14. Kristina

14

KRISTINA

I was dying. My vision was narrowing, a circle of light that darkened to gray and then to cold, empty black at the edges.

I tried to hit the man who was strangling me. But he was bigger than me, his arms longer. My fingers scratched and clawed the air an inch short of his face. I tried to pry his hands loose from my throat, but they were iron-hard, trembling with the power he was putting into killing me. The power and the hatred. I could see it in those gray eyes: I disgusted him.

I thought I heard the handle of my door move and my heart lifted. They were coming in! But then to my horror it went quiet again.

My eyes searched for something, anything that would make a noise. I was so woozy now, my vision lagged and lurched. The lamp! But it was out of reach of my straining fingers.

Muffled voices outside. I was hysterical, now, pleading in my mind. Come in! Please! But then I heard heavy footsteps walking away. Garrett! No! I need you!

My fingers brushed something on the nightstand, smooth and glossy and thick. The magazine! My muscles were going limp, but I summoned all my strength and shoved it as hard as I could. It hit the base of the lamp and sent it skidding towards the edge….

The assassin heaved me by the throat, pulling me away from the bedside table so I couldn’t do it again. My eyes locked on the lamp. It slowed and came to a stop half off the edge, rocking back and forth.

The assassin froze on top of me, his eyes on the lamp too. If he released me to catch it, I’d scream. The lamp teetered. Come on, please!

It fell to the floor with an almighty crash.

I heard running footsteps outside. But the assassin was squeezing my throat even harder, desperate. My vision narrowed until all I could see were his eyes. My stomach lurched. They’re going to be too late.

Everything went black.