Rampage ✔

Chapter thirty one

"Quinn," the 911 operator says, "I want you to stay really quiet, okay? Don't let him hear you."

    The floorboards above my head groan under his weight and my hand covers my mouth to stifle any sounds I may make. My eyes flit over to the empty chair and I know he'll see it as soon as he's halfway down the stairs. My gaze lifts to the bag on the table and I realize my mistake immediately. I should have looked through it some more to see if there was a weapon, maybe the same one Zach used on Reece and I when he took me.

    Knowing exactly what I have to do to survive, I whisper into the phone, "Please hurry."

    Then I hang up.

    The operator probably thinks something has happened to me and maybe it's good that she thinks that, it might get the officers here quicker. Shoving the phone into my back pocket, I make my way over to the bag on the table as quietly as I possibly can. I never closed it after taking my phone so I don't have to worry about any stupid zippers when I get there. Putting my hand inside, I feel around locking my hand around something solid. It's a thin round pipe about a foot in length. It's solid metal and most likely what was used to hit us over the head.

    I take the weapon bringing it back into the alcove with me and wait. I know he's coming, it's inevitable. I'm going to be ready for him this time though. I don't care that he was my best friend, or that he's my stalker, all I care about is getting out of here alive.

    I don't have to wait long. The door at the top of the stairs is flung open and heavy boots land on the steps. Jeans cover his legs protecting his delicate skin. I know the moment he notices the empty chair, his body freezing halfway down the stairs, and I take this as my opportunity to strike. Gripping the pipe tightly, I forcefully ram the tip into the back of his calf. Zach loses his footing, yelping as he tumbles down the remaining stairs onto the concrete.

    In seconds, I'm running from the alcove and up the steps, but a hand grasps my ankle. The air whooshed from my lungs as I hit the wood hard, and before I can get up, Zach is tugging me down to the ground. He kicks me, further knocking the wind out of me, and I try to concentrate on getting oxygen into my lungs.

    "Now that wasn't nice," he glares down at me.

    I cough, gasping, "it wasn't supposed to be."

    His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me up aggressively. "You'll pay for that."

    He backhands me, letting me fall to the ground. My head smacks into the concrete with a crack and my vision blurs once again, the previous hit to the head not helping matters. I groan, attempting to push myself up on my knees, but I lose my balance.

    "Oh," Zach gasps, sounding surprised. "Let me help you up, sweetheart."

    He hauls me up by my biceps and plops me on the chair of doom. I whimper, not wanting to be tied up again, and blink my eyes to get my vision back under control. It takes me a few seconds, but I'm finally not seeing double anymore. I can't let him tie me back to the chair. If he does, I know I won't be getting out of it a second time and then it'll be over. There won't be another opportunity to escape, I'll have failed. I didn't work so hard just to fail at the first sign of trouble. I can do this, I know I can.

    Working up the courage, I grit my teeth and snap my leg up into Zach's crotch. He stumbles back, his hands covering his manhood. Heaving myself up, I stumble to the stairs and crawl up them as fast as I can. I hit him pretty hard so I know I gave myself a couple seconds of a head start.

    "Quinn!" He roars behind me, "get your ass back here!"

    I ignore him, clumsily making it to the door. The main level of the house isn't in any better condition than the basement. Paint peels from the walls, the hardwood floors old and rotten in some spots. In one corner of the living room lies a lonely twin mattress with a sleeping bag on top of it. Zach must have been squatting here for the weeks he's been stalking me. What has he been doing this whole time, just watching me? What about The Underground? Has he really not been to work this whole time?

    Not wasting anymore time, I limp through the living room just as he bursts through the doorway, "Quinn!"

    I scream as he charges for me, his body tackling mine to the floor. His hands wrap around my neck while he hovers above me straddling my waist. My nails scrape at his arms, his face, anywhere I can reach, to get him to let go, to let me breathe. My lungs burn as oxygen is deprived from entering my body. Lightheadedness makes my head swim and I'm afraid I'm going to lose consciousness before I can get him to let go.

    "I love you, sweet girl," he murmurs into my ear. "If I can't have you, no one can."

    Vaguely, I hear a loud bang and shouts surround us. Suddenly his hands aren't around my neck anymore and I'm finally allowed to take in a breath of air. People encircle us and Zach's body is pulled off of me by one of the officers.

    One of the officers kneels next to me and says something, but I can't hear. My ears are ringing and my vision swims out of focus. Panic seizes me as I'm about to pass out and I make a mad grab for the man's arm. He looks at me with gentle eyes and I know in my heart that he's telling me I'll be okay even though I can't hear the words.

    Nothing else registers in my brain as my eyes finally close, darkness enveloping my being in complete silence.