Dead of Summer - Page 137

His smile turns sweet, and instantly I realize I’m about to regret this entire day. Sure enough, Shawn hits me in the face again, his fist cracking against my nose before he lets me fall to the dirt amidst Liza’s and Kinsley’s shrieks of protest. They don’t stop, though, and when Shawn turns on them, I blink through tears and hook my ankle around his, throwing him off balance.

“I wasn’t done,” I protest weakly, tears streaming down my face along with blood from my cracked nose. “So don’t ignore me, Shawnathon.”

“That’s not my name.” But he turns on me anyway, brows raised. “Where the fuck did you get Shawnathon from?”

“I don’t know. It sounded stupid. Isn’t that reason enough?” I taunt, struggling to sit up again. “Weren’t we having a conversation?” Without Kinsley and Liza here, I wouldn’t be so bold. I also wouldn’t have gotten close enough to him for this to happen.

But I’ll do whatever I have to to keep him away from them. I can’t not, when their lives are in danger. And all I have to do is hold out until Kayde shows up.

If he shows up, a very unhelpful voice whispers in my brain. And if it isn’t too late.

Shawn does turn at my words, though it’s just so he can kick me hard back to the ground, and takes advantage of my position when I curl onto my side to slam his shoe straight into my solar plexus.

I wretch, my hands clenching around the rope, and wonder how long I can realistically last before he finally does just kill me.

Another kick has me gasping for air, but when Shawn drags me back to a sitting position, I only give him an incredulous, half-manic laugh and a crooked grin. “You kick like a little girl. And not the kind of girl that comes here to camp. The kind of little girl too delicate to camp,” I clarify.

For a moment, Shawn just looks at me. Then he hits me again, and sends me right back to the ground, only to drag me back up as I groan around my throbbing, bloodied mouth. “What is the matter with you?” he laughs, incredulous. “Summer, in case you haven’t gotten the memo, I’m going to kill you. Right here. Right in front of them.” He gestures toward Kinsley and Liza, but I refuse to look at them. “You should be terrified of me.”

“Yeah? I should?” I blink, still grinning stupidly. “Okay, I’m feeling a little faint, so lean in here. I’ll tell you a secret.” It’s such a stupid thing to say, but he leans in anyway until our faces are nearly pressed together. “The truth is, Shawn…” I look down, then flick my gaze up to his. “Compared to my dad? You’re a preschooler in a sandbox throwing a tantrum.”

And with that, I slam my forehead against his with an audible crack that has me reeling and immediately wondering if I’m going to vomit.

But it has Shawn doing the same, and he falls back onto the ground as I do, my hands scrabbling for the knife at my back as I twist and try to free myself. I squirm and writhe, moving my arms past the point of pain until they’re screaming, but the ropes are tighter than I’d expected, and all too soon I’m being yanked up to a sitting position so roughly that my t-shirt tears.

“I’m not playing around, Summer!” Shawn sneers in my face. “And I’m not your fucking dad. I’m not going to walk away once I’ve had enough. I’ll make you afraid of me?—”

I spit in his face, and with some satisfaction, watch the mix of blood and saliva dripping down his cheek. Shawn’s face curls in disgust, and he snarls as I continue to scrabble at the ropes holding me.

All I have to do is get free. He doesn’t know I have the blade, and in my desperation, I’m willing to do something stupid.

But the shine of a blade isn’t in my hand when it appears. It’s in his. Shawn lunges, deaf to Kinsley’s scream, and pain blooms in my shoulder as he lets the blade sink in a few inches just under my collarbone before yanking it free.

Instantly, my mind goes white with pain. It’s a struggle to pull myself out of it, and my mouth falls open in shock.

He stabbed me.

He really, actually, stabbed me.

It burns more than a punch or slap ever could, and for a moment, all I can do is try to wrap my mind around the dizzying, searing pain.

Not that Shawn seems keen on giving me the chance. He slashes the blade along my thigh, missing my femoral artery but still scoring deep enough that I worry I’m going to pass out. My escape attempts have come to an end, and when he shoves me down on my back, straddling my hips a second later with the knife still in his hand, all I can do is look up at him in a pained, desperate daze.

“Beg me,” he snarls, leaning in close. “Beg me not to kill you, Summer. Beg me to kill one of them instead.” His eyes are bright with desperation and excitement, and his hand trembles on the hilt of the knife.

So I smile sweetly, trying not to cry, and let out a soft, exasperated sigh like I’m only mildly inconvenienced. “Oh, Shawnathon,” I murmur, shaking my head at him in disappointment. “If only you weren’t so bad at this.”

His face contorts, and when I see the muscles in his hand flex, I at least pat myself on the back with the strangely disconnected part of my brain.

As far as last words go, they really aren’t that bad.

I wonder if Kinsley will have them etched on my gravestone.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Time seems to slow down as his fingers tighten around the knife. There’s no mystery about what’s happening. But I can only watch as it comes down in increments, aware of a loud sound in my ears that I assume is my mind screaming its panic for the rest of me to listen.

Not that I’m going to be able to do anything about it. What can I do, except what I’ve been doing, with my hands tied and my brain foggy from pain and blood loss?