Page 29 of Room Twenty-Seven: Theirs to Punish

I snicker. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little.” He pours me a glass of water without my having to ask, and I gulp it greedily. The cold is a welcome shock to my system. It shakes me out of the worst of my exhausted brain fog.

“I guess it must come with the job,” I muse. “Identifying people who need somebody to talk to.”

“Are you kidding? Most of the time people come in and dump their problems on me without me ever saying a word. Especially early in the night like this, before it gets so loud you can't hear anything but music.”

“You've probably heard it all.”

“Nothing surprises me.”

Something tells me he would be surprised if he heard my story.

He props his folded arms on the bar and flashes a sympathetic smile. “So, come on. Fess up. What's got you feeling down tonight?”

“I'm really not in any place to talk about it.”

“Can I get you an actual drink while you wait?”

“I don't think so. The cab will be here soon, right?” He looks unhappy, even disappointed, and I'm starting to think this wasn't worth it. I'm glad he called me a cab, but not if it means being forced into sharing my life story.

I manage an awkward smile as I slide off the stool. My feet aren't happy about being put to use again, but I'll have to deal with it. “I’ll wait outside. Thank you.”

“Wait a second.” He stops me before I can walk out. “They'll pick you up in the alley around back. That's usually where they do it. Otherwise, you risk somebody out on the street grabbing them first.”

I'm too tired to do anything but thank him. After everything I've been through tonight, I don't think I could handle watching somebody else get into my cab. That might be what finally breaks me.

“Here. I'll show you.” He waves me on, signaling for me to follow him. I hesitate for a second, sizing up the situation, but he looks and seems like a nice guy. He's probably seen countless girls like me over the years. I follow him through a door leading to the back of the building.

And right away, I know it was a bad idea. For one thing, it's pitch black, without even an overhead light. Icy fear skitters down my spine. I have to get out of here. This is a mistake.

But there's no time to scurry back inside before an arm wraps around my waist, pulling me deeper into the darkness. “No! Stop!” I manage to scream before a hand covers my mouth. He lifts me off my feet, and I kick as hard as I can, but even when I make contact with his legs, he doesn't let go.

He grunts in my ear, barely audible over the pounding of my heart and my muffled shrieks. “Bitch!” he grunts when I bite his hand. He shoves me against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of me and holds me in place with his body while one hand works its way under my dress.

It's like he’s unleashed an animal in me. Pure, unfiltered panic floods my system, and I scream as loud and as long as I can, fighting with every ounce of my strength. The brick wall scratches at my skin and my dress, but I care more about the erection digging into my ass and the frantic grunts of the man trying to fuck me.

My elbow makes contact with his stomach, and he groans before easing back just enough that I can lunge for the door and tumble through it, tearing my way through the bar in tears. I don't hear anything but the pounding of my heart and my sharp, ragged breaths as I run. I don't know where I'm going or how to get there. I only know I have to get far away.

After a couple of blocks, I see light up ahead, so I head in that direction, hoping against hope I'll find my salvation there. There are people, there's music, and I know where I am now. I'm only a few blocks from home. Relief floods my system and almost takes my legs out from under me. I'm weak with relief and the knowledge of my very close call. I have to get home. I have to lock the door and hide from the world.

By the time I turn the last corner, I can barely walk. I'm exhausted, my legs are jelly, and my feet are swollen. But somehow, I find the strength to take another step, then another.

And like a mirage in the middle of the desert, someone familiar waits outside my building. Someone who pushes himself off the wall when he sees me stumbling down the street.

Niklas. A broken sob tears itself from my chest. How did I ever consider running away from him when he’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen?

I find the strength to keep going, to run for him, to run toward my salvation. I'm safe, finally. I'm home.

14

Niklas

I have never felt soconflicted in my life. I want to shake her for leaving, yell at her for not answering her phone, and then lock her up so she can never leave us again.

But I also want to wrap her in a blanket and hold her all night and promise her that everything will be okay. I want her happy, safe, and most of all, I want her to be mine… no,ours.

She buries her face into my chest, her slender arms wrapping around my torso, holding me as if I was her life raft in the middle of the open sea. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs into my sweater, her voice breaking at the end.

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