Page 6 of Cam Girl

I turn over and try to go back to sleep.

Until it comes again, louder this time.

My heart lodges upward, cut the air off from my lungs. Sitting up, I stare into the permanent gloom, the street lights outside casting murky shadows.

Somewhere in the distance a car horn rips through the night but it isn’t nearly as loud as the sound of the metal chain on my door snapping.

Chapter 2

Gilli

I’m gonna die.

I’m a single twenty-year-old living alone. I’m not suicidal, no matter how many risks I take.

I’m no stranger to this kind of shit, either. People used to break into my family’s mobile home occasionally, and even at a young age, my sisters and I banded together and ended up confronting what usually turned out to be a drunk in the wrong place.

Tonight feels different.

Locks have never stopped the most determined, and apparently whoever is crashing through my front door is extremely determined.

Keeping a close watch on the bedroom door, I blink the dryness away from my eyes and reach beneath the bed. My hand wraps around the familiar wood of a baseball bat and I draw it from out.

My heart races.

Whoever it is hasn’t reached the bedroom yet. My door is closed.A perfectly false safe haven.

I keep my movements light even though my body weighs as much as a ship’s anchor. Sweat beads along my hairline,the tank top and yoga pants clinging to my skin, and the air in the room so heavy every breath becomes a struggle.

I creep to the door.

Hesitating could cost me. If I want to get the jump on whoever is out there, then the element of surprise counts. I have tomakeit count.

I steel myself and suck in a breath that scalds my lungs.Okay, Gillian.Let’s do this.

I’m not planning on dying because some asshole junkie thinks I’ve got good stuff in here. I definitely don’t.

Pulling open the door, I rush down the small hallway, a few steps ahead of my self preservation. My room is at the end and the combination living room and kitchen are ahead.

The front door is shattered like some kind of huge animal clawed through. A shadowy figure is already inside.

The distance might give me away before I reach them.

Caterwauling, I get close and swing the bat through the air. Adrenaline will do strange things to a person. Make you feel like you’re ten feet tall when you don’t even top the charts at 5’ 5”. It makes you feel invincible when you’re breakable.

I swing again and this time the bat connects with the intruder’s elbow. Not the best place to hit but the closest.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment!” I shout.

I swing again, landing a hit against the man’s hip.

He’s most certainly a dude, and tall. One of those big bruisers you kind of expect to hang out with Vin Diesel and talk about cars and motorcycles and family.

He’s got on a leather jacket but the cuffs and the neck can’t hide the lines of tattoos decorating sun wrinkled skin.

The man turns, eyes shadowed in the dim light from the dingy front windows.

“Didn’t you hear me, asshole?” My breath catches.

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