AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No.”
He laughs. “Liar. Drive to your house. I wanna see where a pretty thing like you sleeps at night. Maybe fuck you on your pretty bed. Bet you haven’t had anyone fuck you the way I will.” His fingers squeeze my throat while he relaxes against the seat.
My heart pounds, but inside me, something grows. Something wicked and hate-filled. If he wants to see where I live, I’ll let him.
Twenty minutes later, and I’m pulling up to my place. He forces me out, pushing me toward my home.
“Get the keys out.”
His hand clutches my hair as I quickly do what he wants. Seconds later, and we’re inside.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
I point left, and he roughs me toward that direction. I wonder if he has a weapon, because I do, and when he drops his guard, I’ll use it on him. Slowly, I open the flap of my handbag, fingers reaching inside, retrieving a flip knife.
When we’re in my bedroom, he turns me around. As he does, I open the blade and instantly swipe it across his cheek.
“You little bitch!” he roars, rushing for me.
But I bypass him, my pulse trembling, not knowing how this will end.
Will he kill me? Or will I kill him?
There’s an adrenaline rush here, fear swirling with fury as I lunge for him with a guttural scream.
As I do, he flips me and wraps his forearm around my throat and squeezes. The knife tightens in my grasp, my lungs growing hot as I gasp for breath.
My hand trembles as I raise it behind me, hoping to claw his eyes out, but he grabs my wrist and attempts to get the knife from me.
He almost does too, but as he backs up, he trips against the chair.
That’s all I need to escape from him. As he stumbles onto the floor, I jump on top of him and stab him in the throat.
Roaring on a cry, I plunge the blade over and over, his blood spilling until my hands are covered in crimson, until his life has left his body.
He’s dead now.
Yet I’m shaking.
Crying too. I think.
Blood. So much of it.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. How I’ll explain this to Michael again. He’s going to kill me. There’s no way I can call him. But what other choice do I have? I don’t have anyone else to help me.
“Step away from the body,” says someone I immediately recognize. Same deep, gravelly tone sending shudders down my spine.
With a shaky breath, I turn, facing the man in the hood standingbefore me.
But this time, I see his face—or should I say, the taunting mask he wears? Was he wearing it that day in the parking lot of the club when Ivy was attacked? If he was, I didn’t see it.
The mask sends a curling level of fear streaming through my limbs. All white. No mouth on it, except the shape of a nose, and two black eyes where no one can see the pupils beneath. And on each one is a red bloody vertical slash, like it’s been clawed right down to its cheek.
Terrifying. That’s the only way to describe it.
Who is this man? What the hell is he doing here? Is he gonna turn me into the police?
Oh, God. I can’t go to prison.
