Page 159 of Tied to You

Pulling my focus from the man possessed, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. It has to be Dean wondering whether I’ve found the drugs. I should have called him. Should have messaged. Anything. Eventually, he may come here, but I fear it will be too late for me. Matthew will make sure he wins whatever point he’s trying to prove here.

He puts his phone away then dips his head to the powder and sniffs, vacuuming up snorts of cocaine. When he straightens his spine, wiping the end of his nose, I try to push him back, but he immediately slams me back down, widening his stance behind me, holding me in place.

I can feel him where I don’t want to. The unwanted push of his groin into my arse making me flinch. “Please.” I try to grab for air, but my face is pressed down just like last time.

It’s hard not to panic when you can’t breathe. Every sense tells you to open your lungs. To suck in the air you crave. I begin to spiral. My hands begins to grab and slap at the wood as the back of my head is held still. I can’t stop it. Can’t stop the burning in my lungs.

Spluttering, I gasp and I choke as I take a breath full of the drugs, swallowing powdery mouthfuls. I feel the tickle and the scratch as it coaxes its way to the back of my throat, making me cough. He won’t let me up. Hewon’t let me breathe normally until I go limp.

Slapping with frenzied hands, I try my hardest to move and get free. But it’s no use. His hold is too hard. His hand too heavy. There’s a buzzing in my veins already. The effects of the drugs already kicking in. All I can see is the two blue lines on the test. The dream I had of the little boy and his toy duck. Will he be safe if I’m high? I’ve never intentionally been high, not on cocaine. I’m scared. Crazed. Then I feel a pull as the lack of oxygen saps my consciousness away from me.

I go limp. My muscles relax. And I see black. Black, dotted with tiny stars.

Matthew lets me go, and I crash to the floor, my body slumped against one of the table legs. I can’t see straight. Can’t hear the words being said to me. I don’t even register the hand that slaps the side of my face, knocking me flat to the floor.

It stings, but I don’t feel it like I should. It burns, but not nearly as much as I expected it to. My drowsy eyes roll back and forth, trying to cling onto reality, seeing a faint image of Matthewbefore I see black. He snorts more coke, then comes back to me, kneeling on the floor and slamming his face to mine.

Eyes closed; my body doesn’t move. Doesn’t even react when I realise he’s trying to kiss me, his wet lips sloppily sliding over my mouth. I’d recoil if I could. The smell of weed and the taste of stale beer on his lips invades my senses, making me want to throw up. I’m slapped again, the shock of the jarring of my head, making me roll my eyes open.

He’s watching me. Studying me. Again, I don’t hear him when he speaks, I only see the tightening of his face before he tries to kiss me again, his lips hitting mine.

Black.

Then he’s gone. The smell is gone.

I see light when I draw my eyes open, followed by the sound of a thud and the shrill wail of a man’s cry. Matthew’s cry?

Black.

I listen, hearing him beg. Then silence.

Heavy hands grab me and drag me to sit up. I try with all my might to get my eyes open, but I can’t. My head hangs low, my chin dropped to my chest. Breathing becomes difficult. Air doesn’t want to go in. Then I’m convulsing, my body shaking, tears filling my eyes. I cough, choking as something slidesin my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I’m swung forward, trying to breathe, trying not to swallow as bile rises and the contents of my stomach projects from my mouth. Relief.

“One more.”

My mouth is prised open again, and I heave, retching and spluttering as my jaw’s held tight. I vomit with a shake, grabbling at the arms holding me, my body weak, unable to take anymore.

“Mollie!”

Sagging into a man’s arms, I’m held as I catch my breath, my saliva streaming from my mouth, my nose running.

“Mollie can you hear me? Fuck, I don’t know what he’s given her.”

My hearing’s dulled, but I manage to turn my head and look up at the man who’s holding me steady. “De,” I try to swallow, my throat on fire.

“Get her up.”

There’s someone else here.

“You take her. I’ve got this,” Dean says.

I feel arms scoop me up, and I sag into the man’s body, wincing as my cheek presses to his chest. I allow my eyes to close as he begins moving, his pace fast, his heavy steps pounding against the ground.

“Need you to hold onto me,” he says, swinging around looking behind him but still moving.

Dragging my head up, I see Rocco. “Where’s Travis?” I croak, wrapping my arms around his neck as best I can, trying to do as he says, one of my wrists in blazing agony. Broken?

Rocco doesn’t answer, instead he carries me outside to where I left my car as people begin flooding from Matthew’s property.