“But he didn’t actually… he didn’t…”I think I’m going to spew.“I’m not hurt.”
“You have stitches in your ribs and a slice along your neck. Your expensive as fuck heels were all scraped up, and he put the fear of death into your eyes. I have no regrets.”
Stumbling back from this… thiskiller, with a hand over my mouth to stop the surge of vomit that wants to erupt, I check my purse one last time to make sure my files are secure.
I slept inhisbed last night.
I allowed him to slide needles through my skin.
He had his fingers inside my body.
And he’s a murderer!
“Don’t follow me.” Turning on my heels, I bolt out the door.Please God, don’t let him follow me.