Part 13
594 Words
THIRTEEN
Dark – Chris – Falling – Card – Headache
"Oh s**t! You're better than I thought."
I felt my body falling – but I didn't hit the ground. His arms tightened around my back, pressing my face against something soft. The knife slipped from my fingers as I tried to stop him from smothering me.
The impact with the floor jolted me, but it was softer than I expected. The restraining arm released me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the dizziness to fade. I needed to fight. I knew what I was lying on and it wasn't good.
I almost whimpered in fright as I felt the foam mattress depress beneath his weight, not far from me. I slid my hand carefully into my pocket for the card, desperate for another blade to replace the one I'd stabbed into the mattress instead of him.
One hand at my shoulder, another on my thigh stopped me dead. I froze in fear.
"One, two..." he murmured.
What about three? What happens on three? I wanted to scream, biting down so I didn't make a sound.
With an ease that suggested plenty of practise moving unconscious people, he rolled me over onto my back. I shoved my hand deeper into my pocket, fishing for a weapon.
If only I could see to use it.
My head pounded its own rhythm as his fingers crept beneath my neck. I could feel the heat of him close beside me, leaning over me. The ache intensified as he lifted my head.
I couldn't see, but I sure could spit. "If you're going to try to force me to give you a blow job, I'll bite your chipolata of a c**k right off." I had the card out of my pocket and I was ready to stab him with the corkscrew if I could pull it out.
He moved away, to my considerable satisfaction. I felt his weight ease off the mattress and breathed again. I'd found the edge of the scissors.
He laughed softly as his hand closed over both my fingers and the Swiss Card. "Fair warning. You won't need that against me. Put it away. You might need it later."
He clicked on a torch, searching for something. I blinked, trying to focus. My heart sank as I realised he'd shut the door behind him. I prayed it wasn't locked.
"Here. Don't lose this." He took the card from my hand and slid the knife back in. "Good thing you stabbed the mattress and not me."
"Why?" I spat back, shoving the card back in my pocket.
"I can't help you if I'm dead or dying. Here. It's juice." He pushed a plastic bottle into my hand.
I opened the bottle, turning my head to the side to drink so I didn't bring on the dizziness again. My mouth tasted horrible and I tried to swish away all traces of drugs or blood before I swallowed.
Silently, he waited.
When I'd lubricated my throat enough, I interrupted his reverie. "Why would you help me?" I struggled to sit up.
He dropped the torch on the floor, lifting both hands to my chest, stopping just before he touched me. Like he wanted to push me down again, but he didn't dare. "No hurry. Lie down as long as you need to, until you recover. He gave you a second dose of chloroform in the car, so you were under for a while."
"You want me lying down so you can r**e me. I heard you talking." I glared at him, hoping he could see my malice in the dim light. "You stay away from me or I'll use the knife on you."
- Writer
