Johnny & I : The Island by Daria Paus (hardest books to read txt) 📕

to play with for a few nights? All they wanted was to be in the spotlight by my side. A ticket to fame, a trophy to show off. How many times hadn't I fallen into the same trap? Thinking I'd found someone for me, only to be brought to my knees as they walked away.

"Get out." I barely recognized my voice. It was too low, too raw. But something changed in the way she looked at me. "Leave me alone before I call the cops.”

"Don't you dare."

"Then get the fuck out of here!”

She stood there, motionless and silent as I looked around for a solution that would somehow present itself to me.

"You can’t tell me to go!" Her voice rose. "You have no right!"

Before I could get away, she flung herself at me. "You’re mine.” Her hands roamed over my body, pushing their way into my clothes. I tried to move away but she clung to me, forcing herself on me.

"Nancy!"

She didn't listen and for a few seconds of panic, I considered yelling for help, but decided against it. How would that look? Her hand tugged at my belt and, somehow, she managed to open it. She grabbed my shirt and once again buttons flew as she tore it open. I caught her hand before it landed on my chest.

She yelled, so sudden and so loud that it made me freeze. She took the opportunity to snatch her hand free, and with one fluid motion, she tore my shirt off.

I'd had enough. This woman was insane and I was tired. All I wanted was to get her out of my room so I could sleep. Her hands on my skin suddenly made me feel sick.

I grabbed her arm before she had a chance to touch me again. "Get the fuck off of me," I growled. She struggled, and my hand tightened its grip. She screamed for help, stunning me. I couldn't grasp what was happening. She was the one attacking me, yet she shouted at the top of her lungs for someone to rescue her. The sound coming from her mouth made me want to press my hands to my ears. It hurt. Physically. Like my head was going to explode. I wanted my bed. Now.

Her shrieking kept assaulting my ears until I couldn't take it anymore, and in pure desperation, I yelled, "Shut the fuck up!" I dragged her toward the door. "Get out of here."

"Don't touch me!" She yanked her arm free, aimed a swift kick to my stomach, and the sudden blow took my breath away. I felt her hands on me, then a knee to my balls—and I collapsed.

It felt like an eternity of anguish before the pain faded and my mind cleared. She was with me on the floor, and above the sound of her crying, I heard the stir of people and the chatter of voices.

Nancy screamed and sobbed, scrambling away from me. She got to her feet and grabbed her coat. Then she stumbled through the door into the crowd that had gathered outside my room. I was too dazed to understand what was happening.

When Marc finally arrived, I was still on the floor.

He shoved the curious people away amid a stream of curses, and finally, the door slammed shut with a force that shook the entire room. He turned to me and his voice thundered in my ears.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. I had no idea what had just happened.

"Johnny?" Marc demanded. "What the fuck just happened?"

I shook my head, slowly getting up from the floor. Marc's eyes widened at the sight of my torn shirt and unzipped jeans.

"For God's sake!" he exclaimed. “Do you have any idea what this looks like?" He threw his hands out, shaking his head at my stupidity. “What were you thinking?”

"She—"

"She what?"

I suddenly felt too tired to even stand. Marc still shouted at me, but I couldn't listen to him. I couldn't handle this. My hands trembled as I fumbled with my clothes. Images of Nancy’s naked body flashed before my eyes. Her screams echoed in my head and I felt sick.

“Johnny?"

I stumbled to the couch, collapsing onto it. Leaning forward, I buried my face into my hands.

"Tell. Me. What. The. Fuck. Happened." Marc was in my face, his words carefully emphasized. I managed to nod and finally choked out.

"It's not what it looks like.”

Present Time

Bree

"Is she dead?"

The first sense that came back to me was the hearing. A voice, drowned by a strange high-pitched rustle reached my ears. My first thought was to cover them, to stick my head under the pillow and continue to sleep.

"She's not moving. She's dead, push her out."

Something hard touched my body, forcing it to roll to its side.

Get up, do something! A little voice in the back of my mind urged. I tried to take a breath but burst into a fit of coughs. The pressure abruptly disappeared and my body collapsed.

"Fuck! What to do with her now?" A voice hissed.

With heavy arms and a strange feeling in my belly, I fumbled in the dark to reach the lamp on the bedside table.

"Leave her, let's get out of here."

My heart started to pound. Focus, the voice snapped. I couldn't. My mind was slow as molasses. I couldn't form any coherent thought, or make sense of the growing dread inside. I wanted to scream, to get away from the wet coldness that washed over me. I couldn't breathe; my body sunk and slipped as I moved. Do something, the little voice urged. Get the hell outta here. I sucked in small gasps of breath, desperately trying to assemble any sense of thought or direction.

As I lay there letting out quivering breaths, my head slowly started to clear and everything came back to me in fragments. I coughed, spitting one more mouthful of salty liquid into the dark. My hand trembled when I touched the