For my children mostly.
And for the little girl hiding upstairs.
It’s them that I fight for as I take another swing, this time using the pan still left out on the side.Spaghetti sauce splatters everywhere.
The chair is used against me, hitting me over the face and chest.My stomach sinks with icy panic when I get pushed into the oven behind me.A sob slips out as I feel something dig into my side, enough to have torn skin and definitely bruise.
The man I knew to be wary of pushes me to his friend before I can get my bearings.He traps me using his arms to pin mine behind me.I’m unable to move, too trapped to even jerk my shoulders.Fear claws its way up my throat, and I begin to shake as I watch the manin front of me switch on the electric hob.
I dare not move my gaze away from the burning red ring.Or not until the man holding me shuffles me forward.Visions of my face been held down on the ring shoot through me, giving me another boost of energy to fight.I kick out, my feet on the oven’s glass doors, whilst pushing back against the man behind me.I might not be able to walk away from this unscathed, but I won’t make it easy.I’ll fight until the end.
The man behind me doesn’t loosen his grip, and I don’t stop trying to get free.Leaving the man who is buzzing with excitement to get creative.He picks up the metal meat mallet from the tub I keep utensils in on the side.He places the textured side of the mallet onto the stove before turning his baleful gaze on me.My struggles abruptly stop, and I nearly succumb to my light-headedness.Nearly.Seconds later, and that is all I give it before I continue to fight.Because only the loss of all my children will ever make me give up.
His dark brown eyes that almost look black up close, peer into mine as he clutches my neck with one hand.I don’t make it easy for him or for the man behind me.I don’t stop kicking and wiggling.
When the mallet is pressed down on my neck, an intense searing pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, shoots through me.My scream becomes unnatural, so deep and straight from my chest that I barely stay conscious.My skin immediately tightens, shrivelling up from the assault.The smell of burnt flesh hits me, and when he removes the mallet, throwing it back to the stove, the pain doesn’t stop.In fact, the cool air makes the fresh burn sting to the point I’m no longer coherent.
“Now be a good little house wife andtakeit,” he sneers, throwing me to the floor.“I might even make it good for you.”
I skid across the wooden flooring, as Black says in a teasing voice, “No you won’t.You only ever make sure it’s good for you.”
I begin to crawl toward the door before a foot is pressed down on my back, the weight vibrating as the man pinning me down laughs.“You are right.I really won’t.”
The pressure is too much and sweat begins to form all over my face when I hear a belt buckle.
He kneels down, pinning my hands behind my back in one hand, whilst another grips my head, smashing my face into the floor.
I fight.I don’t stop.I let the pain drive me.
“Check the front,” Black orders, but makes no attempt himself to move.“I think I just heard something.”
A boot appears in front of me as the man who was holding me before moves through the house.“Sir, move.We have company.A male.”
“Maybe I’ll get a two in one visit,” Black answers, sounding almost giddy as I hear him step back.
I feel breath on the back of my neck.“If you scream, I will slit his throat and make you watch the life drain out of him.”
No, no, no.
In my mind, I scream for them to run.
The front door opens and I see my son, my light, my baby.He barely steps inside before he is hit on the back of his head.His eyes meet mine as he goes down, and they widen in horror before they roll into the back of his head.
“Reid,” I wail, a sob catching in my throat.
“Tie him up,” Black demands.
“With what?”the man asks, looming above my son.
“Find something,” Black grits out, gesturing with his hand to the house.
The hands pinning mine behind me let go.My arms flop to my side, pins and needles shooting up them.My sight barely gets into focus before I’m turned roughly.A punch to the gut has the air escaping me in one painful gush.
“Sir, you should hold your phone up.She’ll be a screamer,” the man above me warns as his hands go to the button on my jeans again.
And the fight enters me once more, although there’s barely any strength behind it this time.I kick and scream, which only drains me quicker.It also makes him angrier as he hits me over and over.I can barely lift my head as I feel my jeans being tugged down.
“Sir, look who I found,” I hear, which is followed by a cry.
