Page 156 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“NO! Jackson,no!”
“But you’ll have to stay here.”
“No!” I screamed when he dropped his other hand and wrapped it in my hair.
“You were with him last night, weren’t you?” He pulled on my hair until I squeaked. “Your hair’s still wet, babe.”
“I—”
But then he was dragging me, literally, by my hair. Ripping at the strands until my scalp burned, and I was sure he’d uproot whole chunks. Forcing me through the bedroom and into the bathroom.
“JACKSON STOP!” I screamed. Kicked. Bit at his hand—and got rewarded with a hair twist that had me seeing stars.
“I need you to stay here for a few hours, babe. That’s it.”
“NO!”
“You’ll probably do or say anything to protect him, and I can’t have that. It’ll be okay, Pippi.”
This said as he threw me, bodily, into the bathroom.
I staggered, crashed into the sink counter, cried when the edge of it drilled a bruise into my hip, and howledwhen Jackson slammed the door shut.
“Jackson! You selfish, stupid—” I wrenched the handle. It didn’t move. There was scuffling from the other side as Jackson braced something against it.
“LET ME OUT!” I slammed my shoulder against the door, cursing when pain shot down my arm.
The door didn’t budge.
I whirled, scanning the bathroom. There were no windows.Nothing.Only one way in or out.
And that way had been barricaded.
Panic fizzed inside my gut,shooting a trickle of citrusy bile into my mouth.
I pounded at the door until my knuckles bled and left red smudges over the embossed wood and screamed until my voice mangledmy throat, until all the sound I could manage was a wet rasp.
“A surefire way to get rid of a spell like this is to get rid of the source.”Jackson had said.
I walked, pacing the area between the sink and the shower, my breath coming out in strained wheezes.
Jackson wouldn’t—hecouldn’thurt Alistair.
Hecouldn’t.
Not by himself. Not without a boat, or a harpoon, or some big piece of weaponry.
Right?
Right?
So why did I have this awful, sinking, nauseating feeling that he was going to do something? And that poor Alistair was going to get hurt?ken
“Ouch!” I cried when I drilled my knee into the porcelain rim of the toilet.
Stupid.
Pain savaged my kneecap and rocketed up my thigh to brutalize my hip.
