Page 113 of Like A Moth To A Flame

I gagged at the taste of stale alcohol and bitter cigarettes.

I struggled to pull free, but he was too strong.

“Let me go!” I screamed, but my words were lost in the wind that swept through the open window.

He finally released me, but only to grab me once more, his hand gripping my wrists, pinning them together above my head. He forced me against the passenger’s side window, holding me there so hard that it hurt, and when I twisted my wrists, fighting to pull away, they jerked painfully, and I whimpered.

“You think you can tease me like a whore and not get what’s comin’ to ya?” he asked, his free hand coming around to slap me hard across the face, until my skin burned hot and I tasted blood in my mouth.

“Fuck you!” I screamed, and he slapped me again.

I gathered the blood that lay on my tongue and shot forward, launching a ball of saliva and gore smack dab into the middle of his face.

He hit me again, hard on the side of the head. This time, I saw stars dancing in and out of the darkness that pulsed at the corners of my vision.

I blinked, hard, fighting away the pull of unconsciousness, when a movement from the shadows caught my eye. Behind him, I saw a figure materialize out of the cornstalks, stalking toward the truck, something long and glinting clutched in their hand.

I knew those wide shoulders. I recognized that same black ski mask. The same one I’d seen on the stairs that night.

I could hear the sound of crickets and the rustling of leaves, but now it all seemed so distant and unimportant. My heart was pounding like a war drum, and all I could do was watch as my stalker approached. When he stepped up to the side of the truck, the moonlight caught on what he held in his hands, and as he tore the door of the truck open, and ripped Stephen out of the cab, I realized what he held—a bat.

With a savage roar, my savior raised the bat high over his head and swung it with a force that shattered the silence of the night. The first blow landed hard on Stephen’s right knee, and he crumpled to the ground, an ear-piercing scream echoing on the dark, empty road.

He swung again, this time drilling the bat into his ribs, and I heard them snap with a sickening crack that echoed around me, over and over again.

“Stop it!” I screamed, my breath tearing in and out of my lungs. “Stop! You’re gonna kill him!”

He dropped the bat, stepping over it as he dropped to his knees, looming over Stephen, gasping and groaning in pain in the tufted grass. His gloved hand twisted in the front of his flannel shirt and pulled him up, staring into his eyes with an intensity that I’d only seen between predator and prey.

He pulled back his fist, and I forced myself to look away, bile and fear twisting and writhing inside of me.

I heard him connect—once, twice, again.

And again.

I heard another stomach-churning crack, and when Stephen screamed again, it was garbled and full of pain.

I cowered in the corner of the seat, my trembling hands coming up to press into my ears, and the world around me fell to silence.

This was my fault.

It was my fault.

I caused this.

I caused all of this.

Tears flooded from my eyes, laying salted lines down my face as I fought to pull in a breath, my chest tight and aching. The next thing I knew, I felt the slamming of the door and the vibration of the engine roaring to life. Shaking, I pulled my hands down from my ears and dropped them into my lap.

Just like I knew he would be, my stalker sat behind the wheel, anger flaring in his eyes as he looked over at me, slamming the truck into drive and pulling onto the road. He wore the same brown leather jacket he always did, the moth tattoo on his hand standingout across his skin as his shaking fist gripped the wheel. I could see blood splattered across the back of his knuckles, melding with the ink.

“I’m taking you home,” he sneered. “You need to go upstairs and take a shower. Wash hisfilthoff of you.”

I sat in stunned silence, staring at him as he whipped the truck around, and headed back the way we came, the engine roaring like a beast in the night.

“I told you what would happen, Vanessa,” he said simply.

“You killed him?” I asked, my voice shaking.

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