Get Echo sneak peek!

     She didn’t want his help; she wanted to get rid of him. With a sinking feeling she realized that she had no idea where she was going, and the house was huge. If he didn’t show her where it was, she feared she may vomit all over the untainted carpet. So she simply shrugged and smiled, letting The Boy take her hand in his as he pulled her gently towards the stairwell. She stumbled after him, doing her best impression of a sober person. She knew she wasn’t fooling anybody when she tripped and nearly biffed it on the fourth step. Luckily, everyone was just as hammered as she was, and no one noticed.
    “You okay there?” The Boy asked as they reached the top of the stairs. He squeezed her hand and Echo closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as a wave of nausea hit her. She doubled over but didn’t vomit. “Easy,” The Boy said, sounding nonchalant. She felt him grab her under the arms and haul her to her feet. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
    All she could do was nod as he half dragged her down the hallway. They stopped at a closed door, and The Boy knocked. When no one answered, he pushed it open and hauled her in, shutting the door behind them. She heard a small, pin like click as he locked it. She forced herself to open her eyes, confused. Her vision was blurred, and the room was spinning around her. She knew she was drunk, but there was no fooling that this was not the bathroom. Before she could say a word, The Boy hauled Echo to her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly his lips were on hers, engulfing her mouth. Shocked, she tried to push him away.
    “What are you doing?” she gasped. “Don’t.”
    “Just relax,” said The Boy. She automatically tensed up as he smashed his lips to hers again, this time pushing her backwards toward the bed. She dropped the drink in her hand to fight him off. It fell to the floor with a dull thud and rolled a few feet before stopping, spilling all over the nice beige carpet. Echo shrieked as she stumbled backwards over something, landing hard on the bed. Frantically she tried to sit up, but The Boy took his chance and pushed her down hard.
    “Let go of me.” She tried to kick him away, to struggle free, but The Boy held her down. He was fierce and determined…suddenly dangerous. Once again she could smell the cologne and alcohol on him, and she wanted to gag. She tried to scream but The Boy covered her mouth with his hand. It was even more clammy, disgusting, and gross. She felt like she would never escape his hold.
    “Please…” she begged. Somewhere inside of her, terror was pulling at her chest. She couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. She was helpless now, a victim. Tears rolled down her face. They were warm, salty tears, all too familiar. The Boy didn’t notice that she had now stopped struggling as he reached for her pant zipper. His grasp hadn’t loosened, his rough hands digging into the sensitive curves of her neck and shoulders. She had a fleeting thought that his rough handling would probably leave bruises up and down her skin.
    What will Uncle Michael think?
    He was heavy upon her, his body is pressing into Echo’s like chiseled stone, crushing down on her groin and abdomen. She couldn’t breathe, and she was certain that no amount of struggling would free her. She closed her eyes and laid there, turning her head away, anguish and torment pulling at her heart and her innocence. She might as well be dead.
    She wished she was.