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I try to beg through the duct tape, but it comes out mumbled. I can move my hands up enough to reach the duct tape, barely. So that’s what I do. I focus on getting the tape off. I can’t fight him physically, but I can fight with my words. I can hope that this man has a heart or soul in there somewhere. He might show some compassion if I could only speak to him.
He drags me away from the street and into the cabin, which isn’t much more than a fridge, couch, and bed. My eyes widen when I see the bed already set up with ropes to tie me down. He will not rape me. He might kill me, but he will not rape me. I won’t let him. I will fight to the death.
I finally rip the tape off my mouth.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg.
He tosses me to the ground, and I’m barely able to catch myself with my hands before hitting the floor.
“I’m pregnant!” I shout, pissed he just risked my baby’s life. Again.
He freezes, staring at me, finally seeing the small bump beneath my T-shirt.
“It’s Matteo’s. He’s going to be a father. You are going to be a grandfather. You can be in this child’s life. But you have to stop hurting your family. Stop. Ask for forgiveness and let’s move past this.”
He continues to stand over me, speechless, while I take several deep breaths, glancing around me for the nearest escape. There isn’t one. Unless breaking a window counts. The only door is the front door he carried me through.
He squats down to look me in the eye. This is it. My last shot.
I hold his gaze, trying to get him to see my humanity. He doesn’t need to hurt the baby or me. He can change.
If Matteo can change, so can he.
He cocks his head to the side and grins. “You’re not going to be pregnant for long. Not when you’re dead.”
I scramble to my feet to run, but he grabs my hair, jerking me backward.
He yanks me toward the bed, but I dig my feet in, making it as hard as possible for him.
He punches me hard in the stomach.
I see stars. I can’t feel anything. I’m dizzy, and sick, and pissed off. If he hurt my baby in any way, death will be his preferred option when I get through with him.
He grabs my hair again and starts dragging me to the bed. My eyes are barely open, but I see the shiny object sticking out of his shoe.
He’s not paying attention to me, so I quickly and quietly snatch the knife and hide it in my hands. I could stab him in the leg, but then he’d just shoot me. I have to wait for the right moment.
We get to the bed, and he scoops me up, tossing me to the bed.
His body crashes down on top of me. His weight feels like an elephant sitting on my chest. I can’t breathe. If I’m lucky, he might suffocate me before he has a chance to rape me.
His tongue licks my face, and I scream, “No.”
He pauses a second at my unexpected outburst. He laughs and does it again.
I scream again.
If he touches me, it won’t be enjoyable for him. I’m going to scream and yell and bite and fight. Do anything I can to try and stop him.
“I like fighters. This is going to be more enjoyable than I thought.” He sits back. “I’ll rape you here on this white bed. Then I’ll cut out your baby and let you bleed to death, before Matteo finally arrives, too late to save his one true love. It’s perfect.”
“You disgusting bastard! You won’t touch me.”
He licks my face again, simply to show his dominance. As his body presses in again, I remember the knife in my hand, the metal cutting into my grip. Somehow I must have grabbed the blade instead of the handle.
I need to turn the knife around. I need to stab him in the chest. Before he ties me to the bed.
I try to keep my pain focused on Enrico, as he continues to slobber all over my face, down my neck to my breasts. He rips my shirt open, giving him access, as his disgusting cock presses into my belly. I try to ignore him as I slowly turn the knife around, cutting my hands and side in the process.
