Page 27

In my peripheral, I noticed Beau had gone deathly still, his face draining of all color. A tiny crease appeared between his eyes as if he was sifting through his memories, remembering…

“No!” I pushed past Heath and stormed into the gymnasium. The door slammed shut behind me.

Through the glass separating the lobby from the gym, I watched Aiden storm towards the door and pull at the handle.

But the door didn’t budge.

“B, let us in,” he growled out. “Stop fucking around.”

“I didn’t lock the door, asshole.” I felt ridiculous, like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. But what Heath wanted me to face…

I couldn’t do it.

I wasn’t strong enough, brave enough, drunk enough. I couldn’t bare myself to all of these people, all of these strangers. Not yet.

Beau placed one hand against the glass, his face a mask of agony, and I resisted the urge to cross to him and place my hand over his. Instead, I moved towards the door, tugging at the handle.

Locked.

“What the hell…?” I murmured, pulling it again.

“Bianaca…” There was a warning in Aiden’s voice, telling me he would spank the shit out of me if I didn’t get the door opened.

“It’s locked on your side,” I called to him, and I heard the distinct sound of him pulling at the handle repeatedly. And then the sound of him throwing his body against the wood.

“What the fuck is going on?” I knew his question wasn’t directed at me.

Ice cold fear gripped my heart, squeezing until I felt all of it rush to my toes and fingers. I swayed slightly, dizziness threatening to overtake me, as terror stilled my lungs. I could barely breathe, barely think straight.

“Heath?” My voice was scarcely a whisper.

“You need to face this yourself, doll.” There was no humor in his words, no wicked amusement. His solemn tone had the hairs on my arms standing at attention. “If you can face this, we can leave.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Heath didn’t answer, but then again, he didn’t have to.

If I didn’t face this, then we were as good as dead.

Would I be forced to relive that dreadful moment? Replay it on a continuous loop? Would everyone see what Dylan did to me? The way he forced me down and—

“Little ssssister…” The voice resembled a snake hissing, and I couldn’t help but visualize a forked tongue slithering out of the reptile’s mouth.

Fear held me immobile, threatening to consume me completely.

On the other side of the glass, I could hear the others banging on the door, throwing chairs against the impenetrable glass, and screaming my name. Their words and actions barely penetrated the hazy terror clouding my mind.

Briefly, a memory bombarded me.

A car.

Alcohol.

Pain.

Fear.

Crash.