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The door finally bangs shut just as I recognize the same chuckle I heard a few minutes ago in the bar.
Fight or flight instincts take over and the self-defense moves I learned in high school PE come to life. I lift my foot to stomp down on my attacker and then fight to turn my body so I can slip from his grasp, but it fails.
“I knew you’d be a feisty one. My favorite kind.”
It’s tempting to panic, but I know fear won’t help. My mind races through my options. Realizing I still have my crossbody purse on, I reach down to open the zipper as I continue to flail to break free. I feel around until I can grab the small canister of pepper spray I carry and yank it out.
It takes all my effort to force myself to relax enough so that my attacker finally loosens his hold on me, probably thinking I’m giving up. As soon as my body has enough freedom, I spin around, aiming the nozzle directly into his eyes.
His scream of pain is satisfying, but I’m still not out of the woods yet. Moving closer, I lift my right knee and connect with his balls, bringing an even louder bellow of pain from him.
Relieved, I rush around him, desperate to get out into the hall where I can run to safety. My hand is on the doorknob when my entire body convulses. A sharp stabbing pain explodes in my neck just as a deafening buzzing sound surrounds me.
It’s as if my legs have fallen asleep beneath me as I crumple to the tile floor just inside my suite. For a few seconds I don’t understand what happened, but as the wave of pain spreads through my muscles, I see a plastic gun fall to the floor next to me.
The fucker tased me.
My brain tells my arms to move. I need to push to my feet… escape.
“You little bitch!” he shouts. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun, but now you’re gonna really pay.”
I can hear him in the guest bathroom not far inside my suite. He’s left me alone. Now is my chance, but the best I can manage is to roll from my side onto my back. My muscles are not cooperating.
Real panic is closing in. If I can’t get my body cooperating, this is not going to end well.
My phone. It has to be close. Through sheer willpower, I get my arm to move enough to feel around, desperate to find my phone. That search fails, but my hand does connect with the small decorative table where I usually leave my purse and other small items I don’t want to lose.
I don’t have time to pull myself up with the table before he returns, standing over me with red eyes and a wet cloth looking furious.
Still unable to push to my feet, I watch in horror as my attacker pulls a knife from his suit pocket, flicking it open with the push of a button. Even in the dim light, the blade is terrifying—six inches long. Until that moment, I was afraid I was about to raped. Now… I’m sure I’m going to die.
Odd thoughts flit through my brain as I lay there immobile while my attacker uses his knife to cut my mini-dress off my body from hem to bust.
My head throbs from the effect of the zap of electricity, bringing a barrage of thoughts.
How ironic. Laura’s brother was looking better by the minute. Hell, if only it were a few weeks in the future, I’d be safely in my bedroom at my parent’s house right now.
But none of those things are my reality.
The painful tingling in my limbs is just starting to subside as my attacker picks up my right wrist and drags my still limp body across the floor of the foyer and deeper into my suite. The tile is cold against my bare skin and I’m grateful he hasn’t cut off my bra and panties yet.
Desperate, I reach out with my free hand, trying to grab onto anything that I can use to stop his progress.
My fingers wrap around the foot of the decorative table, but it’s too light to stop us and it topples to the floor with a loud crash. Would my neighbors hear and maybe call in a noise complaint? The thought helps me pluck up the energy to scream.
“Help me! Call the police!”
My attacker is there in a second, straddling my body as he stoops down, yanking my head off the floor by my long hair. His breath smells like stale cigarettes and booze as he warns, “You better shut up, bitch. And stop pretending you don’t want it.” Spittle flies from his mouth as he adds, “You’re a fucking cock tease and tonight you’re gonna get what you have coming to you.”
He’s waving the knife around wildly with his free hand just as my own flailing hand comes into contact with the glass vase that toppled to the floor when the table tipped over.
It takes all the strength I can muster to lift the vase high enough to send it crashing against the side of his head, splintering it into dozens of pieces.
Under different circumstances I might have laughed at the shock in his eyes when he realizes he’s bleeding. But his shock quickly turns to raw fury, and I hear the clatter of the knife falling to the floor.
I’m grateful that, while I’m still in pain from being tased, my muscles are cooperating enough that I can scramble to retrieve his weapon before he can.
We wrestle for control until a fresh pain explodes as he backhands me across my cheek. My neck snaps to the side as stars explode in my vision as his fist punches my stomach. Bile rises and I fight down the urge to puke. While I’m recovering, he leans down to pick up the knife, pointing the blade at me with a wild look in his eyes.
