Page 56 of Tempt Me

Even with my heart beating to a painful rhythm and my breath feeling like I was inhaling broken shards of glass, I smiled, finding the strength to push myself off the ground.

Twenty

Fight or flight: The feeling to flee or attack an oncoming threat.

Which one can save me?

I took off at a dead run, feeling the weight of my stupid fucking actions laying heavy on my shoulders.

The devil himself was fucking hunting me. His panting growls chased me as soon as he entered the quiet car garage. Standing still by the stairwell, I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

Recording him? No, just one picture was my stupid thought for the day. God, I’m an idiot!

Mentally scolding myself wouldn’t get me out of my current predicament, but running like fucking hell would.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I skidded to a halt, hiding behind a car.

Staring at his reflection in the car’s side mirror adjacent to me, I gaped at his hulking form coming closer.

This wasn’t fair! It was like throwing a Corgi in a ring with an English Mastiff.

Glancing around, I noticed the chain link fence beside me. The whole fucking car garage was surrounded by it. Fuck, the only way out of here was the north entrance of the stupid parking lot. I was a sitting duck.

I swallowed, trying to catch my breath, and bolted in the opposite direction of where he’d just vacated. The professor was leading me up the ramps. I could detour to hide in the elevator, but there was zero-way of getting away from him in a small box.

With my luck, the thing would ding and lead him right to me. I didn’t see anyone else in here. All the vacant cars were cold and turned off like they had been for a while. Some even had dust collecting on them.

Was I going to be left here? Abandoned like those cars to collect dust?

I kept running, my stupid flats clacking on the ground. These stupid shoes were smashing my feet with every step on the hard cement.

I was getting nauseous. This chase was not meant for people who didn’t exercise, and the height of the fucking ramps was acting like a stupid stair climber. Also, jumping was not a possibility. I would break my neck, probably my whole body, since we were at least six or seven stories high. Maybe I would make it easy on him and trip, ending his issue right here.

The red letters and numbers blurred as I continued running past them, as we ran higher and higher.

Finally, I couldn’t fucking breathe, and I collapsed onto the hood of a fucking car, the blaring alarm temporarily making me feel deaf. The high-pitched sound echoed around the space like a bomb in the quiet. The only other sound was his boots smashing into the pavement texture.

Knowing I had no more time, I pushed myself off the hood, diving behind a truck.

Cursing, I lost my fucking shoe and pulled my shirt up over my mouth, trying to block the harsh sounds of my pants and exhales.

I waited, staring over at the wailing car.

Maybe someone from the asylum would hear it and rescue me.

Holding onto that newfound hope, I calmed enough to listen for his footsteps. I couldn’t hear anything over the damn alarm anymore, the security lights flashing like a strobe in the darkness.

Finally, the wailing cut off, and a quiet ringing in my ears started.

Fuck…Where was he?

He wouldn’t just give up, right?

Maybe he collapsed? He looked unwell when I saw him enter the parking lot. His black hair was disheveled, and his body movements were jerky. He had left the fucking asylum looking like a patient escapee. Sweating, swearing, and smashing into every wall and person he came across.

Now that I was thinking about it, he was acting truly unhinged. Honestly, he was acting like someone who’d been dealing with something akin to deep pain.

Oh god…had he been crying?