Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He grabs me by the throat, and leans his body weight into me, his face inches from mine as he growls, “I will cut up every”—he places the blade under my throat—“fucking inch of you, and enjoy each second.”
He moves the knife from my neck, and the next thing I know, his fingers brush the inside of my thigh. I feel the slight scratch of the blade as he trails it lightly over my skin. He moves higher, until he’s almost at the apex of my thigh. My vision swims, and I fight the urge to pass out. I cannot pass out, I cannot let this happen, I think to myself frantically.
“How ‘bout I fuck you with this knife?” He drags the blade over the juncture of my thigh, laughing as I whimper.
I can’t stop the sob that slips from my lips. I want to die. Please kill me. Please kill me. I silently plead over and over again.
He strokes my face with his fingertip before pressing the tip of the blade into my cheek. I don’t even care anymore.
“Kill me.” It’s all I can say, all I want. I am done. I’m not strong enough for this nightmare. These are the monsters that other monsters fear. They will break me beyond reparation. Black spots dot my vision. I’m so tired. I’m so cold. I just want to sleep.
His smile deepens into a maniacal grin as he places the blade against my throat. “Not yet, sweet thing.” His eyes trail over my naked body, and he chuckles. “Not until I get exactly what I want.”
He palms my breast again. His harsh movements pull at the cut on my chest, and I wince. His hand trails over my stomach. “How about I finger-fuck this pretty pussy of yours.” His fingers dip between my legs, brushing against me. I squeeze my legs closed, trying to scoot away from him, but I’m too weak. Bile rises in my throat, even as my consciousness tries to slip away. Everything in me recoils violently at the thought, battling through my foggy mind and demanding I fight this. This man has stripped me, beat me, cut me, but he will not fucking rape me. I would rather die a thousand times over.
I grab his wrist and use the last of my energy to thrust myself off the floor. The sharp edge of the knife bites into my neck. I instantly feel the hot blood rush down my throat, and I smile, falling back against the concrete. I’m so cold. My body is broken and my soul is shattered. I welcome the blackness as it consumes me.
I open the door and hear Bob’s gruff voice. “How ‘bout I finger-fuck this pretty pussy of yours?”
I feel a growl work its way up my throat as I throw the door to the freezer room open.
Rage consumes me. She is sprawled on the floor, still naked, only now, her bare skin is coated in blood. Bob has a knife to her throat, and his filthy-ass hand is sunk between her thighs.
Red. That’s all I fucking see. I‘m going to rip his fucking head from his shoulders.
I watch her fingers wrap around Bob’s wrist, and in that moment, everything seems to slow down. She violently jerks her shoulders from the floor, forcing the blade of the knife against her throat. Blood spills from the cut. Her eyes flutter closed, and she slumps back against the concrete floor.
“Fuck!” I shout, and grab Bob’s shoulder, shoving him away from her. “Get the fuck away from her!”
I look at the gash on her throat. There’s so much fucking blood. It’s trickling down her neck in a steady stream and pooling beneath her. The adrenaline jolting through me makes my head swim. I press my hand over the wound in an effort to slow the bleeding, and red liquid wells up through my fingertips.
“Tor!” I shout at her, panicking. I take my free hand and pat her face. “Victoria?”
I rip my shirt over my head and place it over the wound. It quickly soaks with blood. I trail my eyes down the long, jagged cut on her stomach. If I thought I could remove my hand without her dying, I would take that knife and slit Bob’s throat right now. He’s just standing behind me, watching her die, and that pisses me off. He knows this isn’t how we planned this. This is not what was supposed to happen.
“Get me some fucking blankets, you worthless shit!” I scream, and he calmly leaves the room.
Slipping my arms underneath her back, I pick her up and cradle her limp body in my arms.
Her lips are deep blue, her skin a listless grey. She’s so fucking cold. Shit.
Guilt consumes me. What the fuck have I done?
I rush into the medical room and lay her on the gurney. I hear footsteps running down the stairs, and Bob hurries in a few seconds later with an armful of blankets, followed by Caleb.