Chapter 31 Something Bad #3
His fingers dig into his chest, and he throws his head back just as the streetlights blow.
Glass showers down on us in sharp little sparks, like the universe thought we needed special effects.
I flinch, raising an arm to shield my face, and the moment I lower it, the world is black. Darkness swallows the street whole.
He collapses to his knees and his body convulses.
What. The. Fuck.
My chest rises and falls in frantic, shallow gasps. My ribs ache, my arm throbs, but my mind is moving too fast to care. But it's my hands that freak me out. They burn.
I stagger back a step as he chokes out something I can’t understand before his body slumps onto the pavement, unmoving.
I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.
I just stare at him.
What just happened?
The street is unnervingly silent except for the rain hammering the pavement and the distant growl of thunder rolling through the hills. My chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths, and the ache in my body is an afterthought compared to what just happened. I need to get out of here.
I turn and see headlights slice through the storm, flooding the street with artificial light.
Relief surges through me as I whip my head around toward the approaching car ready to flag them down, but they turn going in a different direction.
When I look back, the man is gone.
I blink hard, but my heart lurches into my throat. I scan the shadows, searching for the silhouette that had been right there, but there’s nothing. Just the empty street. The storm swallows the space where he should be. You’ve got to be kidding me.
A shaky breath escapes me, but my pulse is still pounding against my ribs. How is he just gone?
Every hair on my body stands on end, and my senses are screaming at me to move, but my legs won’t cooperate.
I exhale sharply, forcing my muscles to unfreeze, to function.
I need to get out of here. I stagger forward, and my heels slip against the wet pavement as I push into the downpour.
Every drop of rain feels like needles on my skin and every breath feels like a knife to the ribs.
My arm throbs and the blood mixes with the rain as it drips down my fingers, but the physical pain barely registers over the chaos still wreaking havoc through my mind.
I keep moving, one foot in front of the other. My heartbeat still hasn’t settled, but I bet if I took off my boots this nice evening stroll wouldn’t be so bad.
The night is still too quiet. I can feel something watching me, and I wonder if it's that same guy.
I shake the thought loose, focusing on the sound of my own footsteps and the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. I’m almost there. Just a few more blocks, and I can collapse into bed and pretend none of this ever happened.
I don't notice it at first, but then I hear the low rumble of an engine coming up behind me. I tense, glancing over my shoulder just as headlights cut through the street. My stomach knots and I can feel the dread crawling up my spine as the car slows beside me.
Can’t a girl catch a break?
I brace myself, curling my hands into fists, until the window rolls down. “Miss Taylor! You forg—” The driver’s words die in his throat as he squints, looking at me. “Are you all right?”
I blink, trying to pull my scattered thoughts together, but I can’t. I don’t even know what I look like right now, but thank God all the lights broke, so he can’t really see me.
He’s holding my phone, but I keep my arms folded tightly across my chest, hiding the cut and, honestly, my nerves. A few minutes ago, I was ready to beg for help. But right now I just need to get home as quickly as possible without anyone causing a scene.
“I’m okay,” I manage, taking the phone from his outstretched hand, trying to avoid his gaze.
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Are you sure?” His eyes flick to my trembling hands. “You look—”
“I said I’m fine.” The words lash out before I can reel them back in. His brows shoot up, and I blow out a breath, forcing a calmer tone. “Sorry, I just… it’s been a long night.”
He hesitates, clearly torn, then sighs. “Lass, I know you said you wanted to walk, but it's coming down proper now. Won’t you let me take you the last bit? Please?”
For once, I listen to reason. This might actually be the smartest thing I've done all day.
“Sure,” I murmur, sliding into the back seat. The heat coming from the vents wrap around me, grounding me just enough to steady my heartbeat. The hum of the engine settles in my bones, but my hands won’t stop shaking.
When I lift one to wipe my nose, I freeze.
The sight of blood smudged across my fingers sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me. Great. A bloody nose to go with my bloody arm.
I angle my body away, hoping the dim light and the driver’s focus on the road will keep him from noticing.
The minutes stretch on, the drive feeling impossibly slow. I try to replay the fight, trying to understand what the hell just happened, but the moment I reach for the memory of him screaming and the lights shattering, my thoughts skitter away, a black void swallowing them whole.
We pull up to the house and the soft glow of the porch light flickers through the rain.
I don’t wait for him to say anything else. The moment the car slows to a stop, I push the door open and step into the downpour, barely acknowledging his murmured “Stay safe” before shutting the door behind me. “Thank you.”
I force my feet to move, making my way toward the house.
