FORTY-FIVE - BEFORE

Now conscious, I began to struggle, but this only sparked sick new determination in Josh.

His fingers locked around my wrists like steel handcuffs, and once my arms were pinned above my head I had no real hope of fighting back. The sheer weight difference between us kept my back flat against the mattress. That left me with one other option—but Josh was a step ahead of my mixed-up mind, and clamped his hand harder over my mouth so there was no danger of any sound escaping.

My head was still swimming; the room throbbed and every sound was both loud and distorted, like I was being held underwater. I couldn't focus long enough to meet Josh's eye or read the expression on his face. I was aware of his movements, though, and once he'd shifted position to pin me down with just his body weight it freed the hand on my wrists for something else.

I'd chosen to wear a skirt tonight: it was barely even a challenge.

With the little strength I could find, I squirmed and writhed, trying to push him away. But I could already feel the elastic of my underwear around my knees. It was weird how, even when barely conscious, I could remember exactly what pair I was wearing. My everyday, flesh-colored panties. Comfortable. Full coverage. Straight from a multi-pack.

Josh had laughed at them, once.

From then on I made sure not to wear them when I stayed over.

By this point, my energy was waning, and part of me was tempted to give into the coaxing of a fresh wave of unconsciousness. At least if I blacked out again it would only be my body that had to endure this. Tears were already leaking from my eyes, and I was cursing myself for getting this so wrong. For ending up like this. For letting my guard down. For being taken in by the wrong guy.

No.

Wait.

What was I thinking? Hanna's face flashed across my mind, her stern expression as clear as day. This wasn't my fault—and she would probably slap me if she knew that thought had crossed my mind for even a second. This wasn't some misguided choice on my part. Not a personal failure, nor a moment of carelessness that came with teachable consequences. Even as the fighting strength drained from my muscles, and it became increasingly hard to do anything but lay still against the mattress, there was security in the knowledge that I could never be to blame.

And maybe that's what spurred it on. The sudden clarity to my vision, and the sense of momentary distraction as Josh fumbled with the zipper on his jeans. Whatever it was, something made me seize the opportunity and push him sideways, rolling both of us over until I was on top and in control.

The scuffle disoriented him, and I used the few spare seconds to leap up from the bed and dash toward the door. My underwear drooped down my legs, threatening to trip me up, so I stepped out of it and left it behind. There wasn't time to look back. All that mattered was getting out of there as quickly as possible, and being far enough ahead when Josh inevitably came to follow.

Whether it was the adrenaline or a substance beginning to wear off, I wasn't sure, but I'd at least gained a better grip on consciousness. An unfamiliar hallway opened up before me; I stumbled across the laminate and threw myself toward what looked like a front door. I was fumbling with the handle when I heard the first signs of movement from behind. Josh was obviously hot on my tail, but that didn't matter.

I wasn't physically strong enough to take him on, but I had other options.

All I had to do was get somewhere safer, more public.

Then he couldn't do what I knew he wanted to.

For a building that had been pulsing with life just hours ago, it was now eerily empty. In the corridor the other apartments were concealed behind closed doors; if the party continued inside, it was much more subdued. But for the first time in my life I didn't want it all to be over. I needed noise and bustle—groups of people that could swallow me up and hide me away. Right now emptiness and silence spelled danger.

The elevator was obviously a no-go, so I went for the door to the fire escape which opened up to a dingy concrete stairwell. Each step was like a cliff and the fall would've been brutal: a far closer prospect since I still felt unsteady on my feet. My boots clattered noisily as I went down and down and down—and though I didn't dare glance back, I could hear the terrifying echo of Josh not far behind.

He wasn't going to give up.

The realization stuck in my throat like the urge to vomit. I hadn't expected him to follow me beyond the front door of the apartment. But perhaps he could sense it in me: I'd seen the monster with my own eyes, and it wasn't something I could deal with on my own. No amount of rational explaining or gentle persuasion could turn back the clock.

I needed to tell someone as soon as possible.

And Josh knew that—so he would do everything in his power to stop me.

Tearing out of the main doors of the apartment block, the bitter air stung my face and buried deep into my lungs, but I didn't let myself slow down. The vital thing was to keep moving, even if I didn't have a clear idea of where I was heading. Back to campus? Yes—that had to be my best option. Unfamiliar streets put me at a disadvantage, and on college grounds there was a chance that night-owl students or campus security would be roaming. All it would take was for one person to spot me. Then this could all be over.

Luckily, we were close enough to campus for street signs to point me in the right direction, and I tore across the final crosswalk and through the north gate before my body began to protest. I'd already run further than my fitness would normally permit, and now I was reaching the limits of adrenaline too. I felt my steps slowing. Josh was closing in and there was no sign yet of anybody else. We were on the edge of campus, with the quad and twenty-four-hour library and late-night convenience store just out of reach. There was still an entire lake between us and them.

