Page 84 of Dark Notes, Volume Two

She must be insane because I know Jett never had any use for her beyond sex.

“Is that so, Samantha? This is how I see it. He was done using you. The only way you could even get him to fuck you again was to drug him. Even then he lied there. He wasn’t an active participant. Jett was literally a victim of rape. You had to rape him, and he willingly fucks me. That’s the difference between us.”

Marc grabs me by my hair and holds my head in place while Samantha steps forward with an evil glare in her gaze. Her breathing is heavy as she seethes and it’s then that I spot her hand.

Fuck.

She has a knife.

18

Chapter Fifty-Eight

MIA

The slash across my face is quick, and painful. Blood drips down my cheek to my chin and into my t-shirt. I don’t fight back because if I do, they will zip tie me. Tears spring to my eyes running down into the blood as Samantha laughs, appearing satisfied.

“You’re going to die anyway, but even if you didn’t, you’re ugly now. Fat. And. Ugly.”

Marc yanks my head back further and pushes three fingers into my mouth until I start gagging, nearly vomiting.

“Remember how you used to make my cock feel so good? Dirty fucking whore.”

He removes his fingers from my mouth, draws his hand back and punches me in the face, repeatedly. After three times, I lost count and can feel myself close to losing consciousness. I have to do something before they kill me because Jett might be home soon and if he comes in, they might kill him too. I’m tired of being afraid, death will be welcome for me but Jett just started living clean. I’ll protect him with my life.

“Get her clothes off,” Marc orders Samantha.

I try to keep my eyes open and beg, “Can I go to the bathroom first? Then do whatever you want to me, I don’t even care anymore.”

He arches an eyebrow and I think he’s going to refuse me so I say, “Please. I’m going to pee my pants.”

His face shows disgust as he directs Samantha, “Take her to piss. I don’t want her to lose control of her bladder while I’m fucking her.”

She grabs me by the hair and pulls me to the floor causing me to yelp in pain before yanking me back up to my feet.

“Let's go. I want him to hurry up and fuck you so I can kill you. That’s the deal. And the second you’re dead, Jett will need someone to help him through his grief. I’ll be that person until he figures out it was me he loved all along.”

This bitch is fucking crazy. There is no way Jett will go back to her after she kills me.

We walk up the stairs and she says, “Where’s the bathroom?”

I point to the closed door that’s Jett’s master bedroom with a grin she can’t see because she’s behind me. She didn’t know where his room is so she has clearly never been here. That information brings me joy I should not feel with a beaten and cut face.

I open the door, and walk to the bathroom and she pushes my back and I almost fall again. She kicks me in the back of my leg and I stumble again. It’s taking everything in me to not fight back but I need to catch her off guard. If she’s able to call out to Marc I will be in big trouble. I might be able to fight one at a time but not both at once.

Making my way over to the toilet, I undo my pants and luckily for me she turns around instead of watching me. Her mistake. Grabbing my knife, I tuck it into the cup of my bra while I do my business. When I’m done, I stand quickly, do up my pants and grab the knife from my bra and hide it at my side.

“I just need to wash my hands then we can go. I promise you, you don’t know him like you think. He’s a monster and I guarantee you're next. He’s going to beat you and rape you just like me once you have served your purpose to him.”

She turns the faucet on and says, “Hurry up stupid bitch.”

I turn the hot water all the way on and turn the cold water off. Something I know but she doesn’t is that the water in this bathroom is very hot and Jett keeps talking about getting a plumber to fix it.

I reach up beside her like I’m getting a towel from the rack beside her head but instead grab her long hair and slam her down to the sink, hitting her head on the faucet repeatedly before shoving her face under the scalding water. She tries to pull away from me but she can’t because I have her pinned against the porcelain. I am not a killer but I have no choice. It’s her or me. And dead Samantha is much better than an alive one. I plunge the knife into the side of her throat before pulling it out and doing it again.

And again.

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