Page 39 of Taste of Addiction

And just like that.

I am there.

I cry as James reaches over the center console to squeeze my left hand. His brown hair sneaks out from the confines of his hat like whispering feathers.

“Are we being followed?” I ask, turning around in the seat to look out the back window into the night.

James swallows hard and turns on the defrost to clear the fog from the windshield. “No.”

My legs sprout goose bumps. I chose the wrong outfit for the last day of November—clearly.

“Thank you for getting me,” I whimper, holding my ripped lace shirt in place with one hand.

He glances my way and gives me the most pitiful look. “Did he—”

“No, but he would have if you hadn’t shown up. He was so pissed off that I wouldn’t take the drink he made for me. I know he put something in it. And then he got super pissed off. He knew I knew. Said I was going to ruin his reputation by squealing. He broke down the bathroom door. And I just fought and fought, unable to see anything through the red of my anger. Then when the anger tamed and it was safe, I ran.”

“You should never be afraid to call me. Ever. And you always fight. You did the right thing, Ang.”

“I’m not so sure.” I look back behind us. “Look where it has gotten us.”

“None of this is your fault.”

I cry harder and shudder at the thought of him raping me. That was the plan. Why else would he want to slip something into my drink? I almost lost my virginity to a dude at a party and would have had no memory of it. I would have woken up with a headache and blood between my legs. I could have gotten a disease or gotten pregnant.

“Angie, don’t cry. The police are going to take care of this. We are only—” He halts his sentence as he glances in the rearview mirror. “Fuck!”

I spin around under the confines of my seatbelt and see the headlights. They are blinding. I squint as James speeds down the country road toward the center of town.

The lights behind us get closer. And closer.

James curses under his breath as the back of our bumper gets hit. The car skids to the gravel shoulder and starts to spin to the left. Smoke and dust clouds the night sky.

CRASH!

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP—

HISSSSSSSSSSSSS—

I shake off the glass from my hair and push at the airbags. I look over to see—

“James? James! JAMES!”

Blood gushes from his head, and I freak out over the sight of his broken body.

My fingers tremble as I realize I am not experiencing another nightmare, but rather a series of memories. Holy shit. Flashes of that night’s truth flood my thoughts. And for the first time since the accident, I have actual memories.

James was coming to rescue me.

Flash.

I was at a college party and about to get drugged.

Flash.

I locked myself inside the bathroom and when my predator broke the lock to get to me, I fought and fought and fought.

Flash.

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