Page 11 of Monstrous

She glances at the clock as if to say it’s way too early—we did just get back from lunch—but must see the way my hands twitch because she nods. “Sure. Balance your drawer and lock it up. I’ll be fine here without you,” Krista says. “And Becca is coming in any second. You go.”

The moment I’m physically able to get out the door, I run, needing a moment to myself. A half a second. If that’s what I can steal then I plan on it, hoping the bank manager doesn’t write me up. Judging by the scowl on her face as she sees me through the glass window of her office…I’m toeing the line yet again.

She was pretty decent when I had my breakdown, but after seven years she’s not so lenient these days.

Outside, I draw fresh air into my lungs, holding it there like I can somehow get some answers. Except there are none, and I can’t place the creepy guy beyond a general low-levelwrongness.

The beginnings of a panic attack tickle my nervous system, my lungs pumping and heart muscles seizing. This isn’t good. My head threatens to spiral clear up to the clouds and I have to place a hand on the building just to keep myself from falling over.

“I can do this,” I mutter under my breath. “I can do this. It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m normal.”

Except any hint of my earlier confidence has absolutely left the building.

Then a hand falls on my shoulder and tugs me backward, grabbing me and pressing me tightly against a warm and stiff body. The scream I’ve been holding inside breaks free immediately.

“Let go of me!” I howl, struggling against an unbreakable grip.

A dark chuckle greets me instead. And no matter how hard I try to get free, I can’t move.

ChapterFour

Panic races through me, turning my blood to ice. The man refuses to let go of me.

And I’m pretty sure it’s amanbecause those muscles are rock hard, unbudging. His hand shifts to cover my mouth to keep me from screaming again as he drags me back into the shade of the building.

He shushes me like I’m supposed to feel calmed instead of absolutely terrified.

What does he want?

I try to reach back and kick him, or at the very least step on his foot to get him to release me. He tightens his hold again to keep my arms pressed to my sides, to the point where I’m having trouble breathing.

On the outside I’m quiet and frozen, but on the inside I’m screeching. Wondering if anyone is going to see and come help me.

Save me!

Horror has me freezing instead of fighting back and even as a small voice inside my head tells me to move, to kick, to punch, I do nothing. Shame joins the terror. Why can’t I move? What’s wrong with me?

If I don’t help myself, I’m going to die. I know it.

Adrenaline courses through me as my mind flashes right back to the night with Walker and the way I’d gone still then, too. Unable to do anything and unable to help him as his screams slowly turned to dying gurgles and the man I loved became a shell. A husk.

Is that going to happen now?

It’s a bit extreme, but after living through the impossible…it suddenly becomes possible. Especially when a cloud passes over the sun like a dark omen.

My attacker keeps backing up, dragging me further away from the door and closer to the parking lot. This side of the building is all brick with no windows. And the street is on the other side so no one will notice unless they pull around toward the lot.

“Shhh. It will all be over soon.”

His voice clatters through me like the deep tolling of a doomsday bell. Even then, I do nothing. My arms and legs might as well belong to someone else for all the control I have over them. I’m begging my legs to dig into the pavement, knees to lock—somethingto keep him from taking me so easily.

Nope, nothing. My fingers are limp and trembling.

I don’t want it to be over soon, not when I haven’t gotten the chance to really live.

Someone help me. Please.

The edges of my vision go black.

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