“You had no way of knowing it was me.”
“I know,” I reply, “but the thought of ever hurting you…”
“You won’t hurt me,” Cole says as he wraps my hands in bandages.
I wish I could feel as confident as he sounds, but sometimes, I fear myself and the lengths I’ll go to protect him. Sometimes, I worry he’ll get caught in the crossfire. And someday, the people we care about will find out about us. Someday, we’ll tear our families apart.
In the end, I will hurt him. It’s inevitable.
Cold air sawsthrough my battered lungs, and twigs break underfoot. I weave through spindly trees, pumping my legs harder, pushing my body to the limit to get away from the masked man. Excitement quickens my breath as I glance behind me. He’s gaining on me, and my body flushes hot. I want him to catch me, but I also want to draw out the chase. This unhinged side of Cole makes me so damn hard. It’s as if someone unchained his dark, starving side and let it lose in the forest.
Branches slap me in the face, but I can barely feel the stinging pain because I’m too high on adrenaline and the rush of the chase. Jumping over a fallen log, I land in a stream of icy water, which quickly soaks through my shoes and socks. I spin around, only to see the masked man step over the log as though he has all the time in the world to hunt me, and I realize, as he rests the baseball bat on his shoulder, that he’s dragging it out on purpose for the same reason as me. He enjoys the chase, too.
Stumbling back, my foot catches on an exposed root, and I fall to the damp ground. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I glance around for a stick or a rock to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing within reach. He tilts his head sideways to study me, and pinecones sink into the mossy ground as he stalks me.
Crawling backward like a crab, I spin around and launch myself to my feet. There’s no time to think and no time to strategize. I run like my life depends on it, and the faster I run, the harder my dick gets. Raising my arms to protect my face, I barrel through the branches of two fir trees. The forest is denser here, and the moss is wetter. I’ve lost track of time since mystepbrother caught my scent like a predator in the night, but I’d lie if I said I didn’t enjoy playing the role of the helpless prey.
I make the swift decision to grab a broken branch off the forest floor. It’s heavy in my hands and takes effort to hold upright, but it’ll do just fine. When Cole emerges, slapping the fir branches out of the way with his bat, I swing at him and knock him off his feet, but the victory is short-lived.
“Fuck,” he growls underneath his mask and rises to stand, unfolding to his full height like something out of a horror flick. I swear I almost come in my pants when he snarls at me. “You’ll regret that.”
Dropping the heavy branch, I bolt.
My T-shirt is soaked with sweat, and my thigh muscles burn. I can’t remember the last time I put this much effort into running. I play football, sure, but this is different. Thank fuck, I’m in good shape, or I would have collapsed by now. Behind me, Cole’s boots pound the forest floor, crushing red-capped mushrooms beneath his rubber soles. Pine needles stick to my jeans from my fall earlier, and I’m sure my hands are covered in grime, but the eerie setting is perfect.
Darkness soon settles over the forest, and an owl’s hoot penetrates the sound of my heavy pants.
I emerge into a clearing and pause at the sight of a derelict old building. Shivers race down my spine as I take in the broken windows and the vines crawling across the weathered brick. The door is long gone, and now the entryway gapes like a dark void.
“Fuck,” I breathe, then glance behind me. There’s no sign of Cole. Only silence surrounds me now. Even the owl has stopped hooting.
Turning around to scan the tree line, I inch closer to the house, deciding that the creepy house is less of a threat than my chaser with his bat. But that’s a lie. My dick tells me as much when it jumps at the thought of seeing him enter the clearing.
Something breaks through the branches to my left, making my heart stutter, and I look down in time to see a large rock roll close to my shoes.
Fuck…
Inhaling a steadying breath, I will the organ in my chest to get a grip. He’s trying to psyche me out, and it’s working.
I lift my gaze and stiffen. Shadowed by the fir trees, his mask peers at me from behind the spindly branches. He shifts, and something else catches my eye. There’s no sign of the bat, his previous weapon of choice.
“Fuck me,” I choke, staring at the carved hunting knife in his hand. My throat jumps as he tilts his head, and I swear he smiles underneath the mask. A trickle of fear licks my spine and mixes with the growing thrill. I don’t know how to feel, and it makes me dizzy.
Before I can explore the heady concoction of emotions, instinct takes over. I whirl around and dart for the house. There’s no time to think and no time to process what the hell is happening, or why he’s armed with a knife, or what he plans to do with it.
I enter through the doorway, kicking up dried leaves as I run down the dark hall. How this building still stands is a mystery. It reeks of rot and decay. Covering my nose with my hand, I come to a stop at the bottom of the staircase. I could escape upstairs, but the steps are wooden, and there’s no telling if they’ll collapse beneath my weight, though judging by the foul smell, it’s not worth the risk.
“Blaaaiiiise.” His voice booms behind me, and I curse under my breath and escape into the nearest room.
An overturned couch in the middle of the small space and a mannequin by the window are the only items here. There’s nowhere to hide.
“Shit,” I whisper, my head whipping from left and right in search of something to use to fight him off, but there’s nothing. When his heavy footsteps fall silent in the doorway, I know my time is up. Short of launching myself at the broken window at my back, there’s nowhere to go.
My breath catches when he crosses the threshold. This is it. I watch, unmoving, as he makes a show of rounding the couch to get to me. Maybe I should take my chances with the shards of glass lining the window frame, after all.
At the memory of escaping through the window at Jackson’s party, my wounded palms throb.
“I bet your dick is leaking for me,” Cole taunts, the rotten floorboards creaking beneath his weight.
