Chapter Thirty-Eight

SHAY

Vince dug his fingers into my cheeks, forcing my mouth open.

I jerked.

And kicked.

Using the last bit of energy left in me, I struggled against him, but it was pointless. He tipped the pills into my mouth and quickly forced it closed while pinching my nose.

They were bitter, the foul taste absolutely nauseating, but there was nothing I could do at that point. There was no choice but to swallow them, and he waited, his body pressing down on me as I forced them painfully down my throat.

When he was satisfied, he let me go, wiping the sweat from his brow as he climbed off my body and grabbed the upended chair from the floor. I gasped, fighting for air and gagging on every breath.

Five pills.

That's what I thought I'd felt go down. I tried to do the math. He'd taken them from Jason. I knew for sure Jason wouldn't have had anything below the highest dose, eighty milligrams of oxycodone. Considering my tolerance was at zero, one or two of those would be enough to knock me out completely.

Five?

That would kill me.

Vince's phone began to ring, and he pulled it from his pocket, pushing his shoulders back and standing a little taller as he answered. "Yeah, of course… she's right here waiting for you…"

This was it. It was the guy, and I could see that the deal made Vince feel important, superior, and probably like he was on top of the world. But there was a final spark of fight inside me. I'd spent too many years being a victim. That wasn't me anymore. I was a survivor, and I was going to bring Vince crashing back down to earth.

"Uh-huh… we're in Room 614… okay, see you in ten minutes."

He hung up, and the laugh that suddenly burst from my mouth startled him, making him jump. "Jesus Christ, no wonder your father never trusted you to do anything," I taunted, aware that I had only minutes, maybe fifteen if I was lucky. I needed to plant a seed of doubt and fear within his mind and hope like hell my acting skills were good enough to make it believable before it was too late.

"The hell are you talking about?" he questioned dismissively while he tapped away at his phone screen.

I licked my lips and let my eyes fall closed, just for a moment, before forcing them open again. Playing dazed wasn't hard because, with two blows to the head, I was already fighting the darkness at the back of my eyelids.

"Five of those pills is enough to kill a grown maa… mann…" I slurred, trying to make it authentic but not dramatic. "In abooout… five minutes, I'll be… deaaa… dead. And when your friend gets here, so weee… will you for not havi… ing the girl you owed him."

I managed to force out a witchy cackle purely for effect, the coughing fit I had after really reinforcing my words.

The way his eyes widened was almost worth the pain I was in. It was pure fear.

He believed me, which he should because while I'd embellished a few details, I wasn't exactly lying. Those pills could kill me if I didn't work quickly, but I simply was not ready to accept that as a result.

He shook his head vigorously. "No." He clutched his cell phone tightly, his eyes flicking down, then back up to me, then down again. "I just… I thought… they were just meant to calm you down. Make you sleep, maybe. You're lying!" I could see the cogs turning and grinding, the dots connecting.

He was scared of this guy—he'd made that absolutely fucking clear. Since Vince had already told him what room we were in and he was already on his way here, possibly already in the hotel, he had only minutes to make a choice. Even if I was lying and the pills weren't as toxic as I claimed, was he willing to risk hanging around when this asshole showed up, and all he had to offer was a dead girl?

Especially after he'd already obviously told him I wasn't the first girl this guy had been promised.

Or even the second.

I was his last resort he was hoping to satisfy his buyer with.

"You're just lying, trying to throw me," he screamed, his chest heaving and eyes flicking around the room like he thought every breeze or sound was someone coming after them.

He was losing it quickly—a trait I noticed he struggled with during our last interaction. Once one toy was out of the cot, it wasn't long before the rest joined them.

Exactly what I wanted.

"I hope yo… ou take that ch… chance," I mumbled, letting my eyes fall closed and allowing my breathing to slow. I'd seen so many people fall into this state before, their bodies giving in to drugs or injuries and slowly slip away.

"No." He hurried over, and I felt the bed dip. He grabbed my face, shaking it, slapping at my cheek. When I managed to stay limp through each jostle and jerk, I decided to go all in.

I held my breath.

He shook me again, shoving and pulling at my body frantically before finally holding a hand over my mouth, trying to feel if I was breathing. I wasn't.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" He leaped off the bed, and while I couldn't see him, his panicked footsteps shook the floor as he paced by my feet. "He's going to kill me. I need to… I need to get out. I need to get away. I can't… he'll have my head if he sees this. Fuck. Fuck."

Yes. The rambling. The terror.

It was music to my ears, and I wished I could watch it, but I stayed completely still, trying to focus on the breath I was holding and making sure it lasted, though I was already beginning to struggle.

If I were going to make it through this, I needed him gone.

I needed him to run.

"I'll avoid the elevator and take the stairs," Vince mumbled to himself. He was farther away. "I'll get the car and find Marco. He'll know what to do."

Like the switch had flicked back, he was suddenly calmer, piecing things together more logically, making a plan. It was like a damn seesaw—this man's emotions, thoughts, and actions never balanced in the middle. Always either calculated or chaotic.

The click of the door handle had me almost losing it and breaking too early, the pounding in my head and the way my stomach twisted and churned already sending me close to the edge of giving in. He yanked it open, and I dared a peek. The room was distorted and hazy, my eyes refusing to focus, but I caught the blur of his body duck out into the hall and listened as the door slowly scraped the carpet and eased closed behind him.

I gave it a moment.

Just one.

I waited for that final click before I launched myself to the edge of the bed and shoved my fingers down my throat.

Get them out.

I needed to get them out.

My head was spinning, and I felt that tingle in my muscles that sixteen-year-old Shay would have killed for, but present Shay knew was only the beginning. The high would come, but it would be gone in the blink of an eye. Then the crash would take over.

And if I didn't get some of these chemicals out of my body, that crash was going to hurt like hell, and I was pretty sure I wouldn't survive it.

I was weak and exhausted. My body hurt. My head felt like it was going to explode.

But I wasn't ready to give in just yet.

I pressed two fingers to the back of my throat, over and over, until I gagged and spilled my stomach contents all across the hotel floor. It tasted just as vile coming up as it had going down.

It was disgusting and degrading, but I did it again.

And again.

Forcing everything out that I could until nothing but bile hit the back of my tongue, and I finally collapsed face down against the blankets. Each breath had become a struggle, and sweat was building at the base of my neck, a cold chill settling within my skin.

I guess we were skipping the high and going straight to the hell.

I couldn't bear to lift my head and look at the floor, to examine my vomit for pills and see if I managed to get any out at all because it didn't matter. I'd done everything I could.

And I'd reached the point where I just fought.

I fought the pounding inside my skull.

I fought the stupid, goddamn drugs and the poison that was slowly seeping into my veins like venom.

I'd done it before.

The fight wasn't new, but what I was fighting for was.

This was about a life I could have only dreamed of when I was that teen girl praying for a future with a family and friends and a man who gave me the kind of high that no drug ever could.

I had it all.

And I wasn't about to give it up yet.