Page 64 of Cara
The abandoned building we’re using is an endless maze of unfinished rooms and corridors, a place without boundaries. The only sound comes from our bodies colliding, echoing off of the bare walls. My wrist throbs as I grab his arm, unable to fullyblock his force. My knees betray me, and I feel the coolness of the floor, having just enough time to look up before he strikes again.
My mind races, muddled and confused. I wince, holding up my hands in surrender.
As it always does, his fist unclenches before me.
I gasp, offering him meek, yielding eyes from the floor and that submission unravels him enough to focus on how my body is trembling, his features gradually taking on emotion. “Cara.”
I pant heavily, letting him touch my cheek to inspect the damage he’s left. My eyes never leave his face, hell-bent on one thing.
Besting him… by any means necessary.
His thumb gently grazes the swelling, parched eyes darting between my eyes and lips like a lost soul stranded in an endless desert, just now finding deliverance. I imagine he’s wondering if I'm finally accepting him, weak enough to finally give in.
“Cara, I may have been too rough?—”
All of my strength builds in my forearm before I ram my fist into his gut. His lack of anticipation helps as I slip out from under him, unwilling to fail. Fail him. Fail Xavier and everything he has done to keep me alive.
As Isaac clamors for air, I dash beneath the glaring lights, seeking a way to win. Everything here is at my disposal, but there’s not much.
I can’t think. There’s no time. I justdo.
I spot the air vent and spring to rip the metal off its hinges.
He’ll hear.
I peer back before leaping up, mustering my last bit of strength to pull myself into the dusty, cramped space. I quietly close it behind me, holding my breath despite the dizziness it brings, and proceed cautiously, weaving through dust and cobwebs to locate the next open vent.
I wince each time there’s a groan, half expecting him to burst through and find me.
You’re almost there.
He isn’t saying anything. He isn’t taunting me.
That can only mean one thing—he’spissed.
I approach the light of the next vent, stifling a cough.
Glaring through the slender cracks in the vent, I wait… observing, thinking.
My hands travel across my body until my fingers brush against my belt. I crouch, unbuckling it before sliding the leather off my waist. Gripping it firmly, I wait for a glimpse of my mentor.
Seconds feel like minutes.
Minutes feel like hours.
I don’t hear him. Not a sound… then finally, he turns the corner, stalking like a predator. His footsteps make no noise. I glance at the belt, knowing I have only one chance at this. One chance to prove myself.
I bite my lip, grabbing the vent from above as he passes under it. And with one breath to give me strength, I slide through the open space, landing on him.
My limbs surround him with a quickness I didn’t possess before, my hands seizing each side of the belt as I dig the material into his throat. He grunts loudly, trying to speak, but I won’t let him. My teeth grind painfully as my legs tighten around him while he drops to his knees, unwilling to desist.
“Do you yield?” I snarl, overtaken, possessed by something animalistic that lives inside of me.
His fingers jab beneath the leather, but he can’t dislodge it. I’m latched on too tightly. I watch his head bob frantically before I loosen the belt, letting it clamor to the ground, heaving as severely as he is.
I stare down at the floor, gasping.
I did it.
