Pretty Please (Nightmare Hall) by Diane Hoh

Author:Diane Hoh [Hoh, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480421936
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-08-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

JO STOOD IN THE middle of the path, gasping for breath, clawing at the cord that held the black plastic firmly in place.

It was tied too tightly. Her fingers fumbled desperately to loosen the knot. And failed.

Blowing against the plastic to force it away from her mouth and nose, Jo staggered forward, pulling, tugging, on the knot at the back of her neck. Afraid that, blinded as she was, she might misstep and find herself out on the river’s ice, she took only tiny steps forward.

Small blue and orange dots began to dance before her eyes.

Calm down, she warned herself sharply. If you panic, you’ll hyperventilate…then you’ll pass out…you’re way out here behind Butler Hall…by the time someone finds you, you’ll be long dead and frozen solid like the ice on the river. Calm down, Jo, calm down.

Continuing to puff against the plastic to keep it away from her mouth and nose; Jo gave up on the knot and focused instead on digging her fingernails into the plastic over her face. Twice, she misjudged and accidentally dug into the cuts on her face, crying out in pain.

But she kept trying.

Her efforts were futile. The plastic was tough, and wouldn’t give.

If only she had something sharp…a knife, a nail file.

She had nothing.

Something sharp…teeth were sharp, weren’t they?

Desperate for air, Jo drew in a breath, deliberately pulling the plastic into her mouth. Then she bit down on it, hard. When she had a firm grip, she ground her teeth together as hard as she could. Her jaw ached with the effort, and she gagged on the oily black slickness in her mouth.

But she kept chewing until she heard a faint ripping sound.

Her hand went to her mouth, searching for the hole.

It was tiny. The tiniest of tears, ripped into the plastic by her teeth.

But it was enough. She thrust her fingernails into the tiny tear and pulled in opposite directions with all her might.

This time, the ripping sound was more substantial, and the black plastic parted, leaving a big enough hole for her to draw in huge, grateful gulps of fresh air.

The blue and orange spots evaporated.

Continuing to pull, she ripped the plastic away from her face and yanked the divided pieces down around her neck. The sun’s brightness blinded her, and cold, fresh air surrounded her. She drank it in gratefully.

Weak and shaking, Jo sank to the ground. She knelt there, shaking, for long minutes.

When she had calmed down a little, she bent her chin to look down at the thick strips of black still wrapped around her neck. They hung there like a muffler, a grim reminder of how close she had come to death.

But…he hadn’t meant to kill her, had he? If he had, he would have tied her arms so she would have no way of freeing herself. If he’d done that, she’d be dead now. As dead as Sharon Westover….

Jo gasped. Whoa! Hold the phone. No one had said Sharon Westover was dead. They’d simply said that she had disappeared.

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