My pulse thrashes through my veins. I try to clamp my mouth shut and not scream again, but the angle of my head doesn't allow it.
"Let's not be overdramatic, Denielle." The tension on my strands eases the slightest bit.
The voice is too loud. Too close to my ear. Too chipper.
Why does the voice sound so familiar?
I attempt to twist my head, but I get wrenched back and whimper.
I try once more to peel my lids back, but it's like they're glued shut. My lashes stick to each other. "C-an't s-ee," I choke on the words.
"Oh, I know." Something scratchy swipes at my cheek, no doubt leaving marks on my skin. I try to draw away, butThe Voicestill has my hair in her hold. "The blood from your head wound ran all over your face. It's quite gross. I had to have them cut off your clothes to make sure there were no other wounds."
Them?
The relief of apparently not being injured anywhere else is doused by The Voice’s next words. "I can't have you die of injuries I didn't cause." A giggle follows the declaration, and I freeze. My heart rate resembles the speed of a hummingbird's wings.
What?
All the pain is pushed into the background, and I tear on the restraints anew. I need to get out of here.
"Stop that! I just cleaned the floor from your last tantrum."
I can't, though. My body has taken over of its own accord. I want out. Scream. For King, Jenn, anyone. Where are my friends? My rapid inhales are chased by even faster exhales, yet no air reaches its target. Can you see black spots in front of a curtain of blindness? The answer is yes. The dark fuzzies simply turn white as my starved lungs demand relief.
The Voice yanks my hair back, and my head follows the motion. A crack echoes in the room, and I sob.
"I. Said. Stop." My head gets thrown in the opposite direction, and it slumps forward. Tears run down my face, cleaning the blood obscuring my vision.
My glued lashes peel apart, and light hits my retinas for the first time since I lost sight of Marcus in my memory. It's too bright, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It takes me several tries before I can tolerate the glare. We're in a warehouse-style room. The overhead lights reflect against the white walls and polished concrete. There is nothing in here besides me and… I turn in the direction of the voice.
My eyes are still sensitive to the commercial lights, and I focus on the ground. Shoes are the first thing that comes into view—black wedge pumps strapped to the ankle of slender, tan legs. I follow the legs to the hem of a black, skintight dress. Raising my eyes further, feminine curves are emphasized by a wide Gucci belt. Despite my brain fog, the designer labels register. Following the lines of the cream seam in the center of the material, I finally reach the face of the speaker.
My eyes widen, and my heart comes to a halt before it takes off, racing a mile a minute. "Em?" my voice cracks, and another wave of coughing racks spasms of pain through me.
How is this—? Why would she—?
Em waves me off with a Tinkerbell laugh. "I know, this must be a surprise. We'll do full introductions soon. We have to wait for King to wake up first."
King? I can't breathe. My chest feels like someone put a hundred-pound weight on it.
"Whe—?"Where is my friend?
"Over there, silly." She dips her head to my left, her glossy curls bouncing with the motion. "You should assess your surroundings in a hostile situation."
Hostile situation?What the hell is this? She uses terms like a soldier yet talks like this is a cocktail party. My skin suddenly feels too hot. It doesn't make sense. I'm freezing. They took my clothes. Nothing is as it should be. I should be with Marcus, celebrating my birthday with my friends. My gaze flicks to her shoes. Why am I looking at her shoes? I force my attention back to Em's face. Her cheery tone doesn't match…anything. Her lips are pursed as if she is waiting for something.Oh.I carefully turn my head in the directionmy clientindicated, the throbbing in my head preventing me from moving as fast as I want.
Next to me, a little set back, King is strapped to a similar chair. Her head is slumped forward, her eyes closed. The only difference is that she is still fully dressed. The only thing missing is her jacket.
Having read my mind, Em explains, "King sat on the other side of the car during the impact. She didn't have any visible injuries."
Impact. Injuries. I taste the words on my tongue, let them settle. Suddenly, the missing pieces appear like camera flashes in front of my mind's eye.
The Club was justa few blocks away. We drove Rhys's BMW.
King sat behind Jenn. I was in the passenger seat.
We halted at a stop sign, Jenn and King bickering over the music. Jenn took her foot off the brake, and we rolled into the intersection where…headlights shot at us from the right.