Page 125 of Thaw My Heart

Love is kindness, breakfast in the mornings, holding each other close when the voices get too loud. Love is dates on the mountain to watch the sunset. Love is soft, caring, and safe. All the things that Kit taught me.

“Now, grab your things. We’re going home.”

My feet feel frozen. My heart pounds to the point of pain. I’m surprised it hasn’t burst through my ribcage.

“Did you not hear me? Grab your shit, Emma.”

I recoil at his tone, levelling my eyes at him. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… no,” I plant my feet firmly. I’m not leaving. I’m not going to go quietly.

Not this time.

He slaps me hard across the face. It burns so badly that I’m positive he’s left an imprint of his hand on my cheek. My head dizzies at the impact, throbbing from the pain.

“Now!” he commands, pointing to my bedroom.

I stagger away, holding my throbbing cheek. I make it to my bedroom door when the sound of his dark laugh stops me. What would he be laughing about?

He smiles at me from the living room, showing his teeth, and I’m fucking terrified. “You always were a dirty whore, weren’t you, Emma?”

“What are you talking about?”

He grabs a newspaper from the coffee table, holding up my bright pink vibrator. My body goes cold at the rage in his expression. Why didn’t I hide it the day I came to pack for Kit’s house?

I think some part of me found it funny… back then, at least. But right now, it’s not funny at all. There’s no hiding things from him now.

Anger seeps out of Markus as if at any moment he’s going to explode, his fists clench, and his voice shakes. “Is this why you ran away? To be a goddamn whore!”

“I’m not a whore,” I whisper with trembling hands.

He slams down the newspaper and vibrator, stalking towards me. “You’re a fucking liar,” he spits.

He goes to strike again, but I step back, hitting the wall. “Please, Markus,” I beg. My phone vibrates again, sounding louder as it collides against the wall.

He pauses, pulling his hand back to wipe the spit from his mouth. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Give me your phone.”

“No.” There’s only one person who would be calling me, and if Markus sees his name—No, I couldn’t let him have it.

He scowls, reaching for it. I push back, fighting against his hold, but as soon as he lifts the gun, digging it into my ribs, my hands rise instinctively. I’m helpless with the gun in his hand, and he knows it.

He shoves his hand into my back pocket, forcing it from me. The name Cowboy lights up across the screen. Again, again, and again. Constantly trying to call me.

Markus’s eyes darken, sucking up all the oxygen in my lungs.

“Markus, please—” I try to reason with him, but he looks like he’s going to kill me. A tear slides down my cheek.

“Well, well.” He crushes my phone under his boot, snapping it in half with a loud crunching sound. “Looks like I was right all along. It’s time to teach you a lesson about infidelity, Emma.”

My eyes widen. “Markus⁠—”

“Take off your sweatshirt,” he orders.

His words hit me. Stun me. I know exactly what he’s about to do. “Please, don’t⁠—”

“Now!” He shoves me from the wall, pushing me into the center of the living room.