Page 108 of Break The Ice

Is this how Ryann feels all the time?

I walk quicker, but it just makes the feeling all the more intense. All the hairs on my body stand on end, and I have to resist the urge to run to the car. I just know if I run, I’ll trigger an attack and be useless. I need to get home.

I focus on Callan and Ryann waiting for me at home and walk quicker. I’m still not running, but it’s close.

My mind plays tricks, telling me there are people behind cars, waiting in the shadows. I remember those days of being beaten up, of rounding a corner to find them waiting for me. That feeling of panic where you look left and right and realise there is no way to escape. I know better than anyone that your size and designation doesn’t guarantee you protection. I’ve seen those bullies try and almost succeed in taking down Raider. Only a teacher's timely intervention prevented what might very well have been fatal.

Sometimes, sheer numbers overwhelm even the best of intentions. Sometimes, you just have to take punches and pray you’ll survive.

I get to my car and pull out my keys, but I drop them. It’s such a small thing, but it takes me right back to that locker room.

Callan is screaming from inside one of the lockers. At least he’s safe. But I’m getting shoved up against the metal, wet towels thud into my back. A hand slides between my legs and squeezes my dick until I let out a high-pitched shriek.

NO! I escaped. I won. I grew up.

I grab the keys and unlock the car with shaking hands. I climb in and lock the door, sitting there for a minute, trying to calm my heart rate. My mouth is dry, and I feel sick and woozy. I rest my head on the steering wheel and put a hand against my heaving chest.

Fuck. I thought I was over those memories.

Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I feel so weak, so pathetic. I hate these episodes.

When I’m composed enough, I start the car and leave the car park. It’s not night, but it’s the time when most people have found their homes, so there’s no one on the road when I notice the car in the rear-view mirror following me.

There is a car following me.

I wasn’t wrong.

I inhale deeply, suddenly, my eyes getting so wide they ache, my whole body breaking out intingles.

I shake it off, but my eyes keep straying back, and as the car inches closer, I get that familiar sense of dread.

“Don’t have an attack. Don’t freak out. Don’t lose it,” I chant.

I speed up a little, but it keeps up with me. A black, ominous shape in the golden light at the end of the day. I’m too far from home and too far from the stadium.

Just be cool, be calm. Drive safely. Call Callan, and it will all be okay.

With a sweaty hand, I reach for my phone, but I knock it onto the passenger seat floor.

“FUCK!” My shout is loud enough to hurt my ears. I let out a sob and press the accelerator a little.

I glance back up, but I can’t see an actual person in the mirror. He’s just a dark shape in a black vehicle.

Is it him?

Is it Ryann’s stalker or is it someone else?

I depress the accelerator more, desperate to escape, but it only gives me a few seconds before he catches back up. This time, he sits so close up my ass I’m scared he’s going to hit me. And now we’re speeding. Where are the cops when I need them?

I indicate to turn and slow down. He falls back, and when I turn; he does, too.

Now I know for certain, there are no more doubts, no question. This guyisfollowing me. I can no longer deny it.

I swipe at the tears and try to come up with a plan, but my mind is empty except for the growing panic and memories I’ve been running from forever.

“Get it together, Kit. Ryann needs you!”

I swallow hard and put all my efforts into focusing on trying to lose him. I go down the side streets. On the main roads, I throw U-turns and lead him on a merry chase around the neighbourhood. I backtrack. I turn quickly, but he stays with me. Persistently.

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