"Morgan!"

His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and deadly. It was the first time he'd called out; this place was deserted enough for him to risk it. I still didn't look back. But my strength was flagging and it was only a matter of time before Josh closed the length of pavement between us. In one last ditch attempt to break away, I took an abrupt turn off the path and let my feet beat down on soft earth. Through the trees, where shadows could obscure me, and I could escape not through speed but by creating my own maze.

But coming off the path meant uneven ground, and through my exhaustion and general daze I was slow to see it coming. My foot collided with a sprawling tree root—then momentum kept my top half going until I slammed into the ground chest first.

Air rushed out of my lungs, pain searing across my ribcage, but I still scrambled to my feet a beat later. It wasn't quick enough. When I spun back round, Josh's footsteps had petered out and he'd come to a stop about five yards away.

We both froze.

Eyes locked on each other like a hunter and his prey.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I said, through heaving breaths, because anything felt safer than silence then.

Onto his face crept a smirk.

"Running didn't get you as far as you thought, huh?" He cocked his head to the side in mock sympathy. "Shame."

"What are you going to do, Josh?" I asked, throwing my arms out to the side. I wasn't sure where the confidence came from. Perhaps the naïve belief that if I raised my voice and stood my ground, it would deter the hunter from coming closer. "You've got me now. What next?"

I hoped this would stump him, but the smirk wasn't going anywhere.

"I'll do whatever it takes."

He took a step toward me; instinct had me match him with a backward move of my own. It felt more important than ever to keep him talking. "That's conveniently vague. Whatever it takes to what?"

"You were going to tell someone."

My heart missed a beat. "No, I wasn't."

"Give it a rest, Morgan. You've never done that much exercise in your life—nor had such a desperate look on your face. That's not the behavior of a girl heading quietly home to bed."

"Is that surprising? You assaulted me."

Josh's bark of laughter made me jump. "Really? That's what we're calling being drunk and horny these days?"

"I am not drunk," I said, though it came out so frantic and strangled that I could've fooled anyone. In that moment, I knew I should've been more scared, but there was something about his thinly veiled amusement—as he stood there watching me make a spectacle of myself—that made me angry enough not to care. "You put something in my drink, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You put something in my drink, and you tried to have sex with me while I was unconscious."

"Can you blame me? It's the only chance of getting something out of you these days." He stopped short of rolling his eyes. "You can see it doesn't look great for you, though, can't you? Plenty of people saw you stumbling around like a high-school sophomore at their first party. It was pretty embarrassing, actually. Good thing they don't know about all the filthy things you whispered in my ear before you dragged me into that bedroom."

"That didn't happen."

"How do you know?" he asked, staring straight at me. "You can't even remember."

That stopped me in my tracks. As I held Josh's gaze, I knew the fear in my eyes gave me away; his growing smirk revealed he had me exactly where he wanted.

"The thing is, Morgan," he said, taking another step closer, "I'd like to put this behind us and pretend it never happened, but I don't know if I can trust you. Not after your little escape act."

I tried to move back too, but my heel caught on a rock and I stumbled, leaving my arms flailing in an effort to steady myself. When I glanced over my shoulder, I realized there were only a few yards of earth behind me: the run had brought us a clearing in the trees that opened up onto a distant corner of the campus lake. I hadn't realized it until now, but Josh truly had me cornered.

That was when things got more desperate.

"Wait," I said, my voice tinged by panic. "That was a mistake. I wasn't thinking—but I am now. I won't say anything. To anyone."

"Oh, Morgan." Josh shook his head, almost pitying. "Maybe that's true, but as I'm sure you realize... I just can't take the risk."

Another step closer. There was nowhere to turn; the ground behind me softened and sloped until sodden earth slipped under murky water. If I were a better swimmer, maybe I'd have stood a chance—but in my current state of exhaustion I knew I'd sink faster than a rock. My only shot was ahead. A slim chance of success, but a chance all the same.

For one second longer I stared at Josh. Then I made a break for it.

As I darted to my right, the abrupt movement caught him off guard and gave me a beat's head start—long enough to slip past the reach of his outstretched arm and put distance between us again.

At least that was how it should have gone.

Unfortunately, my mental calculations were ambitious, failing to take into account my weakened muscles and already-racing heart. The start was slow and sluggish. My mind moved before my body found the energy, and the preemptive twitch before my feet went anywhere gave my advantage away on a platter. He leapt sideways, throwing an arm out toward me. And when his fingers found my wrist they clamped down harder than ever.

He yanked me back so violently I thought my shoulder might come out of its socket.

"See, this is exactly it, Morgan," he growled. "Do you see why I can't trust you?"

"Stop." I tried to pull away, but he gripped my arm with all his might, turning his nails inward so they almost broke the skin. "Please. Don't hurt me."

"Please. Don't hurt me," he mocked. "Do you hear how pathetic you sound?"

