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It’s called a Breast Slicer. Daniel opened the pinchers which were formed into two wicked spikes. This would be stabbed into the outer edges of a woman’s tits, impaling her.

Violet can’t find the words, and the douche looks me up and down, lip curling, recognition drawing his face into a delighted grin. He obviously knows who I am—not hard when there’s billboard of me plastered on the side of the university’s field house.Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do.

Pretty sure you don’t, but we’re about to get to acquainted real quick if you don’t back the fuck off and leave her alone.My jaw clenches. Does it matter?He raises his palms in a show of surrender, like he’s the good guy here and I’m the piece of shit. Look pal, why don’t you back off. Violet and me? We’re good. She’s safe. You can leave the stuttering freak with me. I just wanna talk to her.

What the fuck did you just say? I utter the words so quietly, so venomously and deliberately slow. Violet inches farther into the cinderblock wall behind her.The preppy assfuck takes a step forward. I said back off, dude.

I shake my head slowly. No, no, the other part.

No. I grind out between clenched teeth. The other part. You know what I’m fucking talking about, so say it. Fucking. Say. It.I couldn’t just lie there. That wasn’t an option. Nila needed me. And I wouldn’t let her down again.

It’s time to do things my fucking way. Otherwise, it will be too late.The first three days, Louille had been a damn Nazi on my attempts to walk. I got that he was responsible for my welfare. That he’d done his job and patched me up to ensure I lived another day. But what he didn’t get was I didn’t want to live another fucking day if Nila wasn’t there with me.

It’s my responsibility, goddammit.I wouldn’t fail her. Ever again.