Page 29

Dallas

I hope I’m not drooling. I’m probably drooling.

I snap my mouth shut when I realize it’s still hanging open and try to refocus. I’d know his dark eyes anywhere, especially cast in shadow beneath the bill of his camo hat. The last time I saw him, I was looking at him just like this, except his smile was covered by the bottom half of a motorcycle helmet.

Jesse.

But, even then, I knew he was smiling from the way his eyes squinted so much that it looked like they were closed. And he’s looking at me just like that right now. The only difference is that his facial features are sharper and more pronounced and he’s gotten more muscular.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still in state of shock.

He glances at the table covered in baskets of wings and pints of beer. “We got hungry.”

“Oh, yeah,” I laugh, realizing how idiotic that sounded. “I mean, what are the odds I finally run into you after all this time?”

“It’s not that strange,” Jesse scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, “hasn’t anyone ever told you that there are no coincidences?”

“Like you were predestined to be sitting here with some wings and beer in the middle of my shift tonight?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “or you just fucked up our timeline.”

I blink once and then plant one hand on my hip. “I did what? ”

He doesn’t bat an eye. “I’m just saying, maybe if you’d gotten on my bike that one night, it wouldn’t have taken six years for me to see you again.”

My mouth opens and I pinch my brow. I don’t know whether to be excited or outraged.

His cheek twitches with amusement, drawing attention to his dimples. “You could’ve saved me a lot of trouble,” he adds.

“ I could’ve saved you a lot of trouble?”

The audacity.

“It’s OK, I forgive you,” he replies with nonchalance, “just don’t do it again.”

“Are you finished?”

“For now,” he nods to the table, “want to sit down?”

“Can’t, I’m working.”

“Until when?”

No sooner does Jesse finish the word than a man’s hand squeezes the back of my neck and I flinch as he leans into my ear. I don’t know whether to be relieved or horrified when I pull back and see that it’s Ron.

“Allie called in,” he says over the roar of the pub. “I’m going to need you to help close tonight.”

“But I’m off in an hour,” I argue.

“Do you have plans?”

If I do, they’re none of your goddamn business.

I can’t help but notice that he has plenty of people here to close, even without Allie. My skin begins to crawl as he starts brushing his thumb up and down the side of my neck, making me wonder if Allie was even scheduled to begin with.

Ron glances at Jesse and then around the table at his friends. “Ambitious of you, don’t you think?” he asks, giving me a quick once-over. “Where are you going to put the fourth?”

My shoulders go rigid and I feel a wave of heat rush into my cheeks. I hear a snicker, and then a murmur, but I don’t dare look at the table. Once the shock subsides, a mixture of rage and humiliation replaces it and I shove Ron’s arm off of me and storm back to the bar. But instead of stopping, I continue down the corridor to the restrooms.

Miraculously, it’s empty, so no one is there to witness my face contort into a frustrated sob before I suck a lungful of air in and pull myself together. I’ve seen Ron’s creepy ass go after other people, but this is the first time it’s actually been directed at me.

Fuck him. I should quit. I could walk out of here right now and it wouldn’t matter.

And then I feel an eerie sense of déjà vu. My brother’s voice pops into my head. We’re sitting in my room, and Colson’s lying next to me, watching me play a video game.

“You always try to be nice first…but sometimes you should lean into being a prick.”

Since when is that a character flaw? I clench my jaw and my eyes fall to the crack in the stall door. I set my jaw, step out of the stall, and check my makeup in the mirror before leaving the restroom. I keep my eyes ahead and disappear into the back, where I start restocking supplies and doing the tasks that no one else wants to do on a busy night, which also guarantees that no one will speak to me for a while.

About an hour later, I notice that the bouncers, Joey and Steve, are lugging two five-gallon buckets each out of the basement. Good, I hope they’re throwing the stupid pickles in the dumpster out back. And I hope someone stabs Ron on the way to his car and throws him in after them—commit him to the briny deep like the squid that he is.

By the time I finally emerge from the back toting quart containers of lemons, limes, cherries, and olives, the table by the window is empty and my stomach sinks.

Because Jesse’s gone…again.

It only adds insult to injury when last call rolls around and I know I’m going to be a zombie the next morning in class. And just like I thought, there’s plenty of staff to close. And, now, I’m absolutely sure this was just an opportunity to solidify my spot in Ron’s sleazy hierarchy.

Fucking asshole.

