Broken

• Chapter 44 •

"And that's how I broke my sixth bone."

I'm laughing hysterically at Adrien's story about the first time he went cliff-jumping. My phone buzzes in my pocket, I pull it out to find a message from dad.

Minty, emergency in New York. I have to fly out tonight, I'll be back in a few days. Are you gonna be okay?

"Everything okay?"

I look up to find Adrien's concerned eyes on me. I remember that mom is in the hospital, and I'm out here having fun with my boyfriend. I cough, my mood has suddenly changed, and I feel sick.

"Yeah yeah. I just have to get home, it's getting kinda late."

And it is, it's nearly one in the morning.

"Okay, I'll drop you—"

"No!" I blurt, then cough, shaking my head to recover. "I just mean, I wanna walk. I need to digest all that pizza," I tell him.

He frowns, "Come on. I'm not letting you walk home alone at this time."

I can feel myself getting irritated, who the hell does he think he is giving me orders? "I can take care of myself," I bark.

His expression shifts to a more confused, concerned one, and I relax mine. He breathes out and clenches his jaw. "Is there something you're keeping from me?" he whispers.

My heart drops. "No. Of course not. I just—I have to go. I'll see you later, kay?" I step on my tip-toes and plant a kiss on his cheek, "I had a lot of fun."

I start walking away before he can retort. I don't know why I have this sudden urge to get away from him, but I do. He wants to get close to me, and I hate that. I shouldn't, though. It's normal for a guy to want to get closer to his girlfriend, for fuck's sake.

I'm swarmed in my thoughts for so long that I don't realize I'm lost. I glance up and realize this street is pretty much deserted.

I'll walk home, she said. I can take care of myself, she said.

For fuck's sake, Clementine. I'm an idiot.

Why didn't I ask him to take me to the nearest bus station, at least? I continue walking down the street, avoiding dark alleys at all costs. Not that that's very easy, I've ended up in a shady ass neighborhood.

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" a grimy voice rings behind me.

I flinch and look back to find a man in his mid-twenties smoking a cigarette, eyes hungrily roaming my body. I clench my jaw and continue walking, picking up my pace. Sturdy hands grip my arms and I immediately switch to fight mode.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off."

My gaze is deadly, and the man seems taken aback. His dark eyes grow wide in amusement.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just thought we could have some fun," he steps closer and places his hands on my waist forcefully. He towers over me, at least twice my size, and I begin getting scared.

I try squirming out from under his grip, but he won't budge. "Dude, let go of me!" I hiss.

He gives me a nasty snarl and grips me even tighter, I can practically feel the bruise forming on my waist. I try fighting him, but it seems to have no effect on this man. He slams me back against the wall of a building, and it takes a few moments to catch my breath.

"STOP," my voice cracks. I'm officially terrified for my life.

My eyes frantically search for any other human being around. I spot a man and practically collapse in relief, I call out for him to help. He looks up to us and quickly looks back to the floor, scurrying away in a hurry. My jaw drops in shock.

I look back to the vile man in front of me, who now has his hands around my neck in a deadly grip. His eyes are bloodshot, he's evidently drunk off his ass. His lips make their way to mine, arms still pinning me to the wall. I shift my head to the side, avoiding his kiss at all costs.

He breathes against my neck, his breath is hot and makes my skin crawl. I can smell the tobacco, and memories flash in my brain involuntarily. I go limp for a second, my face falls.

"Stop."

"Shut up," he hisses through his teeth.

I try to scream, but I can't. His fingers are imprinting themselves into my throat, and nothing comes out. I struggle against his weight as tears sting my eyes. My mind is running like a freight train.

I'm going to die. That's the only explanation, as I hang here, propped up by this stranger's hands and being forced to look into his hateful, bloodthirsty eyes. I want to scrape them out so that no one will ever have to look at them ever again. I want to scream. I want to run. I want to kill him.

I can't. I'm not strong enough.

I have to stand here, useless, pathetic and weak, unable to do anything as this animal does with me as he pleases. Is he going to kill me? He hikes up my dress, and I use all the strength I have left to shove it back down.

This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This is NOT happening.

I can feel my body shaking, tears stream down my face and onto his large hands. I'm kicking and punching him, desperately trying to scream for him to stop, but nothing comes out. I feel my muscles ache and give up, the lack of oxygen entering my body is finally hitting me.

I hear him fumbling with his belt, and my eyes grow wide in horror. My surroundings begin getting hazy, I'm being pulled in and out of consciousness.

The last thing I remember before falling into a dark abyss is wishing I was dead.