Page 103 of Piggy

“Look at me, you blabbering cunt.”

“No.”

“Look.”

“No.” I spit the word.

He grabs my chin.

“I said look! Or I’ll kill you first.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss. “You’re nothing. You’re pathetic. You have to tie up girls to get off. That’s not a man. That’s a fucking loser!”

He growls. A dark, feral glare flashes across his face.

Good. Let him be mad.

Because if I die here, I’m not dying quiet.

“Help! Help!” I scream into the hopeless void.

Suddenly, glassexplodes.

A window. Shattering.

Riser jolts upright.

“What the—”

The van rocks. Metal groans. Something heavy crashes in. Boots hit the floor. A blur of movement. Punches emit the primal sound of knuckles hitting flesh and bone.

Riser whirls, but he’s too slow.

A fist slams into his face. Another. A knee to the ribs.

It’s him.

Through the chaos, the slivers of broken glass and moonlight, I see him.

Grayson.

His jaw clenched. Eyes murderous. His whole body made of rage.

They slam into the van walls, the metal warping and crinkling. I scream as a foot crushes my shoulder.

“Ah!” I cry, half-sobbing.

Please, don’t let them crush me.

Then—

“Charlotte,” Grayson shouts, breath ragged, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

That voice.

That voice pulls me back into my body.

Tears flood my eyes, and I lift my head. Not far from me, Riser lies folded over, unconscious. Grayson stands above him, knuckles bleeding, chest rising and falling like he just ran through hell.