“At least all those goddamn pickles are gone,” I hear Kara tell Sarah, one of the other bartenders.

“Did he finally decide to just trash them?” I mutter as I yank my hoodie on.

“No,” she shoots me a coy look over her shoulder, “your friends bought all of them.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, those guys you were talking to.”

Jesse and his friends…bought all the pickles?

“Guys!” Duane’s voice echoes from the back door. “Get out here, you have to see this!”

All of us scurry out the back door to the parking lot where the dumpsters are. Duane is standing next to Ron’s silver Porsche with a wild grin on his face. It’s unclear what he’s even looking at until we get closer. The Porsche looks wet, but it’s a clear night, and there’s a distinct smell emanating from the parking space.

Vinegar.

Slowly, it dawns on everyone that Ron’s car is covered in whole Kosher dills and the brine they were packed in. What’s more, the windows have been pried open and gallons upon gallons of pickle juice is pooled on the floorboards with the dills scattered all over the leather seats.

Soon, Ron comes flying across the asphalt and stops dead in his tracks when he sees his pickled Porsche.

“Are you kidding me?” he roars, stalking around the vehicle. “ Who the fuck did this? ”

“Check the cameras, I guess,” Steve snickers.

“No can do,” Duane can barely breathe, he’s laughing so hard, “Ron never replaced them after they quit working. He said it was too expensive! ”

No one can contain their laughter now. And the more they laugh, the redder Ron’s face gets, and the more intense my satisfaction becomes. How does he even own a Porsche? I guess anyone can make a monthly payment. I hope he’s underwater on it and now he's royally fucked.

“What’s the matter, Ron?” I ask as my mouth twitches with amusement. “Why do you look so sour?”

At the last word, Kara doubles over with laughter.

“I’m pressing charges,” he juts a finger out at me, “I want those guys’ names now! ”

“I wouldn’t know. Thanks to you, I didn’t get that far,” I drawl through slitted eyes. “Maybe they were mad that your dusty ass wrecked their evening.”

I turn to leave while everyone else continues gawking and laughing at Ron’s pickle-flooded car. As hilarious as this is, I can’t wait to get home and get as much sleep as I can before I have to go to class. I’m sure I can enjoy this tomorrow. Steve is already circling the Porsche with his phone, claiming to be recording it for “evidence,” but his smug look says otherwise.

“Bullshit!” Ron shouts at my back as I toss my purse into my Civic. “The next time I see your criminal boyfriend here—”

“What are you going to do? Can me? ” I call over my shoulder, ducking inside to the howls of laughter behind me.

●●●

Come the following evening, the pickle bandits are still on the loose.

I find out at my next shift that the only security cameras that pick up anything near Blood Horse belong to the floral shop next door. And even then, the owner, Cheryl Swaggert, doesn’t see any rush in providing any useful information. She’s still angry with Ron for telling his staff to throw the pub’s garbage in her dumpsters when ours got full on New Year’s Eve. At the end of the day, the Porsche remains pickled and Ron is shit out of luck.

Ron watches me like a hawk all evening, probably to see if my delinquent “friends” return, but otherwise leaves me alone. Good thing, or I might get some other mysterious stranger to fill his gas tank with hot sauce.

I’m on my way to my car when a voice calls out from somewhere nearby.

“ Dallas. ”

I jerk my head up, my eyes darting around while I search for the source in the dim light. Finally, they come to a halt on a figure leaning against an orange dirt bike at the edge of the alleyway. But as soon as I see him, I immediately relax.

Jesse pushes off the bike and strolls toward me, his face obscured once again by his black motorcycle helmet.

“Did you get my present?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“That was pretty good,” I chuckle. “I hear you’ve been banned from the premises.”

“Brutal,” Jesse replies. “Guess I’ll have to find somewhere else to hang out. Maybe we can see another impromptu concert together instead.”

“It’s funny you say that, because I’m actually going to see Shapeshift at Riverside Live tomorrow.”

“That’s convenient,” his voice hitches, “so am I.”

“ What? ” I exclaim in shock.

“You’ll learn that you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Apparently not.”

“Here, give me your number,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me, “so I don’t have to chase you around town for another six years.”

A flutter ripples through my stomach as I take it from him and my fingers fly over the glass.

“Do you need a ride home?” he asks.

“No, I have my car,” I motion to my Civic parked against the brick wall.

