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I tried to control the shaking in my voice, and faked a smile. “What do you want me to do?”

He walked towards me, dropped the journal on the couch, and leaned in. “Give me a preview,” he said.

He reached down with one hand and cupped me between my legs, pressing the heel of his hand against my crotch. I fought back the gag that threatened to escape my mouth and the bile that rushed up my throat. Play along, dammit! Play along.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” I whispered, hating myself for what I was doing.

He cupped one of my breasts and squeezed painfully, but I was quick to hide my discomfort and even pushed my hips forward against his hand. He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down, giving himself room to slide his fingers into my panties. I shuddered with disgust as he touched me, the reflex working to my advantage as he smiled.

“You like that, huh?”

I nodded, biting my lip and trying to look as turned as I possibly could without headbutting him in the face. “Untie my hands and pull down your pants,” I said. “I think I might just know how to be a little more convincing.”

Heath hesitated for only a second before pulling a switchblade out of his pocket and reaching around me. I heard the blade snap open, and with a few tugs, my hands were finally free. Heath stood up, replaced the knife in his pocket, and quickly began unbuckling his pants. I gave him my best smile as he tugged and pulled at his pants, and even went as far as helping him pull them down.

Gunshots echoed through the night sky, startling us both. Heath’s head snapped up, his eyes squinting to see what was happening across the street, and I used the momentary distraction to my advantage. I gathered my strength, used every ounce of anger I had to fuel it, and punched him in the crotch.

Heath cried out in pain, his knees buckling as he collapsed onto the floor. I jumped up and raced past him. He curled up in a fetal position, his hands holding his crotch, and called after me. “You fucking bitch!”

I raced to the front door, skidding as I stopped and tried to pull it open. It was locked. I looked for the key on the tab

le next to the door, my hands shaking, Heath’s cries of pain piercing through my ears like sirens.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

More gunshots sounded from across the street, and tears quickly welled up in my eyes. I needed to get to Alex. I had no idea what I would do once I was outside, but I didn’t care. All I could think about was racing across the street before it was too late.

Heath appeared at the doorway to the living room, naked from the waist down, cupping his crotch with one hand and brandishing his switchblade in the other. “I’m going to cut you up, you fucking bitch!”

He lunged for me, and I quickly turned and raced up the stairs. I could hear him following me, clumsily slamming against the bannister and wall as he chased me to the second floor. Something cut across the back of my arm, and I screamed at the sudden shock of pain that shot out from where his switchblade had wounded me. I kept going, high on adrenaline, knowing that if I hesitated for just one second, he’d be on top of me. And that switchblade would do a lot more than just cutting.

I ran into Garth’s room and slammed the door closed. Heath was able to get an arm in to stop it from closing completely. I leaned against it, using my body to keep him from pushing it open, but he stronger, angrier, and I felt myself losing the struggle. He swiped at me with the knife, barely missing my face, and pushed at the door with everything he had. I was hurled forward and landed with a thud on the ground.

“You bitch!” he screamed and toppled on top of me. The weight of his body knocked the breath out of me, and I was helpless as he grabbed my hair and slammed my face against the floor. I flood blood trickle into the back of my mouth, and I pushed up against him with everything I had.

Heath rolled off me, the knife falling from his hands, and I grabbed it before he could. Without thinking, I swung my arm around and watched the blade cut across his cheek. He rolled away, kicking me as he tried to distance himself from my frantic swings. Gathering what little strength I had left, I pushed to my feet and raced back out and towards the stairs. Before I could reach them, Heath had caught up with me and threw his body against me, slamming the both of us into the wall.

“I’m going to kill you!” he hissed in my ear.

Screaming, I flung my elbow back and felt it connect with his jaw, giving me enough room to turn around and push him away.

Heath’s eyes grew wide as he lost balance and fell back, landing with a sickening cracking sound on the staircase. I slid to the floor and watched as he rolled down the stairs and came to an abrupt stop at the bottom, his legs and arms twisted in impossible angles and his eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Chapter 24: Alex

My hands tightened around the rifle as I made my way across the side of the house. I kept my head low, looking behind me every few steps to make sure no one was going to surprise me. The lights inside the house were on, but the curtains were drawn, and there was no way I would be able to take a look inside without bringing too much attention to myself.

This is a trap. You know that, right?

I heard Janice’s voice in the back of my head, loud enough to make me believe she was standing beside me and whispering urgently in my ear. Of course, I knew it was a trap. I was a lot of things, but naïve wasn’t one of them. There was no telling what Garth had planned for me, and every precaution I could take was only for my benefit. Ultimately, anything could happen.

I stopped just before I turned the corner towards the back. I leaned against the wall of the house, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds around me. Everything was quiet, except for the chirping of crickets and the occasional croak of a frog. The house was dead silent, and I began to immediately rethink my decision to come here. If Jenni really was inside, there would be some noise, anything at all, even if muffled moans of protest or the occasional shifting of furniture.

Unless they have her in the basement.

But the basement windows were dark, and a quick inspection of the one nearest to me assured me that no one was down there. The silhouettes of construction equipment lined the walls, and the shadows that shifted came from the light of the moon. No, she was definitely not in the basement.

Then why was the house so damn quiet?

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