When the fifth one buries itself in her leg, when he starts treating her like a target, that’s when my thrashing finally tears the rope from my wrist.
And I snap.
The last cord tears, but I don’t hear it over the blood rushing in my ears. My feet are still bound. The chair is still bolted to the floor. But my arms are free now. That’s all I need. That’s all the monster inside me needs.
I lunge. The chair scrapes forward with the force of my movement, metal screaming against concrete. He turns just in time to see me flying at him.
We crash. Hard.
His back slams into the wall. The knives spill from his box. One slices across my ribs, but I don’t feel it. I don’t care. I grab the first thing I can—his throat, his shirt, his smug fucking face—and slam us both to the floor.
He thrashes like a demon. Tries to stab. Tries to scream. But I’m already on top of him, teeth clenched, hands raw from rope burn and rage.
“Die,” I growl, and drive my elbow into his jaw. “Die, you scum.”
Bone cracks. He chokes. Blood spatters across my shoulder.
But he’s stronger than I thought. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s the mania. He rolls with me, and we tumble—chairs, knives, limbs all tangled in a feral brawl.
He ends up on top. Shoves something into my mouth.
At first, I think it’s his fingers. Then I realize—it’s pills. The same ones he’s been playing with this whole time.
Bitter, chalky tablets jammed between my teeth.
I bite down.
He snarls. “Swallow them.”
I spit blood and foam into his face.
He punches me in the ribs. Once. Twice.
Pain tears through me. I gasp.
That’s when he takes advantage. Shoves more pills in. A whole handful. Presses his palm over my mouth, pinches my nose shut, and uses his elbow to force my jaw up.
I swallow them.
Because I need air.
Because I need to keep going.
But they hit fast.
My body is already breaking—no food, no water, heat exhaustion, blood loss. The pills don’t need long.
The room tilts. My limbs seize. Everything slows.
He laughs as I collapse.
He thinks I’m finished.
But he makes one mistake.
He leans in close.
I grab the nearest throwing knife and drive it into his hand. The same one he used to throw with. I twist until the bones snap.
