Page 20 of When Darkness Calls

I stiffened when his nose trailed down my jaw and inhaled deeply at my neck. Saliva pooled in my mouth. Nausea settling deep in my stomach, a lump forming in my throat. The acidic taste of bile lying flat against my tongue. Tears pooled on the corners of my eyes, but I fought to keep them from falling. This monster…a real monster…will never see me falter. Never see my fear. It only spurs them on. My jaw clenched and I jutted my chin against his hand in defiance. I wouldn’t stop fighting. No matter what happens, I won’t stop fighting.

A venomous grin pulled at his lips; the tightening felt along my collarbone. He fought to wedge his knee between my closed thighs, winning only once he kicked my ankle to the right at the same time as the hand at my waist moved to push my knee to the left. My glare burned into his face. I prayed I would miraculously gain superpowers, and my stare would blind him, burn his face like Superman’s laser eyes.

He lifted his gaze, eyes hard, full of desire, and triumph.

“I have waited so long for this,” he leered. He spoke low, a rumble more than a whisper, rough in a way that seemed forced, unnatural in his throat. His mouth latched onto the top of my breast through my hoodie. His teeth gripped at the thin skin. His angle had shifted his hand enough that my painful cry sounded louder than any of the others before. I cried, growled, screamed, pushed, squirmed, kicked, but the position he had me in garnered no leverage for anything to make an impact. My energy was beginning to wane. His hand loosened on my mouth only to grip my wrist and wrenched it behind my back to grasp in the hand on the opposite side. The position left me pushing my chest forward, and leaving him with an empty hand, but also, left my mouth free.

I sucked in a large breath and screamed as loud as my body would allow. The man only chuckled because at the moment my voice had peaked, the sky lit with fireworks. The sizzled screech harmonized with my own.

“Oh, please. Don’t stop on my account. The feisty ones are so much more fun. You leave so many more pieces when I finally break you.” My eyes widened as his mouth crashed into mine, his tongue pushing past my teeth, scraping on each incisor. His smell was nothing like his taste. Like everything wrong in the world. Vile, tinged in metallic blood, thick mixed with bile. I gagged, retching, but he never stopped. Neither did his hand, bruising, forcing its way under my hoodie, tearing through my leggings, groping me over my underwear. As the tips of his fingers brushed the waist band, fury glazed my vision.

Perhaps the red I seen was from my anger, the breaking point of feminine rage turning deadly, fatal, a glimpse at the near future with a limp body lying at my feet, or it was from the blood pouring from his mouth down my chin from the gash my teeth ripped into the tip of his tongue.

He ripped away from me cursing loudly. Instantly my feet carried me as far away as fast as possible further down the back alley. I had to be near the south parking lot by now. The security guard said it was a few aisles down. If I get there, I can lock myself in the bathroom and call the police and Liz.

Fuck. Liz.

She had probably been looking for me this entire time. The alley curved. I looked over my shoulder to see the man spitting and turning my way. A promise in his eyes of something far worse than any death. As I ran around the side, he was lost from my view, but I collided hard into something warm. Air was forced from my lungs as we stumbled. Hands gripped my upper arms. Arms covered in a deep colored jacket.

Thank God. It’s a security guard.

But it wasn’t.

Peering down at me through endless pits of darkness, a white mask reflected stray rays of red and purple from the neon lights filtering through the aisle entrance.

It was him.

six

Grayson

Early Saturday...

This was my favorite part. The waiting.

I had spent the better part of the day, camera in hand, taking shots of anyone he crossed paths with, staying just out of sight.

It’s an adrenaline rush, honestly. Having a high possibility of being caught, and that thought alone has my blood rushing.

I don’t know what excites me more, not being seen, and seeing everything, or knowing it’s only a matter of time before I am seen, and it’s up to them to choose fight or flight.

Me? I like the fight way more. The whole chasing thing is Alex’s thing. I like the thrill of anticipating the pain, their actions. Seeing their reaction when it’s my turn.

They don’t suspect the amount of bloodthirsty energy thrumming inside me. But once I see red, it’s hard to stop, not even when my knuckles are split, and blood is spraying across my face and up my arms. My vision is tunneled, and I can only think of the release it brings.

This fucking scumbag though, I kind of hope he sees me. He doesn’t seem like the type to run. And I know he’s okay with getting a little dirty if the photos Alex showed us of his kids covered in bruises are anything to go by.

Jerry.

Fucking Jerry.

I scoff at even the thought of his name. This dude has been pedaling his way through East End with the purpose of getting the high school kids hooked so he can move them on to his work buddies after they graduate. Fucker uses his job to get close to them.

It’s hard to tell how long he has been doing it, but we only got his name after the last “chat” we had with one of his little buddies.

I think the kid was Dani’s age, maybe younger. He spilled like broken glass not even five seconds after we grabbed him. Told us that he had been working from the inside for Jerry.

Jerry, though, poor, oblivious Jerry, hadn’t been keeping his movements very quiet. We would have moved on him earlier, but this asshole apparently doesn’t keep things routine.