push myself up.

Someone grabs my hoody and hauls me off the ground. Two guys appear in front of me, then a third. They’re all wearing those same evil smiles.

“Why do you keep running away?” a guy with light-brown hair asks. Two, maybe three years older than me. He runs a hand through his hair and shares a meaningful look with his friends. “I think we should tie her down.”

“For her own good,” one of them pipes up.

“Don’t want her hurting herself,” says another.

“It’s obvious she’s had too much to drink.”

“We’d be doing her a favor.”

“We’d be doing thecommunitya favor.”

They reason it out between them in lightning-fast quips while the guy behind me throws an arm around my throat. I don’t even manage a scream before he starts choking me out. I scratch and claw at his arm, but I can’t hurt him through his blazer.

Darkness bleeds into the edge of my vision as one of the guys slides a slim backpack off his shoulder. He drops it to the floor and rummages inside. I’m not in the least surprised when he brings out a neatly looped rope.

When he comes closer, I use the grip around my throat as leverage so I can aim a few kicks at fucking groin. He lets out a low chuckle. “Easy there, tiger. We’re helping you, remember?”

“Fuck off!” I manage, but the words are too strained to have an impact.

The guy holding me leans close. “You’re being a real ungrateful little bitch.” He applies more pressure, and suddenly I can barely lift my legs. The guy with the rope comes closer.

No, please. This can’t be happening. I swear I’ll never drink again. I swear I’ll?—

I feel myself start to drift. To let go. It’s easier than fighting. Easier than trying to stop this.

Isn’t it always?

A black Impala comes out of nowhere and slams into the two guys furthest from me.

“The fuck?” the guy holding me yells.

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