"Why are you doing this? I've done nothing to you."

"No." He paused, suddenly, like this made him think. "You're right, you haven't. But it doesn't matter now. It's too late."

Our gazes locked, and what I saw there sent a chill down my spine. His brown eyes had gone cold, darkened to a shade of almost black; any trace of emotion or hint of remorse had disappeared into the abyss. There was simply nothing left. He was looking at me like he barely recognized me anymore, and that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Something came over me then—a sense that time was running out, perhaps—and I acted before I could think. My hands were tied, but my legs weren't. I brought my knee up with all the force I could and hoped for good aim.

It was good enough.

Josh let out a startled groan and doubled over, one hand immediately flying to his aching crotch. I pulled away at the same time, hoping my wrists would slip through his fingers—but he realized what I was doing and kept hold of one.

"You little—"

I struggled against his grip, but this only served to make him angrier. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt and used the fabric to pull me closer. That was when I realized we were moving: he was walking me back, one step at a time, the two of us drawing closer to the water's edge.

Panic stabbed my chest. He was going to push me in.

It all switched then; while things had been urgent before, it was nothing compared to the heightened senses and razor-sharp focus of realizing I was fighting for my life. We scrambled for control while I tried to counter the backward force as best I could. However, with one arm circled around my back, his hold on me was secure and my range of movement was limited. It wasn't like I could overpower him with sheer force, either. He was bigger, stronger, sturdier—and in that moment he probably also thought he had more to lose.

I can't fight this.

The thought entered my head for several seconds, and I began considering whether it was easier just to let it happen. But then my boot sunk into water and a frigid dampness seeped into my jeans and a stronger survival instinct kicked in.

A new strategy: I stopped trying to bat him away and instead let him grip onto me. He tensed with triumph, thinking he had the upper hand. But when he shuffled forward and was one move away from shoving me over the edge, I stuck out my foot just where he needed to place his.

He stumbled, letting go of me to throw his arms out for balance. It was a simple move, a cheap shot really—but the force he'd intended for me had enough momentum to topple him forward. I ducked out of the way just in time to see him slam chest first into the water.

He was supposed to recover easily, pull himself onto the back and come after me within seconds. That was why I turned my back and started running again. But as time went by and there was no movement behind me—no break in the surface or the splash of frantic swimming—it was enough to tug my feet into slowing down. Even though it went against my every instinct, I eventually came to a stop and glanced over my shoulder.

The water had swallowed Josh up; he was nowhere to be seen. My heart hammered inside my chest. Not just from exertion, but also the sheer descending terror that came with a creeping realization.

Surely he wasn't...

Was he—?

Out of nowhere, a hand broke the surface. And then suddenly he was spluttering and splashing and frenziedly treading water while it lapped up over his face. He definitely wasn't coming after me; if anything, he was struggling to stay afloat. Maybe the brutal landing and the ice-water shock had winded him. Maybe all this time he'd never been able to swim, and it was one of many things I hadn't known about him. Or maybe it was a trap.

"Morgan!"

The panicked voice reached me like an icy hand on my shoulder. I actually felt the shiver run the full length of my spine.

His head dunked under the water and then bobbed up again. "Please—help—"

I stood, paralyzed. My muscles had locked in place; I couldn't have moved even if my mind had the faintest idea what to do. This could be a trap. That was the only thing that kept playing over and over, looping in my head like a scratched record. Because he was more than capable of putting on this kind of display. Reeling me in with an Oscar-worthy performance until I was too close and it was too late.

Once bitten, twice shy.

It went against some kind of primal nature to turn my back, wiping him from my line of sight. But I forced myself to do it. And with every step it became easier, like the further away from the lake I went, the less this had to do with me and the more it was a force of nature. What if, like much of tonight, it wasn't for me to be in control? What if I was supposed to sit back and let things unfold? If the worst came to the worst and the water did end up claiming him, perhaps it was restoration of some kind of natural balance. Perhaps that was simply how things were supposed to be.

As I continued walking away, back through the trees and in the direction the brighter lights of main campus, lost in a kind of numb haze that shielded me from Josh's lingering screams, it was this small thought that brought me comfort.

In fact, it also brought the slightest of smilesto one corner of my mouth, before that was wiped away with a gust of wind.

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And there we have it: part two of the mystery uncovered. Could you say that Morgan killed Josh? Perhaps, or maybe she just didn't save him...

Thank you SO MUCH for your comments on the previous chapter! I was so happy to see there was a good mix of people who guessed the plot twist, those who suspected the plot twist but kept talking themselves out of it, and those who didn't see it coming at all. With such a big build up and lots of tiny details, that's pretty much the best outcome I could've hoped for.

So how about THIS one? Saw it coming? Had completely the wrong end of the stick? Drop a note in the comments so I can find out!

Until next time...

- Leigh