Page 18 of Scream For Me
She turns around to grab her purse, and Nathan is there, his hand moving to her lower back.
Where the fuck did he come from?
“I’m just going to take Kat home, babe,” she says before giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“I can make sure she gets home okay,” Kirk chimes in from behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. His voice sounds strangely far away, even though he’s right there.
“No, I’ll take her,” Harper says firmly, glaring daggers at Kirk as she takes her purse from under Nathan’s arm.
“Honestly, it’s okay. I’ll be fine on my own,” I protest, surprised by how clear my voice comes out, despite the dizziness rolling around in my head right now.
Harper considers my argument and opens her mouth to speak, but Nathan cuts her off.
“Babe, come on, let her go. She’s fine, see?” He gestures towards me.
Harper looks at me and bites her lip, uncertainty flitting over her features before she takes both of my hands in hers. “Are you sure?” she asks, searching my eyes for the actual answer, no doubt.
“Yes,” I say with emphasis. “I’m going to go home, take a shower, and go to bed so I can be awake for work in the morning.”
She still searches my face, clearly in doubt about my decision—or my capability to make decisions.
“Go,” I say, shooing her away. “Go spend the night with Nathan. I’ll be fine.”
She pulls me into a hug and whispers straight into my ear. “Any problems, and you call either 911 or me. I’ll call you first thing in the morning, and if you don’t answer, I’ll be at your door. I’ll kick it down if I have to.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” I tease as I kiss her on the cheek and break the hug.
She looks at me one last time with a narrowed gaze as Kirk guides me towards the exit.
As we walk out the door, the chilly fall air engulfs me. The warm buzz, now a fuzzy inferno, makes my movements even more clumsy. Dizziness swims around in my head, and I struggleto focus on the ground below me. I stumble once. Twice. Before Kirk’s arm wraps around my waist, holding me up.
“I’m sorry, I should have known the last drink would be too much.” I laugh nervously, unsure whether the words even make sense.
“It’s okay,” he affirms, his tone softer than I expect from a stranger I found in a bar. “Let me make sure you get home.”
He hails a cab and bundles us inside. I tell the cab driver my address. My words slur into each other, but they must make sense because we start to move.
Kirk’s hand comes to rest on my thigh again, tracing small circles as his other arm pulls me close. I move to push him off, but my arms feel too heavy, like they’re stuck under sand. My head lolls and slumps against the window with a soft thud. I watch the rain fall against the window, the city lights rushing past us. I fight the rising nausea.
My brain feels like driving through thick fog. I’m only slightly aware of Kirk’s hand leaving my thigh and lifting my chin. His lips meet mine, tongue invading my mouth. My body is too limp to reciprocate, but he continues. His tongue roams over mine, teeth clashing. It’s sloppy; it’s robotic. A part of me somewhere is screaming, but it’s too far away to hear. His hand holds the back of my neck, keeping my head upright. This is wrong. Everything is wrong. But we’ll be turning onto my block soon, and I can kick him to the street.
As we arrive at my apartment, my legs wobble, barely able to hold my weight up, and Kirk helps me out of the cab. I fish around my purse for my keys, my hands roaming around my bag searching for the fluffy purple keychain. My arms feel like Jell-O, I can barely grip the keys in my hand, and they go clattering to the floor. Kirk is immediately beneath me, picking them up, hisother hand never leaving my waist. He turns the key in the lock and guides me through the threshold.
The apartment is dark, which only makes the unsteadiness rise, and I’m suddenly unsure which way is up right now. I drop my purse on the entryway table like I always do.
“T-thanks for bringing m-me home,” I slur as I walk towards the couch, but he’s probably already gone.
I’m vaguely aware of the sound of the front door closing. The soft click rings out through the dark, silent apartment. I swing my head back to the door, the movement making the wooziness return. Kirk stands with his back against the closed door, his eyes dark.
“W-what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer me. He closes the gap between us impossibly fast. My pulse should be hammering in my ears but all that’s there is painful silence as he grips me under my arms and pulls me close. I don’t have time to say anything before his mouth is against mine again without warning. My brain struggles to catch up. I’m screaming, but there’s no sound in the room, save for Kirk’s heavy breathing.
I try desperately to lift my arms to push him away, claw at him, hit him—anything to get him off me. But my limbs don’t cooperate, they just hang uselessly and heavily at my sides like they’ve turned to iron.
What the fuck did he do to me?
He slides his hands up from my waist, knuckles grazing the side of my breasts. I barely register the touch. Everything feels muted. I cry out as he pinches my nipple. A jolt of unwanted electricity shoots through me, invading the deepest parts of me.
