Last I recall, it was in my jeans pocket.
Except… my jeans are in the library.
Along with my bra, panties, and what’s left of my dignity.
I’m trying to see clearly through the thick fog clouding my thoughts when the floorboards creak a few feet down the hall.
He’s almost here.
Dia, do something!
I can’t move, the fear paralyzing me from head to toe. By the time I snap out of it, gearing myself into fight mode, my window of opportunity is already gone. The oxygen leaves my body when Finn’s bedroom door squeaks open…
And an oddly familiar guy appears in the doorway.
I’m petrified, unable to move or speak, but my memory is all I need to place the strange man standing before me. It’s the guy Finn was talking to the night of Lacey’s party.
The guy who told Finn he’d rape me in the woods before almost getting choked to death.
It’s not his face that gives it away—it was dark that night, and I didn’t get a good look at him—it’s his shabby, over-worn black jacket. He’s not wearing a stalker baseball cap this time, but he is wearing the same vomit-inducing odor. He’s standing in the doorway, but I smell him from here.
I’m clutching the blanket to my chest so tightly I can barely feel my knuckles anymore. As for him? The only thing he seems to be feeling right now is satisfaction.
His lips twitch into a crooked smile as he looks me up and down, delighted by his discovery. The slight tremble of his body and dark circles under his eyes do little to hide his demons. My best guess? He’s a drug dealer slash drug addict, and he’s desperate for his next fix. That sure would explain why he’s been bugging Finn for his money.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” The creep, who can’t be much older than twenty-nine but looks forty due to substance abuse, lets out a wheezy laugh and ventures deeper into the room.
A feeling of helplessness crushes every bone in my body when he closes the door and locks it. It’s the way he looks at me. Like I’m some poor, defenseless animal who wandered into his trap.
“House sitter turned dick sucker.” He cackles. “It’s quite the résumé you’ve got there, sweetheart.”
His comment makes my skin crawl, and I direct my energy into hiding my distress from him.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” He glances to the undraped window on his left as if to make sure Finn’s car isn’t pulling up. If he really knew Finn, he’d know he isn’t the dating type, but I decide to use his ignorance to my advantage.
“He’s on his way. He went out to get us breakfast. He should be home any second,” I lie.
“Is that so?” he mutters, his devious smile growing in size.
He’s not buying it one bit.
Was he just testing me?
No, he clearly didn’t know Finn was gone or he wouldn’t have called his name earlier. That’s when I realize I did this to myself. I’m to blame for his skepticism.
Why?
Because I’m crying.
Tears are streaming down my face uncontrollably, but I’m so crippled by fear that I didn’t even notice. No wonder he doesn’t believe me. If Finn really was on his way home, a few minutes away from bursting through the door and rescuing me, I wouldn’t look scared for my life.
“Heard your boy had a big day yesterday.” The man starts to pace around the room, analyzing the things on Finn’s desk, then picking up the framed picture of his mom for a closer look. “Such a shame about that dog—Lexie, was it?”
The words are barely out of his mouth before he intentionally drops the picture on the floor, not even flinching when it explodes into a thousand little fragments.
That picture has to be the only thing Finn didn’t smash when he went into a blind rage yesterday. The rest of his room looks like a category four hurricane went through it.
“For what it’s worth, she didn’t have much time left, anyway. She looked like shit,” the guy adds, and I go from terrified to fuming with anger.