Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Whoever held me under pulled me back up, their fingers still wrapped tightly around the back of my neck. That hand slid up my head, gripping my hair, tugging me back so my throat was arched and I gasped for breath.
“You stupid fucking bitch.” His voice seethed with venom and rage. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you? Did you think you could hide?” Henry chuckled sardonically. “You actually thought you could have an alias like some kind of fucking spy and hide from me?” He laughed again, this one dark and foreboding. He leaned in close and I felt his hot, humid breath move across my cheek. “Girl, I’m going to have so much fun with you tonight.”
I could see him out the corner of my eye, could see the evil smile spread across his face.
“I don’t even care about the money you stole from me.” A moment of silence passed. “Because I’m going to get that ten times over before I’m done with you.” He leaned in and tried to kiss my cheek, but I jerked my head to the side, successfully slamming my skull into his nose. He growled low. “And you know what?” he whispered, thrill and excitement in his voice. “Your junkie bitch of a mother died three days ago, overdosed on some shit she injected into her vein.”
I hadn’t cried yet, but in that moment, even though my mother hadn’t been a good parent or supportive or hell... anything, I felt tears start to form.
“Ah, thatta girl. Give me those tears. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“Fuck. You.”
He grinned and puckered his lips at me right before he used force to push my head back under the water.
I flailed, my shampoo bottle being flung into the bathtub, water continuing to splash all around me. He pulled my head up only for a second, allowing me to catch my breath before he plunged me back into the tub. My head smacked against the side of the porcelain hard enough that for a moment I was shocked, the pain and dizziness assaulting me to where I couldn’t even move.
He pulled my head out, strands of wet hair stuck against my face, obscuring my view. I felt droplets move down my forehead, but then tasted the coppery flavor of blood.
He pulled me back hard enough by my hair that I was flung against the bathroom wall, the back of my skull hitting the drywall. Pain exploded at the base and worked its way through my entire body. It claimed me, threatened to take me under. But I struggled to stay conscious, refusing to go under.
He stood, towering over me, looking down, a smile on his face.
I tried to stand up, but the dizziness and the pain in my head were too intense. He started chuckling then, crouched down on his haunches, and all I wanted to do was move away, that or kick him right in the balls.
“You know,” he said slowly, precisely, as if he wanted me to really understand each word he spoke. “I watched your mother die.” His grin was slow, deliberate, and sadistic. “I probably could’ve saved her. Hell, I could’ve picked up the phone and called an ambulance.” He shook his head slowly, his expression sobering. “But despite what a shitty mother she was, I knew this little piece of information would really eat at you, dig into your very soul.” He was silent for a moment, just staring me in the eyes. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
He could think whatever he wanted. It didn’t make a difference in the long run. Yes, I was shocked that my mother was dead, but she’d been dead to me for a very long time. She’d been neglectful, wasteful with the time we had. Drugs, random men, and booze had been what were important to her.
And if I could have, I would have left long before now. But I wanted him to think he had the upper hand. I wanted him to think telling me this made me weaker, vulnerable. He didn’t know me very well. I was a fighter, had to be with how I’d grown up and lived.
He stood then, reached behind the small of his back, and then produced a blade.
A hunting knife.
“I meant it when I said you and I are going to have some real fun time, Poppy.” He took a step toward me and I braced, knowing that no matter what happened, I would fight until the very end.
I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing I surrendered in any capacity.
“Nothing to say, girl?”
I pursed my lips. “Fuck. You.”
I watched, as if in slow motion, as he pulled his arm back. He was going to hit me.
I tensed, prepared. But as I closed my eyes, as time seemed to stand still, I heard the sound of footsteps coming closer, heavy and loud. I heard the sound of Henry grunting, a body crashing against the wall right next to me. I curled into myself, my eyes still closed, the noise deafening, surrounding me.