Page 6 of Ruin My Life
“Don’t touch her!” I snarl, the words tearing out of me like shrapnel. “Take whatever you want—just let us go.”
He tilts his head and crouches in front of me, his eyes locking onto mine through the mask.
I don’t blink. I won’t look away.
“Iamtaking what I want,” he whispers.
Then he turns back to Amie and slams her face into the floor.
“No!” I lunge toward him, my knees dragging across the carpet—but the stock of his gun smashes into my jaw before I make it a foot.
Pain detonates in my head. My vision goes white, then pulses black.
I fall onto my back with a gasp, blood filling my mouth from a split on the inside of my cheek, my limbs numb with shock.
“Feisty,” the stockier one mutters, almost amused as he crouches over me.
He wraps a gloved hand around my throat, pinning me to the carpet. His other hand yanks my shorts and underwear down to my ankles in one quick, violent motion.
I thrash, every muscle in my legs straining to kick him off me. My heel connects—once with his stomach, again with his chest—and for a second, air rushes back into my lungs as he releases my throat.
A tiny, hollow victory.
Then he slams my knees into my chest, his weight crashing down against my thighs. Something cracks—loud and sharp—and the pain that follows steals the breath right out of me.
Ribs. Definitely broken.
I turn my head toward Amie. The lean one has her pinned, pressing a hand into her back as he kneels behind her. She’s frozen. Her eyes—wide and filled with terror—lock on mine.
I try to hold her gaze, to silently promise it’ll be okay, even if the doubt is screaming louder in my head than any words ever could.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes as the stockier one forces himself into me. The pain tears through me like fire—searing, violating.
I clench my jaw, trying to block it out. To float above it. To focus on Amie. On her attacker.
I etch his details into my memory.
Pale skin. Buzzed blonde hair. Icy blue eyes. A bird tattoo—its wings stretched across his collarbones, rising from his sternum like it’s ready to fly.
I will remember him. Every grotesque inch.
He won’t get away with this.
He won’t live another day.
He. Will.Pay.
The lean one grunts, satisfied, as he finishes inside her.
Two minutes. Two minutestoo long.
And then—he raises his gun.
My body goes rigid.
“No!” I try to scream, but with broken ribs and a crushed chest, the word barely escapes as a breath, a whisper.
Her eyes find mine—panic, confusion, heartbreak—and then—
