3 Days by Krista Madden

was back at my throat again.
    “I bet you have pretty lips too,” he said, sniffling. “It’s been a long time since I have seen pretty lips.”
    Oh my God ! I thought. What does he want with me ?
    “Do you have pretty lips?” he asked, as if wanting an answer. I needed to find a way to get out of his grasp and doing that would require him to let go of me so I could run. But I could tell he had no intentions of letting go, not when I posed a threat to escape. The only way I was going to make him believe I was no threat was to get on his good side. I nodded “yes” in reply.
    His body went stiff in surprise to my answer. I took a deep breath to calm myself. I had to make this more believable. I nodded again. He lowered the knife slowly, cautiously. I began to turn my body around, hoping that he would loosen his grip. When he felt me moving, he tightened his grip on my mouth and pulled my back harder into his side. “Tut, tut. You wouldn’t be trying something stupid, now would you? You don’t strike me as a stupid girl. Are you a stupid girl?” he asked, now gritting his teeth, breathing becoming shallower. I shook my head “no” in response.
    “Well then, that would mean you are a smart girl, a good girl. And a good girl wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on Rocky, would she?”
    I shook my head. He loosened his grip on me and said, “If I let go of your pretty mouth, you will be a good girl and keep quiet. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” I am not your SWEETIE ! This guy was seriously pissing me off. I nodded my head. He had my back pressed against him while his back leaned on the wall to the left of the door. He slowly lowered his hand from my mouth and, when he saw that I wasn’t going to put up a fight, he turned me around to face him.
    “There’s a good girl. Now, that wasn’t so hard.” His condescending tone was like nails on a chalkboard. He kept the knife in his left hand, blocking the door with his arm. With his now free hand, he began to stroke my cheek with the tips of his fingers. I could feel the little bit I had for breakfast rise to my throat. I was dangerously close to puking, but blowing chunks in his face would most likely get me killed. I worked my hardest to hold it down. I had to get him to put down the knife if I was going to get a chance to run. I could hear Jared and Blaine calling out to me. It was getting louder, meaning they were closer to the storage room.
    I knew what this “Rocky” wanted, and he wasn’t going to get it. But I had to make him believe the opposite to keep myself alive.
    “Rocky, is it?” I whispered, now face to face with the man. His breath smelled like a brewery, and the sound of my voice saying his name made him grin just enough for me to see that his teeth were half rotten. This was going to be harder than I anticipated.
    “Yes,” he answered his breath hot on my face. I swallowed down the urge to vomit.
    As calmly as I could muster, I asked, “What is it you want from me?”
    His breathing became faster, and his only reply was a half smile and slightly raised eyebrows. Ew !
    I forced a smile in return, and leaned into him, my mouth only a half inch from his crusty ear. “I would feel way more comfortable if you would put the knife away.”
    His hand caught my throat, and I felt my chest tighten, closing off as quickly as my throat was about to. Through a choked reply, I forced out, “pretty please.” He loosened his grip on my throat, his fingers trailing to my collarbone. His eyes were full of a horrible fire. In that moment I felt as if I were lucky to have lived this long. His gaze traveled my body from my toes to my forehead, and the sick pain in my stomach worsened. He began to pull back the collar to my shirt. “Rocky?”
    “Hmm,” was his gravelly reply.
    “The knife?”
    He carefully placed the knife on a waist level shelf to his left of the door. Grasping a handful of the shoulder of my shirt with his right hand, and a handful of my