Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I hold my head in my hands. How can I trust any type of law enforcement after knowing what the North Woods police department let happen? The violence, the selling of girls. They let Safe Harbor do horrendous things for so long, that when it came to breaking the law, no one could touch them. I decided against calling the police and pushed the thought away. I don’t need any crooked, corrupt cops, helping me.
I couldn’t bring myself to leave and go to work this morning, not knowing I would have to walk over that same parking lot where last night’s events took place. The thought alone makes my stomach churn. I haven't been able to eat anything other than crackers, since lunch yesterday, which sucks since I know I’m hungry.
It's going to be okay. I try and tell myself even though my body refuses to accept that response, hell, even I know that's not the truth. It took me two years to get to feeling somewhat okay, and now I’m back to square one. I can't let myself live in constant fear. I know I can do this. I just need to get my shit together. Deep breaths. I inhale and exhale harshly trying to focus on happy thoughts but every time I close my eyes, I see that man falling to the ground. I hear the sound of the gun being shot, and I see the killer’s dark gaze piercing mine.
I wish yesterday didn’t happen. I’m so tired, my body is sore, and my mind is in complete disarray. And even though I doubt I can sleep I still curl up on my bed, pulling the blanket up over my body hoping to at least catch a few hours of sleep.
I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing, slowing down my erratic heartbeat. I feel myself drifting off, sinking into that state between awake and asleep. I burrow deeper into the pillow, praying for even a moment where I can relax, when the sound of glass shattering has me sitting straight up in bed, my eyes wide, my body once again on high alert.
I jump out of bed, almost falling on my ass as I get my foot tangled up in the blanket. I’m going to die and all because I was stuck on the floor with the damn blanket wrapped around my feet. I stumble across the floor, my gaze swinging around for some kind of weapon. When my eyes land on the lamp on the bedside table I grab it by the bottom and tighten my grip on it. It might not do much damage, but it should be enough for me to get a head start, and out of the apartment. The sound of heavy boots slapping against the floor bounce off the walls. I’m about to have another panic attack, when I realize said footsteps are headed right toward me. I start to breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling rapidly. My hand is sweaty, and I nearly lose my grip on the lamp.
Fuck. Oh, god, no.
I flatten myself against the wall behind the door, hoping I can catch the intruder off guard. I hold my breath as the door swings open and the light is switched on. Why is he turning the light on? I’m momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness—that explains the lights, asshole wanted to blind me— but that doesn’t stop me from swinging the lamp like a baseball bat and hoping to hit him somewhere where it counts. It hits him directly in the head, right where I had wanted.
He grunts, a slew of curses follow, and he stumbles backward but doesn’t pass out as I had hoped he would. Instead he swings around with a snarl just when I try to push past him and run out the door. As soon as our gazes collide and the darkness in his bleeds into mine, I know I’m in trouble. I recognize him instantly as the man from last night.
“You’re going to fucking regret that, bitch,” he growls at me, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me away from the door. I try and pull away, scratching at his face with my nails but all that earns me is a hard slap to the face. I stumble backward with the blow and he takes that moment to push me onto the bed. I watch in horror as he pulls a knife from his pants.
“You gonna start behaving or am I gonna have to start cutting you up?” His voice is menacing, and terror rains down on me.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, spitting right in his face, uncaring if he’s going to hurt me or not. What he doesn’t get is that I’m not going to stop fighting. Ever. I don’t care what he threatens me with, or what he does. I will not back down. I survived once before. I’ll survive this too.