Jesse glances over my shoulder at the Civic and then starts strolling across the asphalt. I follow, unlocking the doors with the fob as we approach.

“Look at you, speed racer,” he quips as he admires the oversized rims on their low-profile tires and the lowered suspension.

“I’m not.” I open the driver’s side door and toss my purse into the seat. “My brother was, but he upgraded and I got his old car.”

“Lucky you.” He tilts his head, admiring the after-market intake on the hood. “What’s he drive now?”

“An old Bronco,” I snicker.

As much as I complain about it, the Civic’s not a bad car. Even though racing is the last thing I’d ever want to do, it still looks cool and it’ll probably run for another 100,000 miles even with how hard Colson tried to grind it into oblivion.

Finally, Jesse’s eyes meet mine again. “Can I drive it?”

I arch one brow. “You race cars, too?” Just what I need, some arrogant gearhead like my brother.

He glances at his bike across the lot. “I race a lot of things. But if you won’t ride on my bike, let me take you on a ride in your car.”

I gaze at him skeptically, studying his dark eyes in the shadow of his helmet.

“OK, fine,” I shrug.

As if I’d let him walk away this time.

I round the car to the other side, where he’s holding the passenger door open. Then he returns to the driver’s side, shedding his black motorcycle jacket and then his helmet, tossing his hair out of his eyes before he slides behind the wheel. Then he sets his helmet and jacket at my feet and flashes his eyes at me before starting the engine.

I’ve seen that look before, and my only response is to fasten my seatbelt and reach for the grab handle. As soon as Jesse pulls out of the lot, he guns the engine, making my stomach flip as he flies through campus like a fucking bat out of hell. Somehow, we don’t hit one red light and I don’t even realize we’re at the highway until Jesse’s sling-shotting off the ramp. He shifts and punches the accelerator, weaving in and out of traffic until every car is behind us and the only light comes from the poles lining the road.

“You race a lot of things, huh?” I peer at him out of the corner of my eye.

“I used to have a fast car, too,” he smiles, letting up on the gas only slightly.

“You don’t anymore?”

He shakes his head with a hint of disappointment. “No, I still have the bike, but the car is long gone. Had to replace it with something more practical.”

I shoot him a coy smile. “Are you reliving your glory days in my car right now?”

“You could say that.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but his dimples give away the smile lurking just beneath.

“What do you do for fun now that you don’t have a fast car? I mean, besides destroy other people’s cars with buckets of pickles.”

He breaks into a smile. “The usual—concerts, bikes, video games. But, if you still want to keep me around after tonight, maybe I can drive this one every once in a while.”

Jesse keeps sounding better by the minute.

“I guess that depends,” I cast him a sideways glance, “where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” he cocks his head pensively, “have you ever been out to the Iron Rail High Bridge?”

Instantly, my breath catches.

The old railroad bridge.

“Yeah, actually.” I clear my throat. “I grew up near there.” But I haven’t set foot there in six years.

“Really?” Jesse replies. “I’ve ridden some of the trails around there. Want to go?”

The truth is…I don’t know. But when I look at Jesse, I’m reminded that it was a long time ago. I didn’t know him back then, when everything happened at the end of freshman year—not really. I met him in a mosh pit, then he disappeared, and now he’s traversed time and space like a relic from the past, except he doesn’t know about any of my baggage.

“Sure,” I finally say, this time with some resolve. “Let’s do it.”

As the Civic snakes up the windy road, I can’t help but laugh to myself at how much more I’m enjoying the ride up here this time around compared to the last, when I was crammed in an SUV with a bunch of girls while they talked about Colson and his friends—the fuckboys.

Gross.

I immediately recognize the stone wall at the overlook as Jesse comes to a halt in the clearing. He kills the engine and opens the door, exiting the car. But I’m still sitting in the passenger seat, contemplating whether to get out. But before I can make a decision, my door opens and Jesse leans down.

“Are you coming?” he asks, extending his hand to me.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab his hand and let him help me out of the car. But instead of letting me go, he rotates his hand and weaves his fingers through mine as he leads me across the clearing. We stop at the stone wall, pausing to look out over the vast expanse of forest.

When I look up at Jesse’s profile, he looks so content. I should be, too, but I’m still trying to tamp down all the dark memories threatening to ruin this moment.

He glances down at me, as though he can sense it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” There’s no way I’m explaining all of this to him right now. “I haven’t been up here since I was 15. There was a lot of stuff going on back then that I don’t like thinking about.”

