The Bratva Biker Girl
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I gasp, swaying so violently I close my eyes, expecting to hit the floor, but when I open them again, I have somehow managed to manoeuvre the TV in front of the window.
Crawling onto the four-poster bed, I lie on my back, staring at the canopy above my head, my breathing so laboured I know I am going to die. Then I draw back my legs and kick the TV as hard as my little remaining strength will allow. It rocks a little on its support, and I close my eyes. All that effort for nothing. The blackness is closing in so fast I am too weak to prevent it.
I don't hear the massive crash as the TV falls forward with its own momentum, hitting the already shattered glass and exploding outward to fall on
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