Wild Girl (Aston Creek High 3)

What is it doing in Slade’s truck? It should be under my pillow.

As the water rises to the bottom of my chin, I flick out the blade faster than I’ve ever done it before. I start slicing furiously but the belt won’t break. The knife is blunt.

I keep trying over and over again, feeling my panic creeping up on me. It’s too much. I can’t do this.

The water hits my mouth and I have no choice but to take my final breath. With a whoosh, I’m submerged under the dark, murky water.

I try reaching for Slade in my final effort to free myself and as I look over at him through the murky water, I see him releasing his seatbelt. He doesn’t look my way and I desperately reach for him, trying to gain his attention.

“SLADE,” I scream, filling my mouth with water.

He glances down at me through the water and just when I think my fight is over, he smirks. “You’re on your own now, Virago.”

I’ve never heard the word spoken with such venom and I panic as he fades out of sight. “Come back. Come back. I need you.”

I try reaching but he’s gone.

Slade is gone.

Heavy sobs pull at me but I can’t waste what little oxygen I have left. The knife slices over the belt as my fight begins to fade. I do it again and again, slowly wearing it down.

As it finally breaks, I pull myself from the seat and out the smashed windshield, desperately pushing up off the dash and swimming toward the surface.

I’m so close. I’m going to make it.

A restriction tightens around my chest like a rope as I swim furiously, needing to get to the top. I kick my legs harder, giving it my all but I’m pulled back down by the rope.

No. This can’t be happening. I need to breathe.

I’m so close.

I grab at the rope, pulling on it hard only to realize it’s not a rope at all, it’s a snake. The head turns to look at me and the eyes pulse familiar, their dark depths already making so many appearances in my nightmares.

Lucien.

The snake grins, wicked and wrong. “You’re done, princess. You’re mine.”

I shake my head, furiously pulling and trying to get free. I see white dots appearing in my vision.

This is it. I’m going to die.

The snake laughs, tightening its hold around my chest. It hurts so bad.

“It’s okay,” my mother’s soft, welcoming voice says in my head. “Just let go, Skylah. Come to me. It’s going to be okay.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby. It’s time to come home.”

I close my eyes, feeling the pain finally begin to disappear as I give up fighting. Peace settles over me and then finally joy. “Okay, mommy. I’m coming.”

Hands hit my shoulders and I’m shaken awake. “Skylah,” Slade demands. “Wake up, baby. Wake up.”

My eyes spring open and I gasp out into the dark hospital room to find Slade hovered over me. “Oh, thank God,” he sighs, dropping back down to the bed beside me. “You were having a nightmare.”

“I…”

I let out a heavy sigh. That shit felt too real.

I stare up at the ceiling as Slade pulls me back into his chest, stroking his warm fingers up and down my arm as I focus on breathing.

In. out. In. out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. “You kinda freaked me out. You were thrashing around. I was worried you were going to open your stitches.”

I snuggle my face into his chest, wishing I could forget it all, yet I don’t want to as I never want to forget the sound of my mother’s voice calling out to me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I feel him nod in the darkened room and when he sits up to leave, I nearly go into a full-blown panic attack. “Wait here,” he says, looking back at me with a sparkle hitting his eyes and making all my worries fade away. “I’ll be back in two seconds.”

I narrow my eyes at his back as he goes to the door and peeks through, looking up and down the corridor before breaking free and running for his damn life. I laugh to myself, watching him go and realizing I’m all alone, I sit myself up, feeling way too vulnerable laying down.

Pain shoots through my cracked rib and the muscle in my thigh screams for me to stop moving, but I’m done lying down. I’ve been in bed, in the same boring position for the past twenty-four hours. This is killing me.

I try to reach for my sketchpad and curse Slade for putting it so far away. He’s such an ass. For him, it would be as easy as reaching over and grabbing it, but for the rest of the world who have normal-sized arms, it’s not that easy.