Pivot (The Jack Harper Trilogy Book 1)
Page 29
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Finally, around five in the morning, I left. It was pitch black outside, and nearly everybody had already gone home. There were a few lingering cars, but not many.
I decided I would walk from Patrick's to my dorm, that perhaps the cool air and bit of exercise would help me sleep by the time I arrived. I pulled my jacket tighter around me and shivered.
As I walked, I thought of Patrick and his question. "Have you ever done what I do?" he had asked. I had not, and I willingly told him. Twenty-two years old. Geez. It bothered me. But I could not tell if it bothered me because I had told him, or because it was true.
I rubbed my numbing face in the dark, and I pulled out my pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Soon, I was walking through yet another parking lot for a different set of apartments. I brought the cigarette to my mouth and flicked on the lighter, felt the warm flame come alive. Breathed easy. A fucking virgin... and not out of some declaration of abstinence, but because of something far darker. It was so...
Something brushed against my face, and then there was a sharp pain in my throat. My head jerked back so quickly I thought my neck would break. I fell down and backwards. I hit against something hard. I tried to scream, but my throat was too tight.
I grabbed at my neck with my hands. My fingernails scraped against thin wire. This is it! I thought.
And then there was something in my mouth. It cut into the ends of my lips like a burning saw and then I could feel it winding around my head. My hands were jerked down and pinned behind me. I opened my eyes.
There were three figures in the dark, and then nothing. My head was shoved into a bag, and then I was pushed. I didn't fall onto concrete, but something slightly softer. My legs were pushed towards me, and then I heard a thud, and I knew. I was in the trunk of a car.
The tires did not screech, but soon we were moving quickly. I thought of Cyrus. I knew it was him. It had to be him.
No! It wasn't him, but the others. They had come for me - four years later - but they had come. I screamed.
Not a soul was there to hear me.