I don’t care about anything but getting Soren out of that fucking chair. Out of this fucking house.
I think about everything he’s done for me. Saving my life. Saving me from Jackson raping me. Risking his own life to spare mine.
“Not today, motherfucker.” The words hiss out of me as the big fucker’s hands squeeze at my throat. I claw at his eyes so hard that he lets go and blood drips down my hands and wrists. Then, I sent my palm into his nose so hard that I hear the crack and squish as it’s shoved inward.
“Fuck!” he yells and tries to get at me again through the pain, but I slip out from underneath him by sliding and rolling. I push myself up from the floor, blood on my hands and down the back of my head and neck.
I feel him still trying to come after me, but I head directly to Soren.
Nothing else matters. No one else.
“Soren,” I choke out. I look at the knife in his shoulder. If I pull it out, he’ll bleed out even more…but I need a weapon. I don’t have anything else on me. If I’d prepared more…if only I’d prepared a little more.
Too late.
I grab the handle and yank the blade out of his shoulder. Soren rouses from unconsciousness and screams.
“Die, you piece of fucking shit!” I whirl around and slash at the first body part I can. An arm. Then a leg. Then his stomach. Then he’s on the floor. He tries to grab at my legs but I grab him by the top of his hair, and send the blade straight through the side of his neck.
The man gasps, and it turns into a visceral fleshy gurgling as he reaches for his throat but can’t seem to figure out what’s happening.
I know just what to do, though.
As he struggles on his knees, I grab the blade and pull it out, sending blood from his corotid artery gushing all over the damn place.
He’s choking and sputtering. I don’t stop there. No.
“You want to cut, I’ll cut you,” I growl out at him. My body feels as hot as fire.
I proceed to cut at his face and every part of his chest that I can reach through his shirt. Slicing at his skin in quick succession. Over and over. Until his face is nothing but a bloody mess. His nose caved in and his skin covered in crimson.
Crimson red. Just like Soren.
Soren.
I need to focus on him. I need to make sure he’s okay. He’s not. I know it, but maybe there’s a chance too much damage wasn’t done yet.
The man finally falls completely to the floor face first, and I shove him until he’s flat. His gurgling breath comes to a halt, and I know he’s dead.
With a ragged breath, I turn around and rush over to Soren.
“Soren,” I say as I use the knife to cut the ropes that bind him.
He doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his head tilted down. He usually looks so big and strong, but right now he looks small and vulnerable. He’s not bleeding anymore, but I’m pretty sure that’s not a good thing.
Everything is sticky and wet.
I toss the ropes to the floor and then take his face in my hands.
“Soren, wake up. Oh, God. Please.” My voice is desperate. I’ve never felt so much pain in my chest before. Not even with my father’s death. Not my mother’s death. Not even the idea of my own death causes me such distress.
The thought of this man dying in my arms, however, makes tears burn so hot in my eyes that I can’t do anything but let them drip down my face.
“Soren,” I say louder. I pat him on the face a few times.
Reality starts to sink in. I check his pulse, fear overwhelming me, but it’s there. It’s still strong. Despite everything, his heart is still beating.
Suddenly, Soren coughs himself to life and his eyelids flutter.
