Deadgirl

Начало книги

My pulse pounded in my head, and I ran like my legs would fall off. The throbbing sound of the blood in my ears drowned out everything else, including the high, trapped animal screams I only vaguely recognized as my own. It blotted out the heavy footsteps of the man behind me, chasing me, catching me.

I wasn’t going to outrun him—I knew that before I even took my first step. But I could fight him less than I could flee, and my body said to bail. I listened.

The wind whipped at my hair. Long strings of sweat-soaked black hit me in my eyes, my gasping mouth. I wished I’d put the whole damn mess up in a ponytail, but then again, I’d been trying to look cute, and ponytails weren’t cute. If you were at the gym, or bouncing on top of a cheerleader pyramid, maybe. Going out with your dream guy on your very first date? Hair down. Its pedestrian straightness curled into spiraling locks that fell to my shoulders, my lashes so long you could land planes on them, my wide eyes—my best asset—emphasized by exotic…expensive…eyeliner. Cute top, cute jacket, cute skirt. Boots, because he loves them. I know, I asked his friend. Well, my friend. Our friend.

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