“She was… She was sweet,” I agree with a sniffle.
“She was only a substitute.” He nuzzles me, and I feel his hips circle near my butt. I bite my knuckle to keep from telling him to stop. “It was always you I wanted, but I wasn’t ready yet, so I started watching her, and do you know what happened? She watched back. She invited me to sit with her, offered me half of her stupid fucking sandwich.” His words grow clipped. “I knew the moment she made eye contact with me that she would die. Do you know how many girls I’ve killed because they look like you?”
A whimper leaves me.
“Seven.” He says the word slowly right near my ear so there’s no way I could avoid it. “Dark hair, blue eyes,” he accuses, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “Did you think some bleach would make me forget you and what you let him do to me?” he shouts. His body is actually trembling.
“I didn’t let anyone do anything to you,” I plead.
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t know or didn’t hear me crying for my mom.” He punches me in the side, and a hot flash of pain makes me shriek.
“I don’t know. What you. Are talking about,” I say through stilted sobs.
“You let him hurt me so he wouldn’t do it to you,” he spits and begins slamming his forearm down on my back and punching me in a messy barrage of fists.
I squirm and wiggle, trying to get away, but I only end up on my side with him still on top of me. Instinct has me covering my head and face as much as I can while I curl up into a ball in an effort to make myself small, but it doesn’t stop the blows.
Pain explodes in the side of my face and ear, and I learn what it means to see stars. For the next few seconds, I’m deafened by a roaring sound in my head before things start to get fuzzy.
Everything hurts to the point where I can no longer identify individual blows. My stomach rolls, making me think I’m going to hurl. Stupidly, the thought of not wanting to puke on myself courses through my head before all my thoughts scatter. I know I’m on the verge of passing out, and a very big part of me wants to let it happen and pretend I’d only be falling asleep, but even now, I acknowledge that for the lie it is. Do I really want to give up this easily and let him win?
He’s panting at this point, and his strikes are slowing, becoming less forceful. Every drop of his fist still hurts like hell, but it isn’t the mind-numbing pain it was. I force myself to golimp, hoping he’ll think he either knocked me out or, better yet, killed me.
He recognizes the shift almost immediately, either that or he just pushed himself to exhaustion at the same time, because he collapses on my back. I have to fight every instinct in my body not to tense up. I think the fact that every muscle hurts helps.
As he catches his breath, clarity comes. I want to live, and faking my death isn’t going to be enough. I have to find a way out of this house.
His weight eases off me, and I fight the urge to release a sigh or suck in the greedy breath my lungs long for. He steps on my calf as he rises then kicks me in retaliation when he nearly trips. “Stupid bitch.” He’s still winded, but so am I. Now isn’t the right time.
His boots are heavy on the old wooden floors, eliciting creaks as he begins to slowly pace up and down the hall. There’s a muted thud or two, followed by him muttering, “Get it together.” He nears again, and I lie motionless, praying he’s just making another pass. He kicks my legs, and the suddenness of it works in my favor, so my leg slides along the floor with no resistance.
Once he continues on his path, I slit my eyes open just enough to see the very top of his head as he’s walking away. My hands tense on the floor as I prepare to push myself up. If I don’t get up now, I may never have the chance again.
A whimper I can’t stifle leaves my pinched lips the moment I lift my torso off the ground. The pain slows my movements, but I don’t let it stop me from getting my knees under me. I’m tempted to look over my shoulder, but fear and adrenaline keep me moving forward.
“Harlyn!” he roars, making my already trembling legs feel weaker. Coordination isn’t my friend as I make a bid to reach the door. I spy an old brass umbrella stand and reach for the wooden hook handle of the umbrella leaning to the side to useas a weapon instead of going for the deadbolt. I twist to the side, holding the umbrella in my grip to somehow keep him at bay while fumbling for the lock with my other hand.
The glint of a knife draws a scream of terror from me as I make weak poking motions toward him. I back into the corner, still scrabbling with the door lock, then I hear the latch give way, but he’s too close. I’m not going to make it outside. I go into a frenzy, yelling and throwing the only weapon I have. He bats the umbrella away with ease, and it drops uselessly to the floor. I try to pick up the brass stand, but it’s too damn heavy and ends up just tipping on its side and rolling in a lazy arc. He pushes the thing behind him with his foot, never slowing his approach.
“I should have killed you when I killed your sister. You’re nothing,” he yells, spit spewing from his snarling mouth.
“Fuck you,” I yell. He moves so fast, I barely see it, let alone try to move out of his way. The weight of his blow lands before the sharp pain registers. We both freeze. My mouth falls open, but the only thing that escapes is an exhale. His eyes dance back and forth between mine in excitement.
He takes a step back and looks down, the hilt of his knife is protruding from above my hip. I wish I couldn’t see it, because it might not hurt as badly if I didn’t, but it’s impossible. I slip down the door, yelling out in pain when my ass hits the floor, and I jar the blade.
Without missing a beat, he reaches for my foot and jerks me down so I’m flat on my back. Darkness flashes in my eyes, covering my vision, but I’m not lucky enough to pass out. He lifts my leg, preparing to drag me, and the pain is so bad, I kick out with my other foot to get him to release me. He’s bent over, so my heel ends up nailing him just under the chin. His head jerks back, forcing him to drop my leg. I release another scream but open my eyes in time to see his arms cartwheeling.
There’s a metallic skittering sound as the can of bug spray slams into the wall. The next second happens in slow motion. His face contorts in shock as he tries to reach behind himself and brace his fall. If I lived one hundred years, I don’t think I would ever be able to forget the noise that comes next. It’s soft and wet, but there’s a pop, like when you start to cut into a warm watermelon and it splits at the same time.
His legs begin to thrash and shake as if he’s having a seizure, and the heels of his boots bounce off the ground for ten seconds before he goes utterly still.
I close my eyes. I’m suddenly freezing, and the worry about what might happen next starts to slip away.
CHAPTER 30
Boone
Icheck the map on the screen for the tenth time. It’s hard to believe Harlyn would pick a place so far off the beaten path after everything she’s gone through. The woods aren’t necessarily dense, but the homes are spaced pretty far apart.
