Читать книгу Trust Me - Angela Clarke, Angela Clarke - Страница 14

He can feel the weight of her, her arms thin in his hands, her shoulders rolling, heavy. How can someone so fragile be so heavy? He had to hide her. This is his fault. He panicked. No one can know. He needs time to think. To fix this. He can still hear her screaming. He covers his ears. His heart is battering against his chest, like a dog on a chain going mental. Whoooof. Whoooof. Whoooof. Punching to get out. He feels like he’s turned inside out, that everything is backwards and he can’t quite grab hold of it. His hands are wet, slick. It’s her. She’s all over him. Blood. There is so much blood. This was supposed to be a laugh. Hot. Make him popular. This can’t be happening. It’s in his mouth. He can taste her. He gags. There’s a hair wrapped round his fingers. A long dark hair, stuck like when one catches you in a swimming pool. Cold and dark like pondweed. No, it’s cotton: a thread tying her to him. The dog in his chest is thrashing. Tearing him apart with its teeth from the inside. What has he done?