“You’re wrong! You’re fucking wrong!” He sounds like a petulant irate child. And I realize that’s all Steven ever was. I was the only one he never had gotten his way with. And like a child who is denied their favorite toy they rebel by kicking and screaming.
And while I don’t know how many bullets are left in his chamber, if I keep provoking him he’ll continue to waste his bullets.
It’s an irrational and fucking risky plan but it’s the only one I have when I’m wounded with only a knife to protect me.
“You aren’t a man at all, Steven!” I goad him and I hear him scream in frustration. “You’re a child. A fucking child who can’t accept that he lost.”
“No!” He wildly fires off two more shots in different directions.
“You’re pathetic,” I seethe. “You had to force yourself upon women because no woman in her right mind would want a sick fuck like you.”
Two more shots ring out and they echo in my chest. I try not to rattle as I hear him pacing back and forth on the other side of the island. “I’ll show you fucking sick when I get my hands on you. Maybe I’ll fuck you while I’m blowing your fucking brains out!”
Bile presses at the back of my mouth and I have to swallow it down. The knife I hold in my hand shakes as my body trembles. Adrenaline seems to be running out and I feel how tired my body has become. It’s the crash that I’m afraid will be the end of me.
Rising from my position I book it to the front door. I know I will be no match against him physically. My knife against his gunwill lose every time. I’m not as capable as Haven and I’m not as skilled as Alice. But I am sensible enough to run for safety.
I run as fast as my short and tired legs can carry me. And I hear him heavy on my heels. I know he won’t kill me when his plans have changed. And I’ll fucking kill myself before I ever let that man defile me.
Just as I open the front door with the sun blinding me a shot rings out and lands in my calf. It brings me down face first on the blacktop driveway.
The rough texture of the concrete causes an abrasion along my cheek and chin. When the air hits it, it stings.
Grimacing, I pull myself up, grabbing my knife, and limp towards the end of the driveway. My leg drags behind me, feeling like dead weight.
My hair gets pulled from behind me and my head snaps back. Bleary eyes meet crazed ones. He dislodges the knife easily from my scathed hand. And as I thrash and kick about he drags me back inside the house, all while I’m screaming for bloody murder.
Kicking open the door he throws me inside and I land on my side. Pain vibrates all up and down my body but I refuse to let it consume me. Gritting my teeth, howling in pain, I begin to pick myself back off the floor. But a shoe to my chest slams me back down. It knocks the wind out of me and I’m momentarily stunned. Before I can think to get back up Steven straddles me.
He presses the gun to my temple while he sneers down at me. “You ruined my life.”
“You did it yourself,” I manage to spit back at him with as much venom as I can muster.
With all his weight on top of me and all the severe injuries I’ve gained I can’t buck him off of me. He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. Tears blur my line of vision.
My mom had always said that all my fighting would leave me dead.
I never once thought that to be true.
But now I can’t escape the threat of death.
“Don’t cry, Grace,” he hushes me in a lulling voice that provides no soothing. “I’m finally going to get what I want and then we will both be free.”
With the cold metal of the gun still pressed to my head he removes his hand around my throat and trails it down my body tauntingly.
Acid climbs up my throat as I feel myself about to become sick.
Blood continues to pool from my shoulder and calf. Excruciating pain sends shocks like voltages all through my bloodstream.
And as his fingers brush against my entrance there’s a small part of me that dies.
There’s a victories smug smile on his face that I want to slash off. And the anger is what I hold onto. Not the pain. Not the sorrow. It’s the anger that has me seeing red and turning feral. It’s the anger that gives me all the strength I have left to bite down on his forearm until the taste of metallic floods my mouth. He releases the gun against my head, wrenching his arm back for protection. I reach for the gun the same time that he does.
We both scramble for the gun. It’s a fight for survival and we both know it.
“Stop fighting you fucking bitch,” he bites between clenched teeth. His hand comes down and whacks me powerfully across the face. “Let me have what I fucking want.” Darkness creeps in my line of vision. God, my head feels too fucking heavy.
I hate how this is going to be my end. The last image I’ll ever see is him and I fucking hate it. The last thing I’ll ever feel is him. The last words I’ll ever hear is his.
