The Broken Angel He Claimed

Angela's POV

One of my friends came running down the hall, breathless. "Angela! Ms. Miller's looking for you in the art room."

"Ms. Miller? Really? What for?" I asked.

"No idea," he shrugged. "Maybe some project or whatever. You better go see for yourself."

"Ugh... fine. I'll go check it out."

Seriously, couldn't she pick a better time? I should be heading to the hospital to see Mom... yet, curiosity pushed me down the nearly empty hallway. Almost everyone had already left.

When I reached the art room, no one was there. Only messy tables, streaked with dried paint.

"Ms. Miller?" I called out.

No answer.

Either my friend messed up, or she'd already left. I sighed, about to turn away...

Then it happened.

Before I could reach the door, a hand slammed over my mouth-rough and sudden. I froze in panic.

"Shhh."

The whisper brushed against my neck, and I couldn't move. My chest tightened, and panic shot through me.

"Don't fight. Stay still," he muttered close to my ear.

My heart skipped. When he released my mouth, I spun around quickly to see who was in the room with me.

"I-Ian?" I choked out. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer. He just pulled a key from his pocket and locked the door. The click made me flinch, and I felt a cold wave of dread.

"Damn, Ian! What the hell are you doing?!" I shrieked.

His eyes pinned me. Dark. Unreadable. He stepped closer, and I retreated until the table dug sharply against my hips.

"You've been blowing me off like I don't matter, Angela. I'm done being ignored."

"Move!" I tried to push by, but he caught me instantly.

"You don't get it!" he snapped. "I've had enough!"

His push came without warning, hard enough to send me crashing to the floor. Pain shot up my back as he pinned me under his weight before I could even struggle.

"You're mine, Angela," he breathed, hot against my ear.

"Get off!"

"Quit fighting," he hissed, his hand sliding from my face to my neck. "You're only making it harder."

Panic surged when he shoved a rag into my mouth. I thrashed, but his weight locked me in place. My body screamed with every futile movement.

Tears stung my eyes as I shoved at him, desperate to get him off. His hands had crossed the line, he even tried to undo the buttons on my shirt.

No. No. Please, no.

I shook my head hard, tears streaming, but he didn't let up.

With the last bit of energy I had, I kicked out wildly and desperately. My foot hit him, and he jerked back with a snarl. For an instant, I had time to breathe-a small triumph.

This was my chance. I made a run for the door, my heart racing as adrenaline surged through me. My fingers clawed at the rag until it came free.

"Help!" I screamed, pounding the door with my hand. My throat burned,