“We…we’re just…” She hated the way she stammered, and she ordered herself to get a grip. She wasn’t saving herself here…she was trying to save Jay. She started again. “I asked the officer here”—she glanced up pleadingly at the rock-solid man beside her—“to take me to his car so I could call my uncle. My dad said he’d kill me if I didn’t check in at least once.”
Jay stood his ground. He knew she was lying to him, and Violet wanted to scream at him to just go away. “Here,” he challenged, lifting her purse out to her and eyeing the officer’s hand around the back of her neck. “You can use your cell phone.”
She shook her head, no small feat with the jawlike grip squeezing her. “No, I need to use his phone.” Her voice had taken on a pleading quality, and she begged him with her eyes to believe what she was saying. She was losing her tentative grasp on the situation, and she didn’t want Jay to get hurt. “Please, Jay, just go back to the dance. I’ll be there soon.” Her words broke, and she felt herself struggling to keep her composure. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.
Jay took another calculated step forward, and the punishing fingers dug deeper into Violet’s skin, biting at her fiercely. She winced. She didn’t mean to, but the pain was so intense that it happened reflexively. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
That was all it took. That one nearly imperceptible recoil on her part, and Jay lunged forward. “Get your hands off her!” he yelled, his voice unmistakably filled with rage.
Violet couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t wanted this; she simply wanted to disappear into the night, with this man she knew would kill her, and silently vanish. Forever.
That way no one else would get hurt.
She felt her neck jerk forward as the giant hand released her, shoving her away. If it hadn’t been for the support of her crutches she would have toppled over.
Jay was already swinging his fist wide and hard, hitting the man who’d been holding her captive. His fist connected solidly against the man’s jaw, and the officer’s head snapped hard to the side from the impact. Violet felt a surge of hope blossom within her.
And then it incinerated into white-hot ash.
The officer remained upright, almost insultingly so, as if he’d never been struck at all. He sneered at Jay, his face hideously masked with contempt for the younger man. “You stupid little punk! You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” He approached Jay now.
She knew what he was going to do. She knew that now, like her, Jay had no chance of getting out of there alive.
She reacted without thinking.
Violet watched the arc of the metal crutch swinging widely before thudding sickeningly against the side of the cop’s head. A metal wing nut, holding a long, pinlike bolt, struck his temple, gouging him deeply. He never saw it coming, and the force of the blow carried more weight than she would have thought possible, and she watched as he staggered sideways.
She saw him hit the ground. Everything seemed to happen so fast, and so slowly, all at the same time. The look on his face was that of complete surprise as he struggled to process what had just happened to him. Her ankle throbbed from the leverage she’d used to hit him with the crutch, but somehow she ignored the pain.
She couldn’t think fast enough, but Jay was already grabbing her by the arm and dragging her down the hallway, back in the direction of the dance. But they were so far away, and every time Violet’s foot hit the ground, fresh pain radiated up cripplingly from her ankle to her hip, nearly incapacitating her. He did his best to hold her up, pulling her against him, with his arm anchoring her around her waist, but she was lagging now…slowing him down.
They didn’t look back.
And they didn’t get far before the pain was more than she could bear. She slumped against him. “Jay, go get help,” she whispered sadly. “You’ll get there a lot faster without me.”
“No way.” He pulled her up again, dragging her into his arms so he could carry her.
“Don’t, Jay,” she insisted, crying now and struggling to make him set her down again. “You’ll never make it with me. Please…just go!”
But there was no answer to give…because neither of them was going anywhere.
Violet felt the massive jolt jarring Jay from behind, and then she was falling…flying nearly, through the air. She landed with a dull, skidding thud against the industrial tiling of the school’s vacant hallway. The sounds she heard bouncing off the walls around her were those of defeat.
She glanced up, trying to ignore the bright sting from her injuries. She scrambled to turn around, despite her own physical discomfort, to see what was happening behind her.
She heard it before she could see it.
The soft click. The menacingly quiet sound that made her throat constrict painfully.
Jay, who was lying facedown, had heard it too, and he slowly, warily, rolled over onto his back…careful not to make any sudden movements. He put up his hands cautiously, palms out and fingers spread, letting the huge man standing above him know that he was surrendering. That he was defeated.
The gun was all Violet could see now. It was black, and from her position it looked like it could have been a child’s plastic toy. But Violet knew better. This was not a toy that he expertly handled. And it was pointed directly at Jay.
The man holding it was bleeding; rivulets of oozing red blood trickled down the side of his face. He seemed somewhat off balance, and he staggered a little, probably from the blow he’d taken to the side of his head…but his aim looked perfect. Dead-on.