“I get it.” He leans back on the edge of the wall. “Do I just need to distract you? Talk sweet to you some more?”

“I wouldn’t say you’ve talked sweet to me,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.

“Really? Shit, ” he chuckles. “I’m usually better at this.”

“Are you?”

He snaps his fingers. “You know what it is? You know me by how I feel instead of how I sound.”

Slowly, Jesse reaches for my hand again. I let him draw me in, and at the last second, he turns me around and pulls my back to his chest. He wraps one arm around my stomach and crosses the other over my shoulders, and as soon as he envelopes me in his warmth, I remember the Shapeshift show back in high school, and I remember exactly how he felt. But I can’t tell whether it’s eerie or serendipitous. Because I also remember the last time that I was in this clearing, and then what happened out in the woods.

How many kids have come up here since that night to park their cars and drink and play games like Manhunt? It’s like stepping through a portal; the dense trees are still pitch black like the maw of a giant monster, the night breeze still smells the same, and the rusted out burn barrel lays on its side on the far end of the overlook.

But after all this time, maybe this is where I’m supposed to be…with him.

“So,” Jesse murmurs against my temple, “what happened to you?”

“My sister died.” It comes out as a quiet, monotone statement. It’s been years, but I still decide to leave the murder part for another time.

“I have a sister, too,” he replies softly.

I’m relieved that he shifts the focus back to himself.

“Are you all close?”

“Practically the same person, except she can be even meaner than I am.”

I turn to look up at him. “Are you mean?”

The residual glow from the distant light pole casts a glint in his eye. “Sometimes, but only when someone tries to take what’s mine.”

He presses his lips to my cheek, lingering there before trailing slow kisses down my jawline. A jolt of electricity shoots through my belly all the way down to my legs as his fingers move across my throat and over my breastbone, dipping past the edge of my shirt. But then I turn and take a step back.

Then another…and another…

There’s a spark behind his eyes as he starts after me, matching my pace. “Did I scare you, Dallas?”

A smile dances across my lips as I shake my head and continue backtracking across the gravel.

“Are you going to run from me?”

I’m not on the track team anymore, but I’m probably still faster than you, I laugh to myself.

My eyes dart to the trees.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns.

“Why not?” Maybe I want to see what it’s like running through those woods again. Maybe this time I won’t be afraid.

“Because you don’t know what’ll happen when I catch you.”

I hesitate for a moment, and then lunge to the side. But I don’t tear across the clearing into the woods. Instead, I wait for Jesse’s impeccable reflexes as he swings his arm out, catching me around the waist. I let out a cackle as he jerks me to his chest and lifts me off the ground.

“Nice fake-out,” he chuckles as he lumbers toward my car, still holding me in his vice grip.

My back hits the Civic and I wrap my arm around his neck, pulling his lips to mine. He smells really good—like spearmint—and he tastes even better.

“Can I go home with you?” Jesse murmurs between kisses.

Absolutely.

I rake my fingers through his hair, pulling back slightly. “Are you going to disappear after?”

There’s no way I’m letting that happen this time.

“Not if you ask me to stay.” He presses me harder against the car. “But I changed my mind, I’m not waiting to get to your house.”

He reaches for the door handle and jerks it open. As soon as he lowers me back down, I turn and duck into the back seat. The door slams shut and Jesse grabs me behind the knee. My back hits the seat and he comes down on top of me like a wave crashing on a beach. I dig my fingertips into the muscles on his back and pull him closer, relishing the feeling of his body against mine as my tongue dances with his.

“ Shit. ” He lifts his head. “I don’t have anything.”

Good thing I grab a handful of condoms from the basket at the student pharmacy every time I need cold medicine.

“I think I have one in my bag,” I murmur back. “You don’t have to stop. Please , just don’t leave again.”

“Say it again, Dallas.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “ And mean it. ”

“I want you to stay, Jesse,” I moan as the heat pools between my legs. “I want you to stay.”

He pulls back, furrowing his brow with amusement. “Why’d you just call me Jesse?”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s a guy I went to high school with,” he smiles.

I open my mouth in surprise. “I heard someone call that name, back when I first met you, and then you looked over, so I thought it was yours.” I roll my eyes with embarrassment. “No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Suddenly, his face softens. “You looked for me?”

“ Of course, I looked for you! ” I hiss incredulously.

