TW: attempted assault (I hate writing such chapters just as much as I hate reading them. Feel free to move to the next chapter once it's released; our ML is finally making a proper appearance there)
"Ugh..." Anna shifted on the couch, her body so heavy that it felt like it was filled with gravel. She tried to open her eyes, but even if she blinked several times, her vision was too blurry to see anything properly.
Did she pass out? She wondered as he reached her hands to her face to rub her burning eyes, but the moment they touched her face, a wave of shock surged through her body––her vision had returned, and she realized that she was no longer in the hotel room.
Now, her surroundings were overwhelmingly dark, with only a dim orange light dying inside an old lightbulb under the ceiling. Peeling herself off the cold floor, Anna looked around in panic.
"No, no, no... what is this place..? What is going on?! No!"
"Finally awake?" A man's voice cut through her feverish consciousness, jolting Anna out of her anxiety. "The drug hit you quite hard, huh? I've been waiting for an hour now!" The voice added, a loud chickle joining right after.
Anna turned her head to its source and saw a tall, gruff man standing in the doorway, his large, muscular hands crossed at his tight chest. He was wearing black leather gloves and held a cigarette butt, which he threw on the cold floor next to her feet.
The adrenaline rush made her mind crystal clear, and she could dissect what was happening to her.
Marienne set this entire thing up. But whatever it was that she was trying to do, would definitely mean death to Anna.
"You were yelling just a moment ago, and now you're suddenly quiet?" The man spoke again, his voice growing closer now. "Aren't you even going to ask me who I am?"
Anna swallowed hard, another surge of adrenaline boiling in her veins. She didn't care who the stranger was; he was probably a criminal hired by Marienne, and knowing his identity would not change a thing anyway.
So she remained silent, struggling to compose her frantic breathing while using the clarity of her mind to think what she could do. Her body was still heavy with the drug effect, but she wasn't tied or restrained, which meant that the place she was in was probably locked or at least secured.
If only she knew where exactly she was right now.
Tired by her silence, the man suddenly groaned and leaped on top of her, catching her hands and bringing them over her head while her body was trapped under his heavy weight.
"Fuck! I didn't want to do anything to you cause I don't enjoy fucking unconscious chicks, but if you keep quiet like this, then what's the fun in it for me? Come on! Give me something, you stupid bitch!"
His face was close, his hot breath, laced with sourness, stung her face with the traces of alcohol. If she obeyed and acted the way he wanted, would he give up anything to her?
But she didn't need to ask. It looked like the man was quite eager to talk himself.
"That wench wanted me to get rid of you fast, but what's fun about that? It's been a while since I had a bitch under me, and you have quite a bod on you."
He traced the back of his hand over Anna's arched neck, making her shiver and wince in disgust. "Too bad about your face, though, I will still have to do it eventually," he added, gripping her chin painfully. "But I don't really care about it. A good pair of tits will do the trick just fine."
So I was right, Anna thought, fighting the urge to whine from pain. Marienne wanted to kill her. But why? And what was that about her face? She could have drugged me and covered it up as a suicide, that hotel room was a perfect setting too. If this whole setup doesn't have something deeper about it, then she is simply a sick psycho bitch!
"Ah, fuck it!" The man snapped, no longer willing to give her another chance to speak. His free hand snaked around her neck, his thick fingers pressing on her throat.
Anna's pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the heavy rain pounding against the windows. The man's grip tightened around her wrists, his breath hot and foul against her cheek.
Suddenly, panic clawed up Anna's throat. She thrashed against him, but he was stronger, pressing her body against the cold, damp floor.
"Don't fight it, sweetheart," he sneered, pressing even harder.
Anna's heart lurched. No. I can't let it end this way. Not like this.
The man scoffed again, his right knee moving between her legs to secure her position. With a surge of raw desperation, Anna slammed her knee upward, kicking it away. He grunted in pain, his hold loosening for the briefest second—but that was enough. She wrenched free, stumbling backward as she nearly jumped to her feet, but before she could run, he roared in fury and lunged at her again.
Her fingers fumbled blindly over the cluttered table behind her. Something cold and metallic brushed her hand—a bottle. Without thinking, she grabbed it and swung.
The glass shattered against his face. A wet, burning sensation splashed across her skin, and then—agony.
Anna screamed as her vision went white-hot with pain. Her eyes burned as if they had been set on fire. Acid. It was acid. The realization hit her a second too late.
The man howled, clutching his face, but Anna didn't wait to see the damage. She staggered blindly, her body crashing into walls and furniture as she forced herself forward. She had to get out. Now.
The door—where was the door? Her fingers grazed the frame, and she stumbled through, collapsing into the rain-soaked alley outside. The downpour stung her raw skin, but she barely noticed. She ran.
Blind, disoriented, she had no sense of where she was going—only that she had to move. Her bare feet slapped against wet pavement. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The rain raged around her, swallowing her sobs.
Then—tires screeched.
Anna barely registered the blurred glow of headlights cutting through the darkness before she ran straight into their path.
A horn blared. The car skidded to a stop, barely inches from her trembling body.
She swayed on unsteady legs, her breath hitching, her ruined eyes darting blindly toward the unseen driver.
And then—silence.