Page 76 of Loving Bad
The street Matthew took to the theater was quiet and I stared out of the window as we drove in silence.
Suddenly, I heard the slight scrape of metal against metal. The car swung and the force of the movement pressed me painfully against my seatbelt that dug across my chest and waist.
"Fuck!" Matthew swore as he began to frantically fight with the direction of the car by pulling hard on the steering wheel in the opposite direction. I remember my brother telling me that advanced driving courses were a necessity for any bodyguard, but when I looked and saw the panic in Matthew's face and I knew we were in trouble.
I held on to the seatbelt as the force swung us across the road. The road had been quiet; otherwise, we would have hit another car. Everything seemed to slow down as I watched helplessly while the car lost control. Matthew's eyes met mine as he reached out with one hand and tried to hold my body back. Even in a moment like this, protecting me was built into his instinct.
There was no time to brace for impact when a large tree on the opposite side of the road stopped the car with such force that I felt the imprint of the seatbelt bruise me and knock the breath out of me. The crunch of the metal and the sound of breaking glass echoed in my ears. My head flung backward as it came to an abrupt stop.
"Ow," I moaned as I touched my chest. It hurt to breathe. I couldn't help thinking that maybe I was injured worse than I thought. Adrenaline began to pump through my veins as I released the seatbelt.
My neck hurt and I rubbed it with my hand, trying to ease the pain. It took me a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened.
Had we hit something? Or had someone hit us?
Matthew.
I looked to Matthew. He had a gash on his forehead and there was blood dripping from it.
The sight of blood always reminded me of the scene of my murdered parents, but there wasn't time to panic. The darkness wanted to comfort me and began to creep through me, but I fought it. Matthew was hurt. He could die if I didn't try to do something.
"Matthew," I croaked, trying to wake him up, but he wouldn't respond. Fear gripped me and I began to panic.
This can't be happening, I thought as I pressed my shaky fingers to the side of his neck, praying that he was still alive. I cried out with relief when I felt a faint pulse beneath my fingertips. He was alive.
I heard footsteps on the gravel. It had to be the person who had hit us. Pain shot through me as I turned to try and open the door.
For a moment I felt a wave of dizziness and closed my eyes, trying to let it pass over me. I felt a small prick of pain in my upper arm and my eyes flew open. Alarmed, I glanced to see a guy standing beside the car. A guy I knew.
I rubbed the spot on my arm that hurt.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, feeling more confused. It didn't help that my mind began to feel fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate. The numbness spread through my body and it became harder to keep myself awake.
"Need to...get help...Matthew," I tried to say urgently, but it came out slow and slurred.
My eyes grew heavy and it was impossible to stay awake. My eyes closed and I dropped into the darkness.
My mouth was dry and it was hard to swallow. I ran the tip of my tongue across my bottom lip as I moved slightly. A fog had settled in my mind and it was hard to link my thoughts together.
Groaning, I shifted slightly and felt the pain in my stomach and chest. When I opened my eyes, I took in my surroundings. My last moments before I blacked out came rushing back and confusion set in.
I was lying on a small bed in a basement. It was dark except for a dim, single bulb that hung from the ceiling. I winced as I sat up, holding my aching middle. As I tried to figure out what happened, I rubbed my forehead. There was a dull throb that hadn't quite developed into a headache yet.
I remembered the accident and Matthew being injured. Matthew. He'd gashed his head and he'd been knocked unconscious. The pain in my middle pulled my attention away from my thoughts and I lifted my shirt. Bruises were developing already.
My eyes scanned the damp basement. My mind refused to acknowledge the reality of what I was seeing, but then I remembered the guy who had come to the car and I remembered the slight pinprick. Why would he do that? Most people would have called an ambulance. Why wasn't I in a hospital?
I heard the door creak open at the top of the stairs when I finally understood what had happened. My breath hitched in my lungs as I watched a pair of dark boots descend the stairs one loud creaking step at a time.
Oh. My. God.
I watched in horror as my kidnapper came into view.
"Eric," I gasped as I put my hand to my mouth.