The guy formerly known as Jesse taps his forehead against mine. “I guess there are worse people to be mistaken for, but no, sweetheart, I’m most definitely not Jesse.”

“OK, then who are you?”

He sinks down and slowly slides his tongue between my lips, emptying my lungs of air, then slides his hand up my shirt to cup my breast. “That depends,” he says between deep kisses that make me curl around him tighter.

“Depends on what?” I ask, raking my fingers up the back of his scalp.

“If your brother’s around.”

I pause with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Where's your brother?” he asks again. “I haven't seen him for a couple years now. I thought he'd never leave.”

“ Who… ” my voice trails off in a crackly whisper.

He dips down and kisses my forehead. “Where—” He kisses my nose. “Is—” He kisses my lips, then slowly pulls back. “ Colson? ”

There’s a bright flash in my head.

A photo…

A soccer player with a red jersey. I see his face, his dark eyes, and the same mouth snarling at Colson. There’s blood, and I can hear Colson’s voice…

“This is who killed Evie. And he’s going to come after you, too.”

Bowen.

Bowen Garrison.

My arms fly up and I try to grab the back of the seat, but he clenches my hair at the back of my head with one hand and grabs my wrist with the other, his weight pinning me down.

“ Shhhh… ” Bowen hisses.

“No, no, no, no…” The panic rises, bubbling over. “ Let me out! ” I scream in terror, thrashing beneath him.

“Dallas,” he deadpans.

“ Let me out! Let me out! ” I scream over and over.

“Dallas,” he says again, but I barely hear him.

I let out another barrage of screams and curses until, finally, Bowen clenches my scalp and slams my head back down onto the seat, rendering me silent.

“ Dallas, ” he says again, this time with a sharper tone. “Honey…sweetheart… baby girl ...I’m kind of disappointed. Here I was, thinking I was bringing you somewhere special, and you’ve already been up here.”

I press my lips together, my chin trembling and my scalp on fire as he glares down at me with his dark eyes, now completely black.

The devil’s eyes.

“Who’d you come up here with, Dallas?” His lip twitches with malice. “Was it Col? Did he bring you up here to defile you so I wouldn’t want his other sister, too?”

What the hell is he talking about?

My heart’s pounding so hard that it’s going to punch through my chest any second. My mind is a chaotic mess and my muscles are shaking from the adrenaline overload. I have to get out of here.

A venomous smile seeps across Bowen’s face. “I remember the first time I saw you, Dallas. I’ll never forget it. Your eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen.”

He loosens his grip on my wrist and trails his fingers up my arm, brushes them across my shoulder to my neck. Then he slips a finger beneath the delicate chain of my necklace and gently pulls it taught. As soon as I see the amethyst pendant lift off my chest, my heart leaps to my throat. On reflex, I start struggling harder, moving with the pendant like a magnet.

Please, no…

Bowen toys with it, absently sliding the jewel back and forth. Soon enough, tears spill over my cheeks and I clench my jaw, unable to stifle the whimpers that escape. He could do a lot of things to me right now, and he probably will. But the threat of him taking the necklace, destroying it, is worse than anything else. Bowen’s hand slows when he notices my panic.

“Is this important to you?” He glances down at the necklace. “Who gave it to you?”

I don’t dare answer him, just wait for him to let go.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

No.

“Don’t be shy. Was it him?”

Why does he hate my brother so much?

“It’d be a shame—” Bowen hovers over my face, “if someone took it from you. ”

I turn away, unable to look Bowen in the eye. But then catch sight of his arm and the tattoos I never noticed until now, masked by the darkness. His forearm is covered in chaotic strokes that form leaves and little blue flowers. And, to my horror, he notices my eyes linger a little too long on it.

“Do you like stories, Dallas?” he asks with a sickening edge. When I don’t answer, his eyes go dark and he grits his teeth. “You’d do better to answer me when I speak to you.”

“Sure,” I croak up at him, trying desperately to pacify the situation.

To my relief, Bowens lets the pendant fall from his finger, if only to turn his attention to something more insidious.

“A long time ago, when the Comanches were suffering from drought and famine, the Shaman went up the mountain to ask their god for help. Come to find out, they were being punished for taking from the land, but giving nothing in return. So, to appease their god, they burned their most prized possessions as a sacrifice. There was a little girl who burned her favorite doll with a blue feather in her hair, and the next morning, the land was covered in bluebonnets as far as the eye could see. And, soon, the rain returned and balance was restored.”

