"I swear to fuck, she’s suicidal," Ava whispers, then yells, “wait for me, Ces!”

No, no…

You don’t spare a glance at who you’re left with and try to follow after them—girls standing up for girls and all that. Truth is, you’d rather face Jeremy than his psychotic friend.

Your head crashes into a wall of muscles, and you step backward in shock.

A hand wraps around your elbow, seemingly gentle yet anything but. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You try to pull your elbow free, but he only tightens his hold as a warning.

Your gaze strays sideways, hoping to catch the attention of someone familiar, but all the faces have turned blurry, featureless.

“It’s useless to find refuge in anyone but me, baby.”

“Screw you. I’m not your baby.”

His free hand reaches for you, and you freeze, thinking he’ll choke you again.

Images of him sneaking into your nightmare, strangling you, then doing unspeakable things crash down. You don’t want to think about your state when you woke up or where your hand was.

It’s like that time you stroked your neck while staring at that damn painting you somehow couldn’t vandalize.

But now his fingers seep into your hair—gently, lovingly.

“Did I mention that your fight is adorable? The way your beautiful eyes war with both fear and determination is a turn-on. I wonder if this is the look I’ll see when you’re writhing underneath me as I stuff you with my co-ck."