Chapter 2
Victoria
CRASH.
The sound of glass shattering jolts me awake. Tiny shards rain down onto my legs as I scramble to find the source. My eyes lock on the office windows by the door, and my stomach drops. A tall man is standing there, where the glass used to be.
I try to scream, fumbling with the taser, but I can’t figure out where the ON button is. I should’ve read the fucking instructions.
The masked man steps inside, heading straight for me as I panic, trying to get the damn thing to work.
Finally, I manage to flick it on. Sparks connect with his hand, and he groans, slapping my only weapon away.
It clatters across the marble floor, and the second his eyes follow it, I duck around him, jumping over my desk.
My bare feet hit the glass; shards slicing into my skin.
It burns like a bitch, but it’s better than being raped and murdered in my own office.
I sprint toward the elevator area, and suddenly an arm snakes around my waist, gripping me tight. His body is solid and definitely all muscle.
“Let me go, you fucking lunatic!” I scream, kicking and thrashing, but his grip only tightens.
I swing my head back blindly and it luckily connects. He drops me just long enough for me to push off and run again.
I run down the hallway, passing office after office, my eyes flicking left and right, trying to find somewhere to hide.
Then I see it. A small kitchenette to my right.
I don’t even think about it. I just turn and bolt into the room as fast as I can. My shoulder roughly clips the doorframe as I run in. I clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle any noise as I look around trying to find somewhere to hide.
My feet are on fire. I don’t even have to look to know there are still little pieces of glass embedded in them.
Oh, fuck. I hope I didn’t leave a blood trail.
The thought unsettles me enough that I immediately glance down at the floor, trying to see through the dark. I can’t really see anything. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe if I can’t see it, he can’t either.
God, I hope so.
I scan the room again, this time more desperate. There’s nowhere to actually hide in here, other than the small cabinets. There’s absolutely no way I’m fitting my ass into any of those.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath, already knowing he’s going to find me soon.
My gaze lands on the knife block sitting beside the sink.
This is quite literally the only way I’m going to make it out of here.
If I can’t hide, then I have to fight.
My hand closes around the handle, pulling one free. My grip tightens around it as I try to convince myself that I’m going to be okay.
He’s not invisible.
He’s not some untouchable, overpowered character out of an anime.
He’s a human being. Humans bleed.
The sound of his heavy footsteps is what has me glancing toward the doorway first. I quickly run over and squat down behind one of the tables.
I tighten my grip on the knife until my fingers ache, forcing myself to breathe through my nose as quiet as I can. My palm is damp now, most likely from the nervous sweats and I have to re-adjust to keep from dropping it.
Then the footsteps stop right outside of the door, but I can’t see him from here.
The silence that follows is unbearable. I’m scared that my heartbeat is loud enough that he can hear it. Unrealistic, I know. But it doesn’t stop the thought from going through my mind.
A slow scraping sound starts dragging along the wall outside.
My stomach drops. He knows. There’s no way he doesn’t fucking know I’m in here. He’s just taking his time, so that it scares the shit out of me.
He then appears suddenly. His muscular body filling the doorway completely as he turns his head left and right to scope out the room.
The mask covers his entire face, giving nothing away except a slight hint of his eyes. The mask looks like something straight out of a horror movie, its porcelain surface molded into a doll’s face.
The Boy. That’s the one.
But I know that his body towers over mine and he’s bulky like a personal trainer that works out on a daily basis. He’s got to be somewhere between six-five and six-seven.
I feel even smaller than I already am squatting here barefoot, bleeding, and clutching this knife like it’s going to actually save me.
I know he’s going to end up seeing me, so instead of cowering like a pussy, I stand up and raise the knife, pointing it toward him even though my hand won’t stop trembling. “Don’t come any closer.”
I definitely sounded like a wuss saying that out loud.
He pauses and watches me for a second, like he’s possibly acknowledging it.
Then his head tilts slightly, studying me in a way that creates goosebumps across my skin.
He starts walking toward me like I didn’t say a damn thing.
At this point, I’m pretty sure I’m about to die.
I keep stepping back until my back slams into the wall behind me.
That’s it. I’m dead. I’m so dead.
He’s got me cornered, and the only thing between us is a kitchen knife and whatever bits of courage I’ve managed to build up.
The second he gets within arms reach, I start slashing the knife wildly in front of me. I’m hoping I’ll either cut him or at least make him think twice about getting any closer.
Yeah, that doesn’t work.
He’s faster than me.
His hand shoots out and clamps around my wrist, his fingers locking down so tight the knife stops mid-swing.
I’m pretty sure my arm belongs to him now because when I try to pull away, it’s useless.
The guy doesn’t even move. He stands there like a brick wall while I struggle against his grip.
“Let go of me, you son of a bi-”
The word barely leaves my mouth before he moves his free hand toward my head.
I don’t even realize what it is at first as it slams into the side of my skull. The crack of metal against bone sounds sickening as it connects.
That was a fucking flashlight.
Pain explodes in my temples and the entire world spins violently.
My grip on the knife disappears instantly and my fingers seem to go numb. Not long after, the blade slips from my hand and clatters against the floor.
Ringing floods my ears as I tumble down to the floor.
I can feel a light stream of blood flow down my forehead as he kneels down in front of me. His voice breaks the silence as I feel myself begin to lose consciousness, “Sweet dreams, Victoria.”