“I can’t wait to remind you of how much you enjoyed it.” He lets go of my hair, pulling down my leggings to expose my ass.
I seize my chance to grab a second knife from the block. “Fuck you.” I push up and slam my head back, connecting with his face.
He groans, stumbling away, but recovers quicker than I can move. Fisting my hair, he yanks me back, dragging me to the bedroom. I kick and scream the best I can. Twisting in his grip, I take the knife and swing, successfully stabbing him in the side.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses. “Fucking bitch.”
I’m thrown onto the bed, and he gets on top of me. I continue to kick and scream so loudly my lungs burn. I’m in survival mode and not thinking clearly.
He flips me over so I can’t fight him, yanking my leggings all the way down my kicking legs, knocking my shoes off in the process. My nails dig into the bedding, trying to get out from underneath him, but all it does is pull the blankets down. I can’t get a good grip.
This isn’t like the times I fought men at the motel. I wasn’t prepared for him to be here, and he was counting on that.
Taking a handful of hair, he buries my face into the bunched sheets, trying to suffocate me. My heart races as I try to breathe. My lungs burn and my strength weakens by the second. When my body relaxes, he yanks my head up, and I gasp.
“You begged me, sis. I will say this… You were hard to train at first, but in the end, I broke you. Guess I can’t take all the credit, though, huh? The Spades had you before I did. You arrived already begging to be fucked. You didn’t give a shit who the cock belonged to.”
He lets go of me, and my head falls down onto the bed. I try to get mybearings. My breathing is erratic, and my vision is blurry. My leg burns, and I feel something wet and warm underneath me on the bed. Did I pee myself? I did it once at Dollhouse, thinking it would keep them from wanting to go near me. They didn’t fucking care.
I hear him unzip his pants, then he’s tossing me onto my back. He rips my T-shirt off my heaving chest before wrapping his hand around my neck, squeezing it so tightly my eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. “It’ll be like old times, Eve. You on your knees and me fucking your face.”
A single tear falls from the corner of my eye, and he leans down, licking his way up my cheek, and I cower away from him. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll make sure he sees all the tapes…new and old.”
I reach up, grip the handle of the knife in his side, and yank it out. He sits up, screaming, and I go to stab him again, but something hits me in the side of the face, making me see stars for the second time.
“Goddammit,” he growls, getting off me.
I roll over, cradling my face, and fall off the side of the bed with a thud. It momentarily knocks what little air I had left out of me.
Blinking, my eyes begin to focus, and I look up to see him just as he stands over me. He grips my right ankle, and I twist in his grasp, slamming my free foot into the side where I stabbed him.
He drops me, and I scramble to the bathroom door since it’s the closest. The bloody knife is right by it. I could throw it at him, but that will just give him an advantage—a weapon to kill me with—and I don’t know where my gun went. I’m assuming he still has it.
So I quickly crawl on my hands and knees over to the bathroom door, grab the knife, and slam the door shut behind me. Getting up on my knees, I lock it and then fall backward.
I cradle the knife to my chest, trying to catch my breath. He can get in. That piece-of-shit lock isn’t going to save me, but it can give me an extra few seconds to catch my breath. When he gets in, I’m going to have to decide: try to fight him off or kill myself before he gets an advantage over me. He came prepared and probably has drugs on him that he’ll shoot me up with.
I won’t be that woman again. I’ll die before I allowhimto touch me. Tightening my hands around the handle, I hold the knife to my neck. If he gets in, I won’t have more than a couple of seconds.
FORTY-FIVE
KASHTON
Haidyn pulls up to her driveway, and I jump out, running into her house. “Eve?” I call out, getting no response. I rush through her living room, past the kitchen, and see a trail of blood that leads to her bedroom. “Everett?” I shout, panicking more than I already was when she ran out of Carnage.
I enter her room, and there’s blood everywhere. Signs of a struggle on the bed as her comforter, sheets, and pillows are disheveled. I follow the trail of blood to her bathroom door. There are handprints smeared all over the white wood.
“Oh, fuck,” Saint whispers, entering the bedroom, followed by Haidyn.
“Eve?” I try to open the door, but it’s locked.
I don’t even bother giving a warning. I grab hold of the doorframe, rear back, and kick the door open. The wood splinters and the door crashes against the interior wall.
She’s sitting on the floor, naked and covered in blood. She holds a bloody butcher knife in her hand, the tip pressing into her neck. I slowly kneel down in front of her. “Eve, I’m here,” I tell her softly to not frighten her.
Her wide eyes look up at mine. “I’m…sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay.” I reach out. “Give me the knife, Eve.” Her knuckles are white from gripping the handle.
