Epilogue
Katherine
Crash - DeathbyRomy
The pain hits me in fragments. Every part of my body hurts. A low vibration hums through my bones. I sway from side to side, my stomach lurching in protest. Bile rises, hot and sour, and I clamp my teeth together, trying not to empty the contents of my stomach.
My head feels stuffed with cotton, heavy and fuzzy.
I swallow the dryness of my throat, and a sharp metallic tang coats my tongue.
Every breath is a struggle, every heartbeat a drum in my ears that makes it hard to focus on anything.
Panic forms somewhere in the distance, a shadow moving closer with each second. Everything feels delayed and muted.
I open my eyes, blinking away the wetness there.
My eyelids feel too heavy; it takes most of my strength just to open them.
Light leaks through them, and the world comes into focus.
Blurry at first, before slowly sharpening.
Shapes snap into place, and dark panels of metal surround me.
My eyes narrow on a window above my head.
I’m lying on my side. The floor tilts under me again in tiny, nauseating shifts, sending my stomach into a spin as my head pounds.
Okay, Kat. Breathe. You’re moving.
I watch streetlights whizz past through the window, so fast I can’t see the lights themselves, only the white trail they leave behind. The sound of an engine revving breaks my focus.
I’m in a fucking van.
My pulse stutters, finally kicking to life. I try to move my hands, but nothing happens. They’re numb, useless, and locked in place. I look down and see they’re bound in front of me with black plastic zip ties.
No…
Panic freezes my veins as I struggle, my wrists scraping against the sharp plastic. I try to slam my legs against the floor in frustration, but I barely move. I don’t have the fucking energy. My chest rises and falls too quickly, and I feel the hot burn of tears behind my eyes.
I look forward, and the driver’s seat comes into focus. Broad shoulders. A calm, familiar posture. One hand relaxed on the steering wheel like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
I know those shoulders. I know that hand.
A streetlight illuminates Nathan’s face as my brain short-circuits. Relief floods my body first: a fleeting, stupid warmth that makes my heart ache with hope. It quickly settles into something low and dark.
His eyes flick briefly to me, not meeting mine for long, but long enough for my stomach to lurch. His jaw tightens. That small, calculated motion cements my fears.
He’s not here to rescue me.
I try to move, my hands straining against the zip ties.
My fingers twitch, and my wrists scrape.
Warmth trickles down my hand where I’ve pulled too hard.
I swallow down the rising nausea. My throat is dry and raw, and my chest aches with the effort of drawing in air.
My whole body shakes with adrenaline, pain, and fear.
My gaze slides past Nathan to the passenger seat.
Time slows.
My entire world narrows to the single shape sitting in the black fabric seat.
Pale hair with a sharp jaw that I know too well.
It’s a profile that I’ve memorized and carried with me every fucking day for the past fifteen months.
He turns his head slightly, just enough for me to see his mouth curl upwards into a sickening smile.
A smile that’s haunted me for the past fourteen months.
Owen.
“No…” I whisper, the word barely sounding real as it escapes from my raw throat.
Everything collapses inward as fear splinters into sharp pieces, slicing every nerve in my body. He turns fully then, looking straight at me. Any lingering haziness vanishes in an instant. Fear slams into me with the force of a wrecking ball, and my breathing stops.
“Hello, princess. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
TO BE CONTINUED…