“The question is why are you two here?”
“To follow through on a promise.” Charles grins. “I said I was going to kill you so I’m here to kill you.”
“Oh, come on. She is surely going to come crawling back now that she knows she can’t have the best thing to ever happen to her. Can’t we just wrap this up in a rug and toss it into the ocean like they do to dead bodies in the movies?”
“No. But thanks for the tip.” Charles laughs. “I much rather watch your body go up in flames, though. Maybe I’ll slit her throat over your ashes.”
“Little violent don’t you think?”
“Violent? You held a fucking knife to my throat.”
“And you broke my rib. Let’s let bygones be bygones or whatever they say.”
“I rather piss on your corpse.”
“Jesus. Kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“You’re such a piece of shit.” He throws a chair in my direction. It misses, crashing into my TV, which shatters.
“I’m made of rubber, you’re made of glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”
He answers that by hurling another chair at me. I have to duck so this one doesn’t hit me. A shiver runs down my spine as it crashes into the wall behind me. I’m starting to doubt my odds of surviving this, but hey, dead or alive, Prue will get her freedom.
“Charles,” his friend says, standing up. “You don’t want someone calling the cops before we’re done with him.”
“I wouldn’t mind if someone called the cops,” I chime in.
Charles marches over to me. Since I’m not a chicken shit, I keep my feet firmly in place. His fist connects with my jaw withenough force that I’m pretty sure another hit like that has me drinking out of a straw for the rest of my life.
I have enough sense to shove him back. He stumbles two steps backwards, stunned again by my strength.
“Grab his arms,” he barks at his friend. “I don’t want him to lay a finger on me.”
“All give and no take. No wonder Prue found you to be an inadequate lover.”
He punches me in the gut as his friend walks up. His friend grabs both of my hands, yanking them behind my back.
This could’ve gone better. I probably should’ve walked in with a gun in my hands and shot Charles in his stupid fucking head the moment I saw him. Though that would’ve been harder to sell. It would’ve looked like cold-blooded murder instead of man slaughter. I really didn’t expect him to be this unhinged. I’m a fucking idiot apparently.
His elbow smashes into my stomach, so hard I almost vomit from the impact. Another hit lands against my side, followed by more to the ribs.
“Jesus,” I groan when he steps back. “How did you not kill Prue? I’m impressed she survived with her brain still intact.”
“Obviously she didn’t if she went and ran off with you.” He spits in my face as he shouts.
“Are you going to fuck me or kill me? Kind of sending mixed messages.”
He rewards my witty remark with an elbow to the head. I’m seeing stars made up of Prue’s face which makes the pain a bit more bearable.
As another blow lands against my rib, I gag, spitting up mucus or blood. Hard to tell what color it is as my vision is blurred and my body in pure agony. I’m glad I walked in here thinking my life was over already, or the fact I’m about to die might suck.
If life really does flash before your eyes when you go, I hope it slows down at the short time I got to have Prue’s attention.
“You know it’s sad, really. Your band isn’t half bad. Maybe they’ll be even better without you in it.”
I want to say something snarky back, but my air supply seems to be a little limited at the moment, so I focus on trying to breathe instead. Part of me is desperate to survive this, if only to make sure he gets locked away and isn’t able to hurt Prue again.
“That’s enough,” his friend says. “If your hands are bruised, they could pin this on you. So just finish him and let’s go.”
