Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
It takes a second to understand what’s happening since it’s all happening so fast. I don’t even realize right away who pushed me back into the room.
Until he takes me by the throat and slams me against the wall, harder this time. Very deliberately.
It’s the cologne I recognize first, and the scent of it makes my stomach lurch while my brain explodes in panic. I should’ve known… I should have left the state.
His breath is hot, rancid, wrapping around my face when he leans in close enough for our noses to touch. “You fucking bitch. I knew I’d find you. I always said I’d find you if you ever ran away from me, didn’t I?”
I can barely choke out his name. “Eric, please.” It’s hardly a whisper.
His eyes are so hard, just the way they’ve been in my nightmares. “Please what, bitch? After making me look for you all this time.” His hand tightens around my throat, cutting off my air and making tears spring to my eyes. I hate those tears. I hate them because I know he loves them. He wants to make me cry. But he wants to do a lot worse than that, too.
“I should fucking kill you,” he hisses. “For putting me to all this trouble. Making me look like an asshole when you ran away.” He raps my head against the wall for emphasis, hard enough to make me see stars.
“Please, don’t…” Already the world is starting to go gray around the edges. I claw at his hand, but it’s like trying to pry at an iron band. No use. If anything, he squeezes tighter.
“Now, here’s what’s going to happen.” He’s eye-to-eye with me, and I can smell liquor on his breath. He’s always worse when he’s been drinking. “You’re coming with me. We’re going home. And if you’re lucky, you’ll be able to leave the house without sunglasses in a couple of weeks. Got it?”
I can’t stop the tears now. Everything in me tells me to fight, but it’s no use. Not against him. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.
Still, the thought of leaving the mall with him and going back to the hell he put me through for so long is so ugly. I’ll die there. He’ll kill me, or I’ll kill myself. Either way, I’m not suffering anymore. I can’t. I’ve been through too much to get away from him.
All of this and so much more flies through my head as he chokes me. “Answer me,” he whispers, lifting his chin, baring his teeth. “Answer me now, bitch. Got it?”
I shake my head as much as I can, just an inch or two to either side. “No.”
His eyes widen a fraction, and his already red face goes a deeper shade. “What?”
“I said no.” And I won’t cry anymore. Not because of him, not ever. “I’m not going with you.”
I know I’m in trouble even before he smiles. Before the back of his other hand meets the side of my face and sets off an explosion behind my eyes. He holds me up by my throat and hits me again, this time with a fist. Blood rolls down my chin, onto his hand once he’s split my lip.
He lets go of me, and I start to slide down the wall, but he picks me up under my arms and steadies me before backhanding me again, and this time, I can’t help letting out a cry when my head strikes the wall, and the world goes gray all over again. I end up in a heap on the floor, arms crossed over my head as he winds up for another hit.
“What’s happening in here?” It’s the salesgirl, trying to open the door. He’s standing in front of it, but she manages to open it an inch or two, just enough to see me. “Oh, my god.”
“Get the fuck out of here.” Eric slams the door shut. “Nosy bitch.”
“I’m calling the police!” I can see under the door, and sure enough, she runs off toward the sales floor. I wonder if she realizes he’ll kill me before the cops ever show up.
But he doesn’t. He settles for kicking me, his foot landing on my hip. “This isn’t over, bitch. Watch your back. You can’t hide from me.” Then he opens the door and storms out. Only when I can’t see him anymore do I let my arms fall from over my head.
The girl comes running back, hands over her mouth. “My god, I’m so sorry. I was on the other side of the floor. I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay.” I can barely speak; both lips are already swollen, bleeding all over the place. Then I realize in horror that I’ve bled all over the dress, the one I felt so pretty in, the one I was ready to buy even if I didn’t have anywhere to wear it.