Page 130 of Break The Ice

My eyes are stretched so wide, and I can’t seem to blink.

He reaches for me again. For a second time, I recoil, this time in pure panic. I slap his hand away.

The world goes still as he stands up, looking down his nose at me.

I have a small freak out, flushing hot and cold, and when he reaches for me again, I lash out. I hit him over and over.

Freddie’s rage grows, leaking all over us, wrapping us in a blanket of isolation. The lights from the carpark hit his face at just an angle to make him look like he’s got a skull with black pits for eyes and no face.

He is my death.

He’s going to kill me.

I don’t want to die. Callan and Raider will blame themselves forever.

Ryann needs me. Her stalker is probably here. She honestly needs me like no one ever has, and I want to be there for her.

I don’t want to die like this.

There’s only one thing I can do. I open my mouth and let out a scream so loud it makes my ears ache, and at the same time, in terror, I open the bonds. I flood them with my horror, with my fear, my panic. In the space of a second, something comes back at me. There is a ball of warmth inside me. It’s indistinct, but it’s there. Ryann, waiting for me.

I feel Callan and, distantly, Raider, but it’s Ryann’s warmth that I grab hold of and cling to. She might not even understand what she’s feeling or doing, but Ryann is keeping the fear at bay.

I’m not thirteen years old. I’m not a child anymore, and I’m not a pushover.

I surge up, and when he reaches for me; I hit his hand away from me!

“Don’t touch me!” I snarl and spit at him.

Freddie hisses and lunges for me. “You little shit!”

I hit him four times in a row, quicker than he can block. He stumbles back, blinking hard, but I’m up and already advancing, kicking him hard on the side of the knee.

He goes down hard, shouting and cursing.

This is amazing. I might actually survive this. I’ve never felt so powerful or so free. Oh, I can feel years of trauma falling away.

“You are still the same pre-programmed robot you’ve always been, Freddie, but, here’s the thing, I’m not the same person I was. I’m changed, grown, and I know how to defend myself.”

He glares up at me. “Why did you send me the letters?”

I frown, my gut clenching. “What letters?”

“The fucking letters, you freak!”

I shake my head. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

Freddie pulls out a letter and throws it at me.

I pick it up and glance at him, I could almost feel sorry for him, almost. He is pitiful, and it’s clear he’s living in poverty and doesn’t eat enough. He may even have a habit or two. Sadly, nothing has changed his personality.

I open the letter and read through the drivel. It’s a very poorly written letter taunting Freddie and signed by me.

“I didn’t write this.”

Freddie surges up and tackles me, driving us both to the ground. I lose my breath and struggle, but I can’t get free.

“Don’t do this, Freddie. I didn’t send the letters. You’re being set up.”

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