Page 81 of Dance of Devils

“You’re fuckingdead, bitch!!” he roars. “All I wanted was your fucking whore mouth,” he snarls. “But now? I’m gonna fuck that ass until you scream for me!”

I’m shaking so hard that I can barely see straight or function. I somehow yank my keys out and try to shove them into the ignition. James keeps banging on the window, screaming all the disgusting things he’s going to do to me as I desperately try to shove the key in.

Finally, success.

My pulse races, my breath coming in short, gasping chokes as I turn the key.

The battery ticks over, then goes silent.

No.

I try again, my very soul collapsing inside my chest as I hear the impotentclick-click-clickof Pearl’s dead battery.

“Open the fucking door, bitch!!”

I jolt when James slams his forearm against the window.

“Open up, you fucking cunt!” he snarls, jabbing a finger at me, his face a mask of hatred. “Open it now and I’ll show a little fucking mercy. You make me break it down and yank you out, I’m gonna make you cry!”

In a panic, I lurch into the back seat and yank the little curtain shut that gives me some privacy at night. James laughs coldly outside.

“Not gonna fuckin’ stop me, you fucking bitch!”

He slams on the driver's side window again. Then it goes quiet. Just as I’m about to pull back the curtain on the window to see if he’s gone, there’s a horrible smashing sound accompanied by the sound of cracking glass.

Holy shit.

He’s got a rock, or a brick, orsomething. When it slams against the window again, I can hear the glass splintering, like it’s about to smash in.

When that happens, he’ll have me.

I don’t think I’ll survive that.

My pulse thunders as I whirl, yanking my bedsheets off the back seat. My hands are shaking, the splintering sound of glass rattling my every nerve as I pull down the folding seat to reveal the trunk.

I crawl inside, my whole body shaking and trembling as I turn and yank the seat back into place, plunging me into darkness. Ihear glass shattering, and bite back a scream when James roars triumphantly as he gets through the window.

“You’re fuckin’ mine now, you fucking cunt!” he bellows into the car. I hear the click of the lock—probably from him reaching through and unlocking it—before the front door wrenches open.

He’s going to find me.

He’s going to hurt me, and rape me, maybe even fucking kill me.

In a panic, I turn on my cell phone and whirl to the back of the dark trunk.

…The little emergency release tab dangles right in my face.

There’s no time to wonder if this will work.

It justhas to.

I yank on the tab, my heart in my throat until the trunk pops open, streetlights flooding in. With a last burst of strength, I clamber out, whirling to see James half inside Pearl, his legs kicking in the air.

Without another thought I turn and fuckingrunwithout looking back.

Finally, my legs threaten to give out and my body wants to throw up calories I can’t spare. I’m trembling and heaving when I finally stutter to a stop outside a bodega maybe eight blocks away. I bend over, raggedly gasping for air before it hits me.

My dance bag.