Page 31 of Little Sunshine

Pain suddenly exploded from the side of my face, the force knocking me against the building so hard, I saw stars.

I scrambled, turning in time to watch his fist fly at my face again. The back of my head hit the brick, and he chose right then to finally move away.

I dropped.

By the time my dazed brain communicated the need to catch myself, it was too late. My sluggish arms were lined with lead, and they couldn’t move fast enough to break my fall.

Shooting pain radiated up my spine from my tailbone, knocking the wind out of me. What little breath I had was lost when a hard kick connected with my exposed stomach. I soundlessly cried out as preservation instinct overcame the shock, and I curled into myself.

It didn’t do any good.

Gripping my hair, the monster pulled my head back. “What the fuck did you just call me?” He used his stinging grip on my hair to keep me in place so he could punch me again.

God.

I am so stupid.

Being there alone.

Not staying alert.

Mouthing off.

I’d made a lot of mistakes, and with fear and pain clouding my brain, maybe I was continuing to make them. But his anger was better than the alternative, so I let my emotions run the show and my mouth.

Shaking off the mental fog, I glared up at him. It wasn’t hard to do since my eye was already swelling. “If you come near me with that dehydrated Vienna sausage you call a dick, I’ll bite it off.”

He backhanded me so hard, blood sprayed from my mouth. I wasn’t sure if it was a busted lip or something more. The sharp, metallic taste coated my tongue, and more droplets dripped down my chin.

His free hand went into his pocket before pulling something free. With a flick of his wrist, a sharp blade clicked free.

Oh fuck.

“Help me get her up,” he bit out, pointing that deadly blade at the coward and then me.

Assuming I was subdued enough by the punches, the viselike grip on my hair, and the threat of the knife, the coward must’ve deemed it safe to approach.

He was wrong.

When he grabbed my foot, I kicked out, catching him right in the jaw.

“Bitch,” he bit out, stomping my stomach at the same time the asshole shook me.

Violently.

Like he was trying to snap my head off my neck.

Even if I wanted to keep fighting against their hands, I couldn’t. My limbs refused to move. Words wouldn’t form, no matter how badly I wanted to shout and insult and plead.

No more screams.

No more kicks.

No tears.

I had to channel every drop of energy into fighting against the black edges that threatened to push in.

Don’t pass out.

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