All I can hear is my heels against the wet gravel path.
My dress clings to me, heavy and cold, while every drop of rain only adds to the exhaustion dragging at my limbs.
My arm aches, my head pounds, but none of it compares to the pain in my side right now.
And then there’s the sickening feeling still coiling in my gut.
So when I see movement out of the corner of my eye, I freeze.
It moves again and I huff out a laugh at myself. It’s just a dog. Relief flutters through me, but it doesn’t last. Every instinct I have is screaming that everything is a threat. I just need to go inside. Then I can lay down.
Normally, I’d be the first to crouch down, to make some ridiculous noise, and try to coax it over. But after tonight? I’m not taking any chances, and if I don’t get inside soon, Rachel will find me out here on the driveway in the morning.
I walk faster, even though every inhale and every step sends shooting pain through my body. And when I look back, the dog is gone.
Nothing moves in the trees, but that feeling doesn’t leave. It clings to me like an invisible weight pressing against my spine. My fingers tremble as I wrap them around the doorknob, twisting it with more force than necessary.
The second I’m inside, I shut the door behind me, leaning back against it as if that thin barrier could keep all the chaos out.
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to steady my pulse. But as I press my hand to my chest, only one thought settles deep in my bones.
Someone is looking for me.
I push off the door, my legs feeling unsteady as I make my way down the dark hallway. Every step feels heavier and the weight of the night presses in with each passing second. Only a few more steps.
I reach my room and shut the door behind me, my body moving on auto pilot as I lock it, but it’s not enough to make me feel safe. Nothing feels safe anymore. But I don’t want Rachel waking up and coming in here asking questions.
I let out a sharp breath and press my back against the door, then slide to the floor. My arms wrap around my knees, holding myself together even as the tremors rack through me. Everything hurts.
My dress clings to my skin, torn in some places.
My arm throbs with every pulse of my heartbeat, and my insides feel like they’re on fire.
I don’t think the cut is too deep, but it hurts like hell.
Blood has already soaked into the fabric, and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the pain is creeping in, sharp and insistent.
Exhaustion hits me full force. The fight, the chase, the way he disappeared. The lights. The screaming.
A violent shudder runs through me.
I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand what’s happening, period.
I should be dead. That guy should’ve killed me. My mind replays the way he writhed in agony, the way the streetlights shattered, and the way his screams rang through the night like something had torn him apart from the inside.
The nausea returns, twisting my stomach into knots.
What the hell is happening to me?
I clutch my necklace, hoping for some kind of comfort, but it offers nothing.
The ache in my chest builds and before I can stop it, the tears come.
Not the quiet tears. A full, body-wracking, ugly kind.
The kind that makes you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams. Which, right now, hurts like a bitch.
I press my hand against my face, trying to muffle the sobs, but they just keep coming, spilling over faster than I can control.
Pull yourself together. The words sound like something my grandfather would say.
A memory surfaces, and I can hear his voice. Patient, but unyielding.
“A fight isn’t just about strength, Raven. It’s about control. A warrior with no control is already dead.”
I exhale shakily, gripping onto the words like a lifeline. Control.
I force myself to move, and I push to my feet. My body feels too heavy, and my limbs protest, but I make my way to the bathroom, peeling off my dress, leaving a trail of my night behind me on the floor.
The moment I step into the shower, the steam surrounds me. The water is hot enough to scald my skin, and it stings as I step under the spray. But I don’t care. I watch the blood swirl down the drain as the pink tendrils twist through the water, and then vanish. Gone. As if none of it happened.
I wish my thoughts would go with it.
I press my forehead against the cool tile, letting the water run over me, washing away the sweat, the rain, the blood. The fear.
By the time I step out, I feel a little more like myself. Not fine, but functional. I grab a towel wrapping it around me as I rummage through the first aid kit under the sink.
I clean the cut with shaky hands, sucking in a sharp breath when the antiseptic burns like hell.
I get the bandage wrapped snugly around my arm, covering the wound.
It's a temporary fix, but it'll work. There’s nothing I can do about my ribs.
The bruise already looks black and purple, and it takes up half my side. I just can't let Rachel see it.
I wipe the fog from the mirror as my own reflection stares back at me. My eyes are still red-rimmed with dark circles beneath them and I look like shit.
I let out a breath, forcing my shoulders to square. I’ll deal with this tomorrow. Right now, I just need to sleep.
I drag myself to bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a heavy sigh. The wind howls outside and I can still hear the storm still raging, but I focus on the steady rhythm of my breathing as I cry myself to sleep.