“You.” Kick. “Fucking.” Kick. “Slut!”
My side is throbbing now, and I have no doubt that my stomach is all bruised up. I wouldn’t even be surprised if my ribs were broken.
Sighing heavily, I slowly push myself up and open my eyes. It’s dark in here. The familiar glow of my alarm clock illuminating the darkness hurts my eyes, so I turn it around.
Carefully, I push myself off the bed as slowly as I can to avoid hurting myself any further.
How did I even get up here? Last I remember, I was on the floor.
Broken and bleeding. Enduring blow after blow until my body couldn’t take it anymore.
Reaching out, I feel my way around the dark room until my hand reaches the light switch. I instantly regret flipping it when the bright light fills the room and burns my eyes. I groan in pain and lean my head down as I make my way out of the room.
“Evan?” I call out into the dark hallway. “Lunchbox? Where are you, baby?”
I pause to wait for the sound of his little paws running up the stairs, but I don’t hear anything. Then I remember that I’d left him at Dante’s house. Thank God I didn’t bring him and further traumatize him.
I peer down the stairway into the dark. Is Evan passed out down there? If he is, this is probably my only chance to leave.
I look around for my phone and find it laying shattered on the floor in the bedroom. As soon as I pick it up, the whole screen falls onto the floor at my feet.
Angry tears burn my eyes, but I close them and force myself to take several calming breaths. Now isn’t the time for crying.
Turning the bedroom light off behind me, I tiptoe back to the stairs and carefully descend them into the living room. It’s so dark that I can’t even see any moonlight shining through the edges of the windows.
I call Evan’s name again, and this time, I get a response in the form of a cruel chuckle.
I scream and clutch the front of my shirt. My heart is racing so fast that I need to bend over to catch my breath.
“Evan, that wasn’t funny,” I say in a shaky voice.
“And yet, I can’t stop laughing.”
I freeze in place. My fingers are gripping the front of my shirt so hard my fingernails dig into the palms of my hands.
That’s not Evan’s voice.
Even though I can’t see, I know exactly who it is.
“Where’s Evan?” I ask in a shaky voice, slowly taking a step forward.
The man is quiet for a moment before he says, “Come here.”
I want to, so bad, but my feet are rooted to the floor. My breathing quickens; I try to take deep breaths to calm myself down, but I’m so scared right now that all I want to do is run out of this house screaming at the top of my lungs.
“Is it you?” I whisper.
“Do you want it to be me, baby?”
Do I? I’ve been so wrapped up in Dante that I’ve barely thought about the masked man after I texted him earlier.
Letting go of my shirt, I take another step forward and whisper, “Yes.”
He opens the curtains over the window behind the couch before reaching out a hand towards me. “Come here, little flower. Come see what I’ve done for you.”
As I walk further into the living room, a fire bursts to life in the fireplace. The silhouette of the masked man standing right in front of me makes a weird mixture of dread and excitement swirl in my belly.
The man gently takes my hand and gestures to something on the floor by his feet. I look down to see a large mass covered in a white sheet.
