Chapter 10
Victoria
My leg is on fire. Every step sends a sharp, brutal pulse straight through me. It’s a reminder of what he did to me.
Like I could ever forget.
My movement is a fucked up mix between limping and running. I’m basically just dragging myself forward.
I worry if I slow down for even a second, he’ll be right there again.
Right behind me. Treating me like prey.
I force myself toward the staircase door, vision beginning to blur at the edges.
Maybe it’s unlocked now.
Maybe I’ll get lucky.
But knowing me?
Probably not.
The burn in my leg flares hot and vicious, ripping a cry out of me as I round the corner toward the elevators.
My feet are no better. The tiny glass shards from before are still embedded in the bottom of both of them.
Come on. You’re almost there.
I keep pushing, forcing one step in front of the other, dragging my leg like dead weight behind me.
The door is right there. It’s so fucking close.
Maybe this time it’ll open.
Will this finally be over?
Hope hits me hard enough that it almost knocks me off balance.
The hallway starts to warp, bending in on itself. My vision tunnels, edges going dark and fuzzy, and a violent wave of nausea crashes through me. I swallow it down, but it doesn’t help.
Nothing helps.
I realize I won’t be able to escape anyway.
My keycard. I don’t have my fucking keycard.
I stagger forward into the door. Maybe I can force it. I didn’t try that hard last time to get out of the building. I pretty much just gave up, choosing to stay the night here until someone showed up.
I constantly throw myself into the door with as much force as I can until my body decides to give out on me.
It doesn’t even budge. Not once.
My hands brace against the metal as my weight collapses into it. My head drops forward, forehead almost touching the surface as I fight to stay upright.
“I can’t..” My voice barely scrapes through the dryness in my throat. “I can’t see…”
The floor feels like it’s shifting under me as if an earthquake is happening. I dry heave as my head bobs from side to side, unable to hold it still.
What the fuck did he put in that syringe?
“Someone.. help me. Please.”
My legs start to give out on me, slow but inevitable, like they’re just done fighting. And the pain.. it finally seems to catch up, crashing into me all at once.
I press all my weight into the door, trying to force myself upright, trying to stand; but my legs tremble beneath me even more.
They’re giving out.
I can feel it.
I’m losing myself. I’m going to pass out.
And then the door suddenly gives.
It opens without warning, and my balance is gone with it. I lurch forward, my body following through before I can stop it with no time to catch myself.
I topple directly into someone.
Strong arms catch me, and for a split second, relief floods through me. I clutch at them without thinking, fingers gripping around the fabric of their clothes like it’s the only thing steadying me.
I pull in a deep, shaky breath.
“Oh my God,” I breathe out. “I need help. There’s someone here, he’s fucking crazy, and I-” My voice cracks. “He killed my boyfriend.”
My fingers tighten in his shirt, clutching onto him like he’s the only thing that can save me. My whole body feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, adrenaline barely holding me together.
For a second, he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
“Sir, you have to help me.”
I force my eyes up to him, trying to focus through the blur. I know it’s a him; the feel of his arms under my grip tells me that much. The solid muscle and the coarse hair along his forearms is a dead giveaway.
My breathing stutters as another face stares back at me.
But it’s not a face. Not really. It’s shaped like one, sure; but there’s no movement.
No life or expression.
Nothing human.
It’s another mask. It’s the same white shade, but it’s different from the other one.
This one feels closer to a real face, though. It actually frames his features, clinging to the shape underneath it, like it was specifically made for him.
It’s not like the porcelain one. This one looks thicker and less smooth. There’s texture to it, as if it were formed by hand instead of manufactured.
It resembles clay.
My stomach bottoms out so fast it makes me dizzy all over again.
No.
No, no, no-
My hands hit his chest hard, panic ripping through me. I try to pull away, to get out of his grip, but my body won’t cooperate. It doesn’t help that he’s tightened his hold on me.
“Get the fuck away from me!”
The second the words leave my mouth, his hand moves.
His fingers wrap around my throat, cutting off my breath. My hands fly up instantly, clawing at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as I try to tear him off.
It doesn’t do a damn thing.
My feet lift off of the ground like I weigh nothing.
A broken, choking sound forcing its way out of me as my body jerks in his hold. My injured leg hangs uselessly, pain flaring and then fading into the background as something much worse takes over.
I can’t breathe.
The room spins violently, my vision slipping in and out, darkness beginning to take over. I kick weakly, twisting in his grip, trying to get any kind of leverage; but I can’t.
I have none.
He moves towards me in a fast motion, slamming my back into a metal surface that I can only assume are the elevator doors. The force rattles through my entire body. My head snaps back slightly from the impact, stars bursting across my vision.
I choke on nothing, mouth opening and closing as I try to pull in a breath that won’t come. My chest is burning in agony instantly, every muscle in my body locking up as I claw harder at his hand.
My fingers continue to scrape against his skin desperately.
It doesn’t matter.
He doesn’t budge.
If anything, he holds me there more firmly.
My ears start to ring, a high-pitched sound drowning everything else out, even the sound of my own choking breaths.
And through all of it.. he’s absolutely calm.
Completely fucking calm.
He leans in slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like I’m not seconds away from blacking out in his hand. I can feel the heat of him, the closeness, the way he cages me in without even trying.
This masked-man watches me like he’s deciding something. Like he’s measuring how much I deserve to live. Or how hard I’ll fight to survive.
Those piercing-blue eyes stay on me. But there’s nothing there.
No emotion.
They’re empty.
Hollow.
The mask caves in around his eyes making him look even more dead inside, similar to what a skeleton looks like.
Maybe that’s what I should call him.. Hollow..
My eyelids fight to stay open, but the lack of oxygen forces that strength away. My fingers begin to lose strength, grip loosening no matter how hard I fight it. My body starts to go slack, betraying me completely as the lack of air pulls me into an abyss.
And then he leans in, closing the space between us until I can feel the steady thrum of his chest against mine.
“Night-night, puppet.”
My hands fall away from him.
My body gives out.
And the last thing I can feel is him still holding me there, not letting up in the slightest.