CHAPTER 9
STEPHANIE
“Alright, ma belle. Death it is.”
His silken declaration iced my blood. And my impending death thrummed in my ears the same as the bass of the club banger playing in the distance.
“Time of Our Lives” by Pitbull and Ne-Yo. How ironic. I’d danced to the then fairly new song with my sorority sisters at our last party before winter break. That now felt like years ago.
Strange. I’d never thought of myself as a particularly prideful person. But I tamped down the strong, life-preserving urge to simply submit.
Instead of taking it all back for the relatively simple price of sucking his d**k, I kept my head down with my eyes glued to the shadow my bent form cast across the old wooden floorboards.
I still didn’t quite understand how I’d gotten here. Or why. How had Swamp B
