12

He needs to stop calling me sweetheart or I’ll get a voodoo doll with his face on it and stab it to death. Better yet, I’ll cut it limb from limb. I step back to an arm’s length. If I keep enough distance, he won’t be able to catch me. There’s no way in hell I’ll let him trap me like he did yesterday. This time, I’ll either scream or run. Yup. Sounds like a plan. I gulp, but it lodges in my throat like an external object. No pep talk or courage could erase the memories from yesterday. No pep talk could convince the nerves tingling with suffocating fear that I’ll be fine. My limbs are screaming at me to run. Hide. Never look back. I don’t. Running away from someone who gets off on vulnerability isn’t the smartest thing to do. He’d chase me. Hell. I’m sure the psycho would enjoy it, too. Who’ll come out victorious? Yeah. Not me. So instead of flight, I choose to fight. I lift my chin, calling all the courage I have left. But the moment I meet his gaze, most of that courage falters. The t