tried to tear herself free of his grip, to at least get her head above water for a second so that she couldbreathe, but he held her down against the bottom of the tub like he meant to keep her there forever.
Like he meant to drown her.
The horror of it hit her with the suddenness of a thunderclap.
My God, heâs going to kill me! A second later, on a fresh wave of horror, she thought: Like they killed Jeff.
Like he killed Jeff?
Anger and terror combined to send adrenaline rocketing through her. Surging upward with an urgency born of mortal fear, Riley struggled desperately but still couldnât break free of his grip or get her face above the surface. Dying for air, she went for his eyes, just missed as he jerked back, and wound up raking her nails across the front of his mask and down the sides of his neck.
âYou fuckingââ He lifted her up by her shouldersâoh, God, thank God, her face was out of the water at last; she sucked in air with a greedy, shuddering gaspâand slammed her head hard against the back of the tub.
Riley saw stars.
Just as quick as that, he pushed her back down under the water and held her there with one hand locked around her throat.
She barely managed to press her lips together. Her lungs were empty. The blow to her head had made her exhale.
No, no, please, I canât breathe .
Panic blinded her. No, it was her hair, loose now, swirling in a dark cloud in front of her face. Her body writhed, twisted, as her empty lungs screamed to be filled. The feel of his rubber-gloved hand squeezing her throat was nightmarish. She grabbed his forearm,clawed at it, tried to knock it aside. As if in retaliation, his hand tightened with excruciating force, and then he let go. She shot upward, only to be caught again before she could reach air and breathe. Clamping on to her shoulders, he forced her down even deeper. Trapped.
He kept her shoulders pinned to the bottom of the tub. Her head swam; her ears rang. The smooth sides of the tub provided no purchase for her desperately scrabbling hands.
I need air . Her burning lungs cried out for her to inhale. It was all she could do not to give in to the increasingly urgent need, but if she did . . .
Iâm going to die.
As the reality of that slammed into her, her heart pounded like it would burst out of her chest. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Without warning he hauled her up so that her head was out of the water once more.
Oh, thank God .
Sucking in air for all she was worth, Riley coughed and choked and hacked up water and sucked more air into her starved lungs in a series of frantic wheezes.
âPay attention, bitch.â
He was talking to her. Water streamed from her hair, which hung down in front of her face and partially blocked her air intake and her vision. She tossed her head, slinging the soaked mass of it back, and to her surprise found herself looking at her attackerâs face. In the same shocked instant in which she registered that his ski mask was gone she realized that he must have pulledit off when heâd switched to the one-handed grip on her throat. Sheâd grabbed his mask: had she dislodged it somehow so that he couldnât see properly?
It didnât matter: the damage was done. He was no longer making any attempt to hide his features. Her eyes widened on a bony, sallow, thirty-something face with a long chin, large nose, full mouth twisted into a snarl. Short brown hair. Raised scar near the nose. Ugly. Scary.
I can see him clearly. I can identify him. He doesnât care if I can identify him.
Panic made her pulse rate skyrocket. It sent cold shivers racing down her spine.
âYou scream again, or give me any more trouble, and Iâll make you sorry.â His voice grated. It had a faintly foreign intonation. It also left her in no doubt whatsoever that he meant what he said. He pushed her against the back of the tub, gave her shoulders a warning squeeze. As they dug
Like he meant to drown her.
The horror of it hit her with the suddenness of a thunderclap.
My God, heâs going to kill me! A second later, on a fresh wave of horror, she thought: Like they killed Jeff.
Like he killed Jeff?
Anger and terror combined to send adrenaline rocketing through her. Surging upward with an urgency born of mortal fear, Riley struggled desperately but still couldnât break free of his grip or get her face above the surface. Dying for air, she went for his eyes, just missed as he jerked back, and wound up raking her nails across the front of his mask and down the sides of his neck.
âYou fuckingââ He lifted her up by her shouldersâoh, God, thank God, her face was out of the water at last; she sucked in air with a greedy, shuddering gaspâand slammed her head hard against the back of the tub.
Riley saw stars.
Just as quick as that, he pushed her back down under the water and held her there with one hand locked around her throat.
She barely managed to press her lips together. Her lungs were empty. The blow to her head had made her exhale.
No, no, please, I canât breathe .
Panic blinded her. No, it was her hair, loose now, swirling in a dark cloud in front of her face. Her body writhed, twisted, as her empty lungs screamed to be filled. The feel of his rubber-gloved hand squeezing her throat was nightmarish. She grabbed his forearm,clawed at it, tried to knock it aside. As if in retaliation, his hand tightened with excruciating force, and then he let go. She shot upward, only to be caught again before she could reach air and breathe. Clamping on to her shoulders, he forced her down even deeper. Trapped.
He kept her shoulders pinned to the bottom of the tub. Her head swam; her ears rang. The smooth sides of the tub provided no purchase for her desperately scrabbling hands.
I need air . Her burning lungs cried out for her to inhale. It was all she could do not to give in to the increasingly urgent need, but if she did . . .
Iâm going to die.
As the reality of that slammed into her, her heart pounded like it would burst out of her chest. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
Without warning he hauled her up so that her head was out of the water once more.
Oh, thank God .
Sucking in air for all she was worth, Riley coughed and choked and hacked up water and sucked more air into her starved lungs in a series of frantic wheezes.
âPay attention, bitch.â
He was talking to her. Water streamed from her hair, which hung down in front of her face and partially blocked her air intake and her vision. She tossed her head, slinging the soaked mass of it back, and to her surprise found herself looking at her attackerâs face. In the same shocked instant in which she registered that his ski mask was gone she realized that he must have pulledit off when heâd switched to the one-handed grip on her throat. Sheâd grabbed his mask: had she dislodged it somehow so that he couldnât see properly?
It didnât matter: the damage was done. He was no longer making any attempt to hide his features. Her eyes widened on a bony, sallow, thirty-something face with a long chin, large nose, full mouth twisted into a snarl. Short brown hair. Raised scar near the nose. Ugly. Scary.
I can see him clearly. I can identify him. He doesnât care if I can identify him.
Panic made her pulse rate skyrocket. It sent cold shivers racing down her spine.
âYou scream again, or give me any more trouble, and Iâll make you sorry.â His voice grated. It had a faintly foreign intonation. It also left her in no doubt whatsoever that he meant what he said. He pushed her against the back of the tub, gave her shoulders a warning squeeze. As they dug
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