Page 115 of Toxic Kiss

Shit.

Shit.

I panic when his fingertips graze my leg, and kick faster. I’m almost there.

My hand wraps around the metal ladder. For a single heartbeat, I’m safe. I made it. But Cyrus is like a shark after blood, and he never gives up when it comes to torturing me.

I scream, but the sound dies as his hand clamps around my ankle and yanks. The water swallows me whole.

Terror slams into my chest. My grip on the ladder breaks, and my fingers scrape uselessly over the smooth metal before I’m dragged backward and down. The world goes muffled and warped, the laughter above me turns into distorted echoes that bounce through the water like something cruel and far away.

I kick. Twist. My nails rake against skin—his, but it does nothing. Cy is stronger.

My lungs burn, and the terror overwhelms me as I claw for the surface. My body knows before my mind catches up.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

But there’s no air, only water pressing in from every direction.

Cy releases me.

For a split second, I surge upward, breaking the surface with a gasp that tears from my throat. Air. It’s never felt so good. And then I’m dragged back under.

My scream for help is choked as water rushes into my mouth. It floods my throat, burning as it goes down. My body convulses as I cough, but there’s nowhere for it to go. My chest spasms, trying to breathe, trying to pull in air that isn’t there.

Everything tightens. My lungs. My throat. My thoughts. I’m going to die. This is the moment Cyrus kills me.

I can hear my heartbeat. It’s loud, frantic, pounding in my ears like a drum that’s too fast, too hard. I fight harder and kick wildly as any animal caught in a trap. My hands push against him, against the water, against anything.

He doesn’t move. Nothing works. My chest is on fire. No…worse. Tears sting my eyes, and they would fall if we were on land. But here in my watery hell, no one will ever see them.

I need air. I need⁠—

My body jerks as another mouthful of water forces its way in, and my vision flickers.

Black creeps in at the edges. My hands fly to my throat, clawing at nothing, trying to open something that remains blocked. My adrenaline wanes, and the fight drains out of me all at once.

I haven’t given up, but my limbs are heavy and don’t work.

The noise fades. The laughter. The splashing. Everything dulls like someone turned the volume down on the world. There’s just the pressure. Then darkness comes with a sharp, terrifying realization…this is really it.

Someone grabs me and pulls, but not down. Up. I break the surface, and air hits me like a punch as I’m dragged out over the rough stone around the pool. I barely feel the pain in my knees as I collapse forward, coughing violently. Water pours out of my mouth, my nose, and my lungs. Each breath is jagged, broken, like I’ve swallowed glass and then coughed it back up.

“Breathe, Haven, breathe,” Patrick says, patting my back. His voice cuts through the ringing in my ears. It’s comforting because even though we aren’t best friends anymore, he is the one person who will stop Cy when he takes things too far.

I cough until my whole chest aches. My vision swims in and out, and spots dance everywhere.

Hands hover around me, and voices overlap. Some are worried, some are whispering, but I can’t focus on any of it.

Air has never felt so violent and yet necessary.

Eventually, the gasping and wheezing ease. I’m still shaking. My hands tremble where they press against the stone.

I look to my left, and that is when I see him. Cyrus is in the pool, watching me, and for a moment…just one…he looks worried. Like maybe he didn’t mean to go this far. Then it’s gone and replaced with that same smirk I’ve learned to hate.

“Damn,” he says, pushing wet hair back from his face. “Aren’t fat girls supposed to float?”

Laughter ripples around us.