Page 121 of Stalkers Anonymous

“I’m going to get in my car now,” I say, standing slowly and turning toward it without taking my eyes off him. “And you’re going to leave me alone.”

“No. I don’t think so.” His voice hardens. “I think you and I are going to have a conversation about respect. About what happens when someone thinks she’s too good to help a person who needs her.”

On trembling legs, I run for it, trying to put distance between us, but I don’t make it far. He catches me before I’ve taken a half-dozen strides, grabbing me by the back of my head and pulling me to the ground by my hair. My shopping bag falls, and I hear my phone slide out of my purse.

“Let go of me!” I shout, hoping someone will hear, but the concrete walls just echo my voice back at me.

“Nobody’s coming to save you,” Lars says, his grip tightening. “Your boyfriend’s not here to play hero this time.”

Boyfriend.

For a confused moment, I don’t know who he means. Then I realize. He must have seen Cole that night.

He’s been waiting this whole time. For Cole not to be here, and for me to be alone.

I try to pull away, but Lars is stronger than he looks. Pain slices through my scalp as he grips my hair harder, yanking me around like I’m a broken doll.

“What do you want?” I cry out, trying to keep him talking while I figure out how to get away.

“I want you to understand what you’ve done to me. I lost access to my favorite hospital because some stupid resident doctor thought she was smarter than everyone else.”

“I was doing my job,” I gasp while he pulls my head back, forcing me to look at him.

“Your job?” He laughs again, that same cold sound. “Your job is to help your patients. Not judge them. Not make their lives harder. Do you know how hard life is when you’re living in chronic pain?”

I can smell whiskey on his breath now, and that scares me more than anything else. Drunk Lars Winters is unpredictable. More violent. So much more dangerous.

“Please,” I try. “You’re hurting me. This won’t solve anything.”

“It’ll make me feel better,” he says.

And that’s when I know I’m fucked.

I remember the self-defense class Rachel and I took six months ago, before any of this started. The instructor’s voice echoes in my head.

Don’t be polite. Don’t worry about being rude. Your safety is more important than anyone’s feelings. Don’t let them take you to a second location. They’ll never take you somewhere safer. Do everything you can to get away.

Lars’s grip loosens slightly as he shifts position, and I take my chance. I elbow his thigh as hard as I can. He yelps and loosens his hold just enough for me to break free.

I scramble to my feet and run toward my car, but he recovers faster than I expect. I make it maybe ten feet when he tackles me from behind, sending both of us crashing to the concrete. My knees and palms scrape against the rough surface, and my head slams into the ground.

Stars explode across my vision, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I roll over and try to kick at him, but he grabs my ankle and drags me back toward him.

“You think you’re so smart,” he pants, positioning himself over me. “You think you’re better than people like me. It’s time someone taught you a lesson.”

He swings his fist toward my face, and I manage to get my hands up just in time to deflect some of the blow. It still connects with my cheekbone, sending a sharp pain through my skull and making my vision blur.

Fight back, Hailey. Fight back. Live.

I dig my fingernails into his face, scratching as hard as I can. He screams and rears back, giving me enough space to bring my knee up hard between his legs. He doubles over, cursing, and I scramble out from under him.

But I’m disoriented from hitting my head, my limbs too heavy to lift. Lars grabs the back of my shirt, lifts me to face him, then slams me against a concrete pillar over and over, drawing out each blow like it’s bringing him more pleasure than the last.

The relentless impacts knock the wind out of me, leaving me gasping, and he uses my momentary paralysis to repeatedly punch my exposed side. Pain shatters through my torso, and I already know he’s broken my ribs.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.