Bowen stares down at me for the longest time, until he finally bows his head, an inferno blazing behind his eyes.

“It’s about sacrifice, Dallas. And that’s what you are, because your brother tried to take what belonged to me. And now he’s finally abandoned you to the fire.” He seizes the top of my throat while I weep beneath him. “I’m your god now, and you are my most prized possession.”

“ Bo—Bowen… ” My voice catches, the sound barely coming out. “Please…just leave. I don’t know where he is.”

“I don’t care where he is, I only care where you are.” And with that, he turns my cheek and drags his tongue up the side of my face, licking off my tears and replacing them with his saliva.

“Why are you doing this?” I cry in despair.

“Do you know how long I’ve been with you, Dallas?” His lips brush against mine as he speaks. “The thing about pretty little flowers is that you’re not supposed to pick them, you’re supposed to leave them be and let them grow. But they’re so beautiful, you can’t help but want to touch them.”

Bowen speaks like he’s confessing a secret, and each time his hips grind against mine, I want to scream until my lungs give out.

“You know when I got this?” He glances at the bluebonnets stretching from his wrist to his elbow. “It was the night you turned 18, baby girl.”

I recoil as he releases my chin and runs his hand down to the curve of my chest.

“That needle felt so good. Almost as good as watching you run the track at Dire Ridge, following you through the Haunted Forest in Hellbranch on Halloween, and knowing exactly where to find you at Ryland’s every time you skipped class with your friends—Shelby…Maddie…Carter…and Dire Ridge’s star shooting guard, number 17 … ” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “ Austin…Bostwick. ”

Oh my god…

“It was enough at the time,” Bowen continues, “just admiring you like a beautiful flower— my beautiful flower—with those goddamn blue eyes of yours.”

Practically catatonic, I stare at the bluebonnets, clenching my jaw as his hand moves over me.

“But I’m sick of looking at this ink. Now I want the real thing.”

This is it. I’m going to die here. Dread fills my soul as his poisonous touch moves down my torso to my hip, where I feel him touch the waist of my pants.

“ And I get what I fucking want. ”

With a snap of his fingers, he unfastens the button of my pants. I start thrashing again, grunting as I try to push him away, to shimmy out from beneath him. But it’s no use, he’s bigger, and he’s stronger. Bowen grabs my wrist, making me cry out. Then he grabs the other and pins my hands above my head.

“If you keep fighting me, Dallas, I’ll have to break that pretty face of yours. And then you’ll have to sit somewhere quiet until you can behave, just like my last girl.”

My face contorts in frustration, the tears he licked off me already replaced by fresh ones. Bowen drops one hand and cups the side of my face, slowly tracing my lips with his thumb. His stills on my bottom lip and then gives it a gentle tug.

“Open that mouth for me, baby girl.”

I give a quick shake of my head, squeezing my eyes shut. But then he grabs my throat and gives me a rough shake as he cuts off my air. “I’ll snap your neck right now, Dallas. You think I give a fuck? I’ve done worse things to a dead body.”

Out of panic or the need to breathe, I open my mouth and Bowen hooks his index and middle finger over my teeth, sliding them over my tongue. I want to gag the further back he goes until, on reflex, I close my mouth, covering his fingers in spit.

A few seconds later, he retracts his hand and reaches down. My panicked breaths give way to muted squeaks as I try to keep it together, but fail miserably. He gently pulls the zipper on my pants down and pulls one side open.

“You know your eyes are the brightest after you’ve been crying? They’re fucking hypnotizing, just like they are right now.”

“ Stop, stop, stop, stop… ” I squeak in shallow breaths like a pathetic incantation, but it’s only fuel for Bowen’s sadistic game.

My thighs go rigid as Bowen slips his hand down my underwear, eliciting a terrified gasp when I feel his fingers on my bare skin. My sneakers pound against the seats and the door, but his waist keeps my legs firmly splayed open. He hisses through his teeth as he painstakingly moves his fingers in slow circles. I dig in and press my ass into the seat, trying in vain to evade his touch, but he finds what he’s looking for and I let out a shriek as he pushes one finger inside me.

My mouth twists into a nauseated grimace, and when I dare to open my eyes, he’s gazing down at me, oscillating between awe and the snarl of a hungry beast.

“I just stared at you over that casket for the longest time, and that’s when I realized you’re the one.”

