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His face tightens, and he sighs. “Then you shouldn’t have run.”
“You didn’t give me a choice,” I say, leaning away.
His lips part as he clenches the knife in his hand. “Why?”
My face contorts. “You know why.”
The look on his face changes in a twisted way unlike anything I’ve seen before, and it brings chills to my bones.
“You know I don’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit!” I spit.
I mean, I can’t win in a fight one on one. The only power I have is my voice, and I’d rather die knowing I used it well.
“You asked me about my life at the cult for a reason. You’re taking me there, aren’t you?”
His face darkens, and he’s looking right through me, so I know the truth.
I look away in pain, blinking away the tears. “I knew it. I should’ve never trusted you.”
“You ran from me,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What was I supposed to do? Stay there in that bed and pretend everything was okay while you were secretly plotting to bring me back to the one place I never wanted to return to?” I bark, even as the tears start to roll. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” he says, clenching his teeth in a way that makes me think he’ll lash out, but I refuse to back down.
“You didn’t tell me either, even though I asked so many times,” I say. “Because you knew it was the wrong choice. You knew what you were doing would hurt me.”
“Enough!” he suddenly yells, and it makes me flinch.
He looks at me with rage and disgust swirling behind his eyes. But it isn’t disgust for me.
“You let them use you like some kind of tool,” I say.
He grabs my arm and yells again, “Stop!”
“Not until you let me go,” I say.
“You know I cannot,” he spits back.
“Well, then you can rot away in your own regret for all I care.” I jerk my arm free from his grip.
“April. Enough,” he barks, grabbing my arm. “Come.”
When he tries to pull me out of the car, I plant my feet firmly against the floor. “No. Not until you let me go.”
“April!” he barks over his shoulder. “I am doing what’s best for both of us!”
“No,” I quip. “You’re doing what’s best for you and your buddies at the House. But I’m done being a victim. If I can’t live my life in freedom, I don’t want to live at all.”
And I snatch the knife from his hand when he isn’t looking, dragging it to my own damn neck.
I can’t ever win this fight. I can’t. He’s too strong. Too fast. Too … inhuman.
So there’s only one option left … putting my own life on the line.
He turns his head and watches me struggle with the knife. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” I hiss.
“Stop it,” he says, trying to reach for it, but I only jam it farther into my own skin.
Enough to make it bleed.
And that stops him in his tracks.
“No. You listen to me. I am not going back to that cult. I’d rather die than go through that again.”
“April …” He closes his eyes and sighs.
“I don’t give a damn that you think you have no choice. These men don’t own you. Whoever put that metal on you doesn’t own you. You think you’re indebted to them, but it doesn’t matter. If you run now, they will never, ever find you.”
He listens intently, frozen to the seat, and when his eyes open, they’re fixated on that one droplet of blood rolling down my neck.
“You promised me you would keep me safe. That I could trust you,” I say, trying not to panic at the thought of slicing my own throat. “But you lied to me just so you could make me complacent.”
“It wasn’t a lie,” he suddenly says.
Our eyes connect again in a storm of rage and fire, with nothing to quench the flames.
“But you still choose to make me bleed,” I say.
“I am not the one holding that knife,” he replies.
“I’m not talking about the knife!” I yell, overcome by emotions. “I’m talking about the blood they’ll spill when they get their hands on me. They’ll use me. Hurt me. Don’t you care?”
He looks away.
Fucking coward.
“I thought you cared about me. I thought we had something. I thought … you actually had feelings for me.” Tears well up in my eyes as I finally let out the truth. “But it turns out that was all a lie too, just to stop me from putting up a fight and making it easy on yourself.”
His face contorts in shame and agony and all kinds of pain.
“Well, goodbye.”
As I puncture my skin, he intervenes. With one fell swoop, he’s snatched the knife straight out of my hands and throws it far away into the woods, leaving me with a bloodied neck and a teared-up cheek.
