Chapter 19 Indie
Indie
Age Twenty-One
Every single fibre of my skin tingles.
I don’t feel in control of my limbs, and my tongue feels heavy.
Fuck, why is my mouth so dry?
The room is spinning, and I’m starting to feel sick.
I’m falling backwards, and my already speeding heart drops, like I’ve fallen from the height of a roof.
I hit against a soft surface, but the impact makes everything feel worse.
My ears are ringing from the loud music, but it’s quieter in here.
“Just relax,” someone says.
A man.
I try to recognise the voice. Then Conrad’s face flashes above me, but it blurs as quickly as it came into focus.
My eyes feel so heavy, I struggle to force them open.
Panic creeps up, but I can’t control my body.
I’m lifting my arms, but they’re not going where I need them.
The room is moving in waves, like I’m under water.
“No,” I slur, the word dragging out of my mouth, but it sounds more like a groan.
I can’t even swallow properly.
When I manage to open my eyes, everything is disorientated. Someone’s in front of me, but I can’t get their face to focus; it keeps moving.
“Be quiet,” he barks, and my heart thunders.
I can feel hands shoving my dress up.
No.
No.
No.
“Get off me,” I try to shout, but my voice comes out at different tempos, the words all rolling into one.
“Stop moving, bitch,” he snaps, and I force everything inside me to try and kick, to scratch. It’s no use. Something heavy is lying on top of me; it’s so hard to breathe.
Tears fill the corners of my eyes, and sobs burst free.
Saint’s name gets lodged in my throat.
I try to call out for him, until I suck in a jagged breath when I feel it.
The violation.
My body tenses. I’m completely frozen.
This isn’t Saint.
Vomit threatens its way up my throat.
“No. Stop, please, stop,” I whisper, but it’s no use.
I can’t move my arms; it’s like they’re glued to the ground.
Something clamps across my mouth. Fear and darkness ink through the edges of my tears as my eyes no longer want to open.
I can feel my heart crack into something irreparable.
My soul bleeding out black.
Conrad’s there one minute—gone the next, the weight of what’s happening to me immediately being removed.
There’s shouting, something snapping, glass shattering.
Screaming.
I’m not sure if it’s me, or if it’s someone else.
I want to scream too, but I can’t.
I can’t move.
“Saint, we need to fucking go!” someone roars. I think it’s Jenna.
Or it could be Regina.
I’m scooped up. The motion is so fast, I turn and finally vomit.
The entire room blurs into one. I retch so hard I almost choke through the tears.
My body is jittered. Hands grip me tightly as lights flash violently over my eyes, but I’m struggling to keep them open. They’re getting too heavy.
Cold air rushes over me, and I think we’re in a car now.
The panic is soaring through me, and I try to move, try to fight.
“Fucking drive, Rex.”
That’s Saint.
I’d know his voice anywhere.
A sob groggily rips through me, and I’m clutched so tightly, I can smell him. His familiar scent.
I want it to calm me; it always calms me.
I want him to help me.
Please help me.
His breathing is harsh. I can feel it against the wetness of my cheeks.
“I’ve got you, darling. They’ll fucking pay for this. Every single fucking one of them.”