Suddenly, Rory’s voice rings out in my head.

Oh, Dally…he doesn’t want to kill you…

Maybe if I hyperventilate, I’ll pass out. Maybe if I’m unconscious, it’ll be relatively painless. But he continues moving his palm against me with the most wretched intent, and with each movement, my body betrays me more, detached from the grotesque scene playing out.

“You like that?” he teases when he feels the friction subside. “You want to hear about how I counted down the days until I could keep you for myself?”

At the last word, he pushes a second finger inside me and I go rigid with a muted cry. The corners of his mouth curl with amusement at the sound of my agony.

“Everyone will see what I want them to see on the outside, but you’ll be my queen, my goddess, everything that no one else could be. And I’ll never share you with anyone on this earth.”

I try to look away, close my eyes, disassociate in any way possible. But he knows what he’s doing, curling his fingers while he continues his vile game.

“I’ll be so good to you, Dallas.” He rolls his forehead over mine. “You’ll never want to leave me.”

Shut up, please, just shut up…

A tiny, horrific squeak escapes my throat and I shudder, trying to mentally shut down while I fight the perverse sensation building in my core.

“Are you going to come for me, baby girl?” he teases. “Col’s baby sister’s a wet little whore for me, isn’t she?”

Bowen pushes a third finger inside me, grinning at the obscene sound it makes as it sends a sharp jolt of pain through my groin. I let out a scream and frantically pull against his hands, but the harder I fight him, the tighter his grip gets.

“ Please… ” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through my sobs, focusing on the darkness, trying to think of something else—anything else. “ I just want to go home… ”

He lets go of my wrists and, suddenly, there’s a crack and an intense sting radiates across my cheek.

“You close your eyes again, and I’ll use more than my hand to wake you up!” Bowen snarls.

I want to flee this car and throw myself off the cliff outside, furious that my flesh is nothing but a traitorous pile of mental carrion. It’s not right, this isn’t supposed to happen. Pain and terror aren’t supposed to do this.

“ I—I hate you! ” I cry out as he buries his fingers knuckle deep inside me. “ I hate you! ”

“You hate me?” He pauses, fury washing over his eyes. “You don’t know what hate is!”

Before I realize what’s happening, Bowen grabs my pants, jerking them down so forcefully that I think my hip dislocates. I let out a shrill scream as he hooks his arm under one of my knees and pins it to the seat. I try to pull myself up, but each time, he shoves me back down with barely any effort. Until, finally, he thrusts his hips forward, knocking the breath out of me.

My lungs seize at the impact, but soon morph into howls of wet gibberish. Sharp smacks fill the car like a metronome as he slams into me, over and over, each one like a lethal punch to the gut while he invades my body with utter contempt. But it’s not enough, and the humiliation only drags on.

“Just give it up, Dallas,” he taunts. “Fight me all you want, but you’re going to let me finish you.”

I fight as hard as I can, every neuron firing as I desperately try to stop it. I hold my breath, willing myself to freeze, to go numb, to reject every one of his cells touching mine. But moments later, I let out a tortured shriek as my thighs clench around him.

He revels in my agony, biting his lip and pumping harder toward the unthinkable. I jerk my head away, his violent threats be damned, squeezing my eyes shut while I try to suppress my body’s nauseating response. But then it’s over, and I’m still pinned beneath his weight while my muscles involuntarily contract in the worst of ways.

Bowen gently rotates my wet and snotty face. “I’m going to make your eyes this shade of blue all the time,” his gentle tone is laced with malice, “so when you’re the most beautiful, it’s because I’m tearing you apart.”

I fold in on myself, gasping and moaning in pain as he lifts his weight off me. My moans turn to sobs and soon, all I can hear is my chest clicking, my lungs devoid of air.

“Enjoy your freedom, baby girl. The night’ll come when you wake up in a safe place where I can have fun with you whenever I want.”

He pauses, gazing down at me with sickening satisfaction.

“Probably when you start showing,” he adds and gives my ass a sharp smack.

Nausea roils through me as he leaves me curled up in the fetal position, my hands clutching my head as I hide behind my thick wall of hair. Bowen throws open the door and climbs out, but not before ducking down once more, making me flinch at the sight of his face.

“And if you try to get rid of it,” he warns, “I’ll gut you from cunt to mouth and mount your head on my wall.”

Then he slams the door, leaving me a trembling ball in the back seat, unable to move a muscle for the next two hours.