I should be screaming bloody murder (or at least for him to stop), but he’s made sure to bury my voice. Unlike last time, however, it’s not with his hand. No, it’s much worse.
It’s with his mouth.
Trent’s lips crash against mine, and since my lips are already parted in preparation to scream, he takes advantage and plunges his tongue inside.
Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, and several people holler, but I can’t focus on that.
I go to bite down on his tongue as hard as I can, but he must anticipate the move. Trent pulls back just fast enough that I only manage to nip the very tip of his tongue. He rewards the action by twisting my pinned wrist at such an angle that I swear it may very well break. Of course, it’s on my right side, a.k.a. facing the part of the hallway where no one happens to be at the moment. Everybody’s at the entrance to my left, and bystanders must be drawing a very different conclusion by what they’re seeing, because their hollering only grows louder.
I try screaming again, but to no avail. Though his tongue may not be inside my mouth, Trent keeps his lips pressed to mine, even as my knees buckle from the pain radiating up my arm. Bile rises in my throat, and I pray to God that Iwillvomit, because it’s the only thing guaranteed to get Trent off of me.
“Seems somebody gets around,” announces Sienna Hawthorne.
Trent smirks, finally pulling away to look over at the brunette and the rest of her clique now filling the entrance to the den. I take advantage of the momentary distraction, barely managing to thrust up my knee into Trent’s groin. My mobility is still severely limited, so the attempt is pathetic at best, but the mere threat to his junk is enough for Trent to recoil. Using the technique Reed taught me, I thrust the heel of my hand right up at his nose.
As expected, the impact causes his eyes to tear up, and I don’t dare to look behind me as I run. My legs tremble so hard that they threaten to give out, but I manage to scramble down the stairs and into the kitchen. Only once I find myself in a sea of people that don’t consist solely of Sienna’s minion do I bother to turn around. Thankfully, nobody’s following after me, but it’s not registering with my body. My legs want to keep running as I simultaneously dry heave. Grabbing the closest bottle of vodka off the counter, I flee into the backyard and push through all the drunken dancers until I finally reach the set of bushes lining the back of the property.
Pouring as much vodka into my mouth as I can, I swish and gargle the liquor around the inside of my mouth again and again and again, trying to let its high alcohol content burn away the violation of it all.
It doesn’t work.
I spit out the vodka, my whole body shuddering from the adrenaline still coursing throughmy veins. Every inch of my skin crawls with such revulsion that even if I exfoliated the top two full layers off, it still wouldn’t remove the defilement.
Another melody suddenly clashes with the blaring music, and I jump at the sound. It’s my cell! Yanking it out of my pocket, I see Maggie’s calling me.
“Hey, where are you?” I have to yell over the commotion.
A plethora of giggling fills my ear, but no one says anything.
“Maggie?”
The music playing on the other end sounds much louder than where I am, so I assume she’s inside or close to the speakers by the back patio.
“Maggie!”
Without a word, the call cuts out.
Fuck! I take off towards the house, having to push my way once again through the crowds surrounding the undergroundpool. There are so many people gyrating and jumping and fraternizing that I can’t see around or over anyone. All I want is to find Mags and get the hell out of here, but I can’t bring myself to head back in the house. Not when I see Sienna enter the kitchen as soon as I step up to the glass patio door.
An old tree fort rests just off to the side of the pool area, and it’s set high enough up that I’d be able to survey the whole yard. I skulk across the lawn and scramble up the rickety ladder, climbing into the tiny wooden cabin. Plenty of girls with curly hair fill the crowds, but none of them have Maggie’s distinct shade of pink.
Closing the wooden door behind me, I’m relieved to find it blocks out the noise of the party better than expected. The first two times I redial Maggie’s number, the calls continue to ring until eventually going to voicemail, but the third time proves to be the charm. Clamor blares again from the other end of the call, forcing me once again to shout if she can hear me.
Random chatter resonates in the background, but none of it sounds like her.
“Maggie! You there?”
“Sorry, she can’t come to the phone,”a smooth, masculine voice says instead, and the sound of it again nearly has my phone slipping from my hand as my blood turns cold.
No.
No, no, no, no!
“Want to leave a message? Or perhaps you could do one better and join us. Maggie here looks like she could use a friend right about now.”
“What the fuck did you do to her, Trent?”
A low, baleful laugh rings in the air.“Why don’t you come find out?”
