Prologue
BLACK’S CHURCH, USA
NOVEMBER 2010
My heart pounded fast and hard inside my chest, drumming in my ears. I stumbled backward as quickly as I could. Even though I knew it was useless—that I was only trying to avoid the inevitable. Trying, at the very least, to delay the next wave of pain I knew was about to crash through my body.
— Whatever you do to her —
The low growl came from somewhere in the shadows. The voice was deep and coarse. Terrifying. Like the kind of tone a wild animal would use, if it could speak, right before it attacked. At least, that’s what it sounded like in my dazed mind. It was as if something heavy pressed against his chest—or chains dug into his back, holding him in place. A stiff form with clenched fists in the dark, as he delivered the warning:
— I’ll do to you. Ten times worse.
My attacker smiled. With long strides, he was already closing in. My injured leg buckled beneath me like dead weight. I kicked his shin with my good leg, groaning as the movement rattled through my broken body. He let out a grunt of pain at my last effort, then surged forward again, eager to make me pay for the kick.
His leg drew back. I shut my eyes, bracing for the blow I knew was coming.
And it came.
Hard and sharp, right in the center of my body, knocking the air out of my lungs. A breathless gasp scraped up my throat—I could feel the air leaving me as I was thrown backward over the smooth wood. I heard the thump as my head slammed into a bleacher.
I was too stunned to feel pain. I couldn’t breathe. He walked slowly toward me, and with strength no human should possess, he grabbed my arm. I felt myself moving through the air again—this time crashing into the opposite wall, falling limp like a useless rag doll.
And if pain hadn’t come with the first impact, it had only been waiting to come back with vengeance. I felt the top of my head explode in a rush of fireworks. There was bile, nausea, and blood—more blood than I had ever seen—any place I touched left my fingers stained red, and it was all mine.
The hot liquid spread through my hair with alarming speed. I could feel it soaking into the shoulder of my shirt. I could hear it dripping onto the wooden floor. The smell of it made my stomach lurch.
There was a panicked, desperate panting hanging in the air—and to my horror, I realized it was mine.
So this was it. I was going to die.
I was terrified.
