Page 58 of Property of Camo

“Toad,” Clark tries again and my stomach gets tight with worry.

“Shit, come on, let’s get back inside. I can call Tate.” We turn on our heels but we do not get far.

Clark is dragged from me, and I scream, seeing four men all dressed in black, their faces covered bar their eyes.

“Payback is a bitch, for not listening,” one says before a pain I have never felt before hits me in the face.

The hits keep coming.

I shield my face as much as I can but their hits are all over my body. A boot connects with my ribs and I scream out in pain.Blood fills my mouth, as I cry and try to protect my body as much as I can.

My bag is ripped from my body, my zipped hoodie tugged open, and I feel a hand grip my breast hard, making me scream, which makes them laugh louder. Every inch of me hurts, but I know this is not over yet, they plan to hurt me more.

“Tits for days. Such a shame.”

I hear grunting, and thuds, along with Clark calling my name. Blood rushes through my ears, muting a lot of the noise.

The men are speaking but I cannot make out what they are saying, as everything is muffled.

A fresh wave of pain crashes through me, then I’m lifted off the ground—my body suddenly weightless—before I slam hard into a pillar. My screams fill the air around us, mixed with heavy breathing and grunting.

“Mouthy cunts who stick their noses into other people’s business need to shut up. Maybe now you know that we mean fucking business. Stay the fuck away from the boy.”

“Fire is going, man. Let’s get the fuck out of here,” someone calls.

“Skyla.” I hear a gargled call from Clark.

He calls me again, but his voice cuts off midway when a big thud sounds before my friend goes quiet.

I scream his name, making the men laugh.

“They will burn with the building, man. Let’s go. The cops will think it was electrical.”

“You hear that, bitch? You are going to die tonight.” He laughs.

My body deflates as his words sink in. No one is coming to help us.

I pry my eyes open, blood seeping into one of them as I watch black booted feet and legs leave through the main door. As one passes, they give Clark one more kick to the head.

His head snaps back and I swear I hear a crack. I scream his name, but get no reply.

Needing to move, I drag my body across the floor, ignoring the mess and pushing down my pain. Reaching Clark, I roll him onto his back, my gaze moving over his face, seeing the blood.

So much blood.

Clark is almost unrecognizable.

“Oh, Clark. I am so sorry.” I sob.

My shaking hands hover over his face, too scared to touch him. I check that he is breathing, and I sigh in relief feeling that he has a pulse.

I locate his phone in the front pocket of his pants and call Camo.

“Clark?” His voice makes me sigh.

“Camo,” I force out, suddenly feeling lightheaded.

“Skyla? Baby, what happened?”

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