A few sliding steps, bending forward to keep my balance.A few sliding steps, bending forward to keep my balance. A weight crashed on top of me, and I fell forward, landing knocking the air from me. Rough hands jerked me over with a whisper. Bitch. My hand flew out as I struck. Heart pounding, cold wetness creeping over my skin, my breath harsh in my throat, gasping. Pain cutting through my confusion. A silver line skimmed across my exposed throat. My hand had pulled down the black hood of the sweatshirt he wore. His face was set, eyes glittering with threats. His lips tightened, drawing down, then opened. "Move again or scream and I'll kill you." Too cliche. Impossible. This couldn't be happening to me! I was supposed to be in my room by now, reaching to turn on the soft light, tossing the letters on my desk, warm... Shock, anger, fear ran through me. Especially fear. Could I resist? The knife he held pressed closer. I felt a warm wetness trickle achingly slow down my neck, mixing with the chill of the mud caking in my hair. No. "Get up. Slowly." He got off me, carefully holding the blade on my throat. I stared at him as I rose, matching his gaze as I stood beside him. He was tall, bulky in a winter coat over his sweatshirt and jeans. |