Free Inner Demons by Sarra Cannon

tonight. A couple of drinks early in the evening was no big deal, but he was drunk. There was no freaking way I was getting into a car with him behind the wheel.
    “I can drive, baby.”
    “Not a chance,” I said. “Can you call your dad or someone to pick us up?”
    Drake snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. “Don't go yet, Harper. It's still early. Have a drink. Let loose.”
    He offered me a drink, but his depth perception must have been off because he ended up slamming the vodka-spiked punch into my arm and dumping the red juice all over Lark's white faux-fur vest. I jumped back.
    “Oh gross,” I said.
    “Dude, you just ruined her coat thingy,” Foster said with a laugh.
    “I'll buy you a new one,” Drake said. He turned and gave Foster a high five.
    I grabbed a napkin from the table and tried to wipe off some of the punch.
    “Hey, I've got a great idea,” Foster said. “We should totally get the gang together and head out to that creepy graveyard. We could take some drinks, tell some tales. It'll be awesome.”
    “Which graveyard?” Drake asked.
    “You know, the one on the far side of town. Out by the old Brighton Memorial Hospital.”
    “My curfew is in less than an hour,” I said. “I need to get home.”
    “Come on, Harper. You're no fun,” Drake said. “Come here and give me a kiss.”
    He puckered his lips and lunged toward me, but I side-stepped him. He looked hurt as he leaned against one of the poles holding the tent up.
    “Don't be a bitch,” he said.
    I'd had enough. “Sober up, Drake. Until then, stay away from me.”
    I walked in the direction of the front gate, but Drake grabbed my arm. He yanked me back hard enough to send a shooting pain through my shoulder.
    “Hey, that hurts, let go of me.” I tried to pull my arm away, but he wouldn't let go. Instead, he gripped me harder and pulled me toward him.
    “Don't walk away from me.”
    He pressed his lips on mine hard. I could feel the stubble on his face grinding against my cold skin. I pushed on his chest, but he grabbed me with both hands and continued to kiss me. If you could call that a kiss.
    I stomped on his foot as hard as I could.
    “Ow, dammit, what was that for?”
    I stared at him with disgust. How could he not know what I'd kicked him for?
    “Go then,” he said. “Find your own ride home.”
    Anger fumed up inside of me like hot ash, making my mouth go dry. I never pictured Drake acting this way, but I guess I should have known from the way he acted the first time we met that he was capable of being a real dick. I guess it was only a matter of time before his true colors began to show.
    I spun on my heel and walked to the gate, my heart pounding in my ears and my face feeling frozen from the cold wind that whipped through the area outside the main tent. I didn't run. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of thinking he'd rattled me.
    Crap. I needed a ride.
    I thought about walking, but there was no way I could make it the six miles home on foot. A small town like this didn't have any taxis, and I didn't have any money to pay for one anyway.
    I stood in the driveway looking out at the empty fields and trying to think of anyone I could beg a ride from that was still sober. Something out in the dark pasture across the road caught my eye. A spark of light? It was only an instant, then it was gone. I peered into the darkness, but headlights from an idling car made it hard to see very far away.
    I walked down the driveway to the edge of the grass and looked again. Further from the lights of the house and cars in the driveway, my eyes began to adjust to the semi-darkness. Across the road, a little ways out in the field, I definitely saw something. A car maybe. A figure. Someone smoking a cigarette, I thought.
    Jackson .
    I don't know how I knew it was him. I just did. He'd probably brought his motorcycle out here so he could listen to the music. Of course, he wouldn't have been caught dead