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“You fucking bitch. I should've killed you long ago,” he croaks.
I stand over his large form laying face down on the kitchen floor. Blood begins to pool around us.
“Kidnapping me was the biggest mistake you ever made Cole,” I say with such a steady, calm voice I don't even recognize. I bring the knife up once more, but before I land another strike my leg is pulled out from under me and I smack the floor hard with my elbow slamming first causing me to lose my grip on the knife. A quick burst of panic startles me. Oh no. I twist onto my stomach reaching out for the knife when Cole grabs my leg again pulling me towards him.
“Get the fuck off me!” I yell, trying to kick him. He manages to subdue my legs and crawls halfway onto my body. His blood is dripping all over me. Despite his weakened state, it’s going to take a lot more to stop his large, towering form. Oh God.
“I have you underneath me again, whore. It's over.”
Blood drips out of his wicked mouth. He brings his fist back before it collides with my face, causing my vision to blur and spin.
No. I can't let him win.
“Fuck you!” I yell as I sink my fingers deep into one of his stomach wounds and he howls in agony. Cole’s pause gives me a chance to wiggle away enough to reach the knife.
He yanks my hair pulling me back and then his hands find my throat squeezing harder than he ever has, surely intent on killing me this time, but he fails to notice that I have the knife again.
I swing the knife up like I once did with that broken plate all those months ago in the basement. This time though, this time it hits its mark.
The knife sinks into the side of Cole’s neck like slicing into warm butter with smooth satisfaction.
His eyes go wide and he instantly lets go of me, falling back onto his ass and holding his neck. Blood pours out between his fingers.
I'm not taking any chances though.
With the knife still in my hands I shove him down on the floor as I straddle his thick body and I begin repeatedly stabbing him. All the memories of the cabin coming back to me in vivid detail.
Every touch, every cruelty, every painful agonizing moment.
Crimson droplets splatter across my arms, body and face. I stare Cole in the eyes as I continue sinking the blade into him over and over and over.
I watch the life fade from his eyes, causing a twisted, blood soaked smile to grow across my mouth.
I finally stop and collapse to the floor catching my breath. My arms are spent and I can barely lift them to wipe the red fluid coating my face.
Warm gore begins to soak into my hair as I lay on the tiled floor. I need to call the police.
Covered in blood, I make my way to the phone on the counter and make the call. I then stand for a moment longer looking over at Cole and what remains of him. I had no idea I could be capable of such brutality. Maybe no one does until someone like Cole serves as a catalyst to bring our dark side to the light.
I hear Henry meow as he comes into view, stepping across Cole’s body and all through the gore on the white tiles, leaving small bloody paw prints through the kitchen as he makes his way to me. I pick him up and run back to Callum’s body and wait for the police.
Epilogue
Lana
6 Months Later
What we had wasn't a quintessential love. Our love was born in darkness, forged in chaos and pain, shattered and reassembled with tears and promises.
Losing Callum was unlike any pain I've ever known. Worse than the torment I felt in that cabin years ago. I loved Callum with a fierceness I didn't know I had. I miss him. I'm always missing him but some days are so much easier to deal with that longing. Some days I can miss him and remember the good memories and simply be okay. Other days it’s unbearable and the pain feasts on the void that his absence has left inside me and it takes everything in me not to break.
I sit down in the room filled with constant beeping noises and touch the dove that still hangs from my neck. I need to have hope.
I look over to the man lying peacefully in the hospital bed hooked up to numerous machines. His normally lightly tanned skin now holds a paleness to it.
I reach over and grab his hand. “I miss you so much, Callum. Come back to me,” I whisper to the man I love, the man I thought I watched die in my arms, the man who's been in a coma for the past 6 months.
I let out a long sigh and begin to slip my hand away when suddenly I feel fingers lightly squeeze against mine and my eyes snap from our hands to Callum’s face.
His eyes slowly flutter open, squinting and adjusting to the light. Those beautiful icy eyes I've missed so much meet mine. I feel weak at the knees.
“Callum,” I gasp.
“Little dove,” his voice strains to say.
Then his eyes fall to my belly. My very large, round, seven months pregnant belly. Callum looks back to me and a smile begins to grow across his face.
