Page 111 of Vile Boys

I’m cornered.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I tell them. “Please, just let me be.”

One of them laughs. “I don’t think so. You insulted us.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I say.

When I try to move past them, one of them shoves me back into the middle of the group.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Let me through,” I say through gritted teeth, my hand diving into my pocket.

He raises his brow. “Or else?”

I pull out my knife and point it at them, and they begin to laugh.

Fine. If they won’t take me seriously, then I’ll make them.

I attack him, running my knife through his hand.

“ARGH!” he screams.

I pull it out and try to bolt.

“Grab her!” the wounded one shouts.

Another guy grabs my waist and pulls me down to the ground.

“Get off me!” I shriek, and I slice around to get him to back off, cutting into his arm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits, trying to steal the knife from my hand.

“No, no, no!” I scream, holding on to it for dear life. “That’s my father’s knife!”

“She fucking cut me!” the guy I hurt yells. “How about we teach her a fucking lesson for that, boys?”

“Oh, now we’re talking,” another guy says, and he steps over to me and grips my hair, pulling my head back so tightly I shriek.

“I can’t fucking wait to play with you.”

A car comes veering down the road, tires screeching left and right, headlights blinding me.

“What the f—”

I shut my eyes as it’s headed straight toward us.

“Watch out!”

SCREECH!

A loud thump makes me hold my breath.

Yelps are all around me.

My eyes flash open, but the blinding lights stop me from seeing anything except the damaged metal and leg sticking out from underneath the wheel.

Oh God.

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