I spin around and leap forward, each foot pummeling into the ground. The assistant darts to the side, closing in on me in one direction. Dr. Ambrose circles to the other.
I hide behind the small shack. My heartbeat drums in my ears.
Run! Leave!
I could hop the gate, but there are spikes at the top. I’m not even sure I could pull myself up and over without getting hurt, and the assistant is waiting for me to escape the gates. And Dr. Ambrose is inside of the cemetery, getting closer to me with every second.
The knife.
I can stab him. I can finally get this over with. I can?—
The gravel crunches. I whip around.
Dr. Ambrose fists my hair and drags me between the headstones.
“You can’t do this!” I scream. Hair rips from my scalp. He adjusts his hold. My body leaves a trail of flattened grass. I bang on his arm and dig my nails into his skin. “Help!” I twist my neck. Pain shoots down my spine. “Someone, please?—”
Dr. Ambrose drops me. I collapse on the ground, then flip over onto my hands and knees, pushing myself up. He kicks me in the stomach so hard that I roll and fall into a hole.
The coffin thuds, then the lid knocks into my head. I heave, the wind knocked out of me. Somehow, I stand up. I pull the pocketknife out, flick it open, and hide it in the waistband of my leggings while accidentally jabbing my leg with the pointed tip. I’m probably bleeding, but I don’t feel it. I have to be prepared.
Dr. Ambrose jumps into the coffin, his weight crashing into the wood. He hovers over me, caging me in his darkness.
My chest deflates. His eye sockets darken like shadowed caverns in the night. He sneers down his nose.
“You’ve been obsessed with your mother ever since you found out who she was,” he says.
He unzips his pants. His peeling cock is hard, a dried corn husk shedding its skin, and my legs spread apart even as I tremble against the dirt wall. He angles forward, crowding me.
“Did you truly think you would accidentally stumble upon an old copy of your birth certificate with her name?” he asks. “You only found out who she was because I wanted you to.”
My throat constricts. I’m poisoned by his scent: disinfectant, sourness, dirt. He grips my neck. I press my arms to my side, the knife digging into my skin. I cross my fingers, pleading he doesn’t notice the weapon. Not yet.
He leers at me. “Answer me honestly, sweet one. Do you think she wanted you?”
My vision blurs. I clench my eyes shut. “Dr. Ambrose, please?—”
“She told me to abort you. Begged me, in fact. She couldn’t bear the thought of bringing another life into this cruel world. It wasn’t up to her though.”
He squeezes my neck tighter; I gulp down my spit. I clasp the knife’s handle; he doesn’t notice. He bares his jagged teeth.
“I injected my seed into her because I knew a woman like you would eventually come to me,” he says. “I’ve been experimenting for years to see whether depravity is nature or nurture, and though I’ve found evidence to steer me both ways, you, Violet, are nature.”
I grit my teeth. “No!”
“Did you know I kept her in a cage for the entire duration of her pregnancy?” His smile widens. “Of course you do. You had your idiot boyfriend steal my files. But do you know why I kept her in the cage?” He winks. “I couldn’t let her take away what’s mine. I couldn’t let you die due to some foolish attempt at mercy.”
I am not his.
I pull the knife out and ram it forward. The sharp edge cuts his chest, but before it penetrates, he grabs my wrist, cinching it midair.
I shove harder, but I can’t move.
A spot of blood seeps through his lab coat.
He smirks down at me, then squeezes my wrist tighter, and tighter, until the pain blinds me.
He’s going to crush me.
