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But I'm beyond reason now, beyond fear. I twist in his grip, biting down hard on his forearm. He yells in pain and loosens his hold just enough for me to wrench free. I slam my knee upward, aiming for his groin, but he twists at the last second and I catch his thigh instead.
Jay's face contorts with fury. He lunges forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. The pain is excruciating, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. Instead, I spit in his face.
"I'll fucking kill you," he hisses, his eyes wild with rage.
"Do it then," I snarl back. "Because if you don't, I swear I'll end you."
“Not yet.” He punctuates his words with a heavy punch that crumples me to the floor and makes me moan in agony. A kick follows that, hitting me right in the ribs, forcing the air and fight right from my chest. “Not yet.”
I moan and writhe on the ground, and for a time, Jay leaves me there like some wounded animal. Then he grabs me by the hair and pulls, forcing me to scramble and make my battered body stand. The second I reach my feet, he wraps a hand around my throat. Not too tight — I can still breathe — but tight enough that one squeeze will make me see stars.
“I’m not going to kill you yet, Emily.”
“Fuck you,” I spit, and he laughs. “Someone will come looking for me.”
His laughter grows, and his grip tightens. For a time, all I can do is stand there, struggling to breathe while he mocks me.
“No one is going to look for you. Not for a long time.”
“Hunter…”
“From what I heard coming from your apartment, he doesn’t give a shit about you.”
“Maggie will—”
Jay tuts his tongue. “I had a friend go by the pharmacy. They found out that you’re off for a few days so you can finish that paper of yours. Which means your friends know that, too. They all think that you’re holed up in your apartment, chained to your desk to finish that paper. And your legal problems, that thing that, if you missed it, would cause the police to come looking for you? Well, that’s gone, too. No one is going to come looking for you. You’re nothing right now. You’re nothing and you have no one, Emily. No one.”
A painful squeeze envelops my heart at each word that drips from Jay’s cruel mouth. He’s right — Hunter doesn’t give a shit about me, and my friends think I’m busy — I have no one.
No one who’s going to look for me.
No one.
I’m alone, and I’m going to die alone.
The one person who might’ve come looking for me, the man I used to love and maybe still do, can’t get far enough away from me because of my foolish mistakes. My choices. My decisions. I made this nightmare happen.
Tears leak from my eyes. A few drops at first, but then Jay loosens his grip on my throat — such a kind gesture — and suddenly I have the breathing room to truly sob.
Jay's smile widens as he watches me break down. He releases my throat entirely, and I collapse to my knees, my body wracked with sobs. The concrete floor is cold and unforgiving against my skin, but I barely notice. All I can feel is the crushing weight of despair.
"That's right, Em," Jay croons, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Let it all out. No one's coming for you. No one cares."
His words twist the knife deeper, and I curl into myself, trying to make my body as small as possible. I want to disappear, to fade away into nothingness. Anything would be better than this hellish reality.
Jay's smile widens as he watches me break down. He releases my throat entirely, and I collapse to my knees, my body wracked with sobs. The concrete floor is cold and unforgiving against my skin, but I barely notice. All I can feel is the crushing weight of despair.
"That's right, Em," Jay croons, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Let it all out. No one's coming for you. No one cares."
“Why don’t you just kill me now?” I gasp.
“Like I said: it’s not time, yet. Your paper isn’t due for a little over a day. I want to keep you until then, so that the final deadline can pass you by and you can feel that failure and know that your dream is dead. In every way, you will die alone and a failure.”
His words twist the knife deeper, and I curl into myself, trying to make my body as small as possible. I want to disappear, to fade away into nothingness. Anything would be better than this hellish reality. My tears puddle on the floor. Then that puddle forms a tiny trickle of a river that gradually works its way through the slanted cracks in the concrete floor to find its way to the drain.
“Oh, you look so beautiful right now. Please, smile for the camera. I want to get your face on tape,” he laughs and gestures to a small glass lens set in the ceiling.
I don’t answer. I can’t without sobbing. Instead, I curl away from him and keep my weepy eyes on the floor.
