Page 143 of Almost Rotten

The video.

I can’t let anyone fucking see what’s mine.

Grunting, I try to block out the pain slicing through my chest and pull myself to my feet.

I blink rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust.

“Give that fucking back.” Singularly focused on the light from the phone, I charge toward the person cloaked in darkness several feet away.

Either I’m really fucking slow or he’s really fucking fast, because before I can get a hold on him, he blocks my assault and counterattacks, shoving me back into a wall.

The resulting pain in my side is white hot and intensifying by the second. Vomit burns my esophagus.

I push back, but I get nowhere, my arms weak, my head spinning.

Anger and pain blinding me, I swing, hoping like hell I can dislodge the phone from this fucker’s hand.

I was about to place a call, so it’s already unlocked.

Fuckin’ A.

He can’t see that video. No one can have her but me.

Anger turns to rage as I swing, kick, and lash out wildly.

Strong hands grip my shoulders and shove me back.

My heel catches on an uneven surface behind me, and I stumble backward. I try to catch myself, but my arm gives out, and when I slam into a metal wall, my side erupts in mind-numbing agony.

I push off but quickly smack into another wall.

Then another.

To one side, there’s a line of darkness not quite as black as the rest of my surroundings. It’s an opening I’ve been pushed through, I realize.

I dart for it, but before I reach it, it disappears.

There was an opening, but now there’s not.

There was a door—a way out—but now it’s gone.

Darkness infiltrates all my senses.

The sound of a metal closure clicking into place is barely audible above my labored breathing.

I’m in a cage.

I’m locked up.

I’m helpless and useless, and the one way out is gone.

And as reality sinks in and awareness washes over me, every cell in my body implodes.

Chapter sixty-four

Tytus

The door isn’t rattling.