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“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he counters, but it’s as weak as he is.
“Oh, come on. Don’t try to be all noble now. Go ahead. Gloat. Getting away with something like that had to make you feel like a badass.”
His stare bores into me, his body tense and motionless. “I did what I had to, and your little ass should be grateful for that.”
“What you had to?” I snap. “You made your best friend take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit! He died in there! Grayson’s dad is dead, and you did that.”
“You’re damn fucking right I did!” he roars, slamming the whiskey bottle down on the counter. “And I’d do it again! I got more money out of that score than I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s not my fault the fragile little shit couldn’t handle himself in prison.”
I can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth, but even worse is what’s written on his face. He looks proud—pleased with himself for getting away with millions while his closest friend lost his life. There isn’t the smallest ounce of remorse, and that causes my blood to boil.
“You’re a monster,” I tell him. “A despicable, sad excuse for a man.”
His eyes darken, like the anger in him is starting to bubble to the surface. “You should be worshiping the ground I walk on. The shit I did kept you out of foster care. If I had gone to jail, you would have had no one!”
“I would’ve been better off!”
He laughs dryly and walks around the counter to stand in front of me. “If your mother could see you now—the greedy, unappreciative little bitch you are—she would be appalled.”
“Fuck you!” I hiss. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done. Being as I was unknowingly one of the key pieces of evidence in the case, I’m sure the FBI will love to know how you manipulated a little girl into lying under oath.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I definitely would.” Turning to leave, I take one step toward the door. “Enjoy your drink. It’s going to be a while before you get to have another.”
Before I can get away, he grabs me by the hair and pulls me back. “Over my dead body.”
His fist plows into my face with brutal force, sending a shooting pain through my jaw. He uses his grip to slam my head into the counter and throws me to the floor. The kick to my stomach is like getting hit by a truck. I try to shield myself, but as he swings his foot into me again, I can feel my wrist snap.
“You stupid, stupid little girl,” he sneers as he continues his beating. “I should have taken your ass out years ago.” Another blow to my face, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “Finally getting rid of you will be the best day of my fucking life.”
The pain across my entire body is so severe that I’m finding it hard to stay conscious. No matter how motionless I am, however, he doesn’t let up. The kicks and punches still come just as hard, with no sign of letting up. He’s going to kill me.
As the reality sets in, I think of those closest to me. Brady. Delaney. Grayson. Are they going to be okay? What will they think happened to me? Will my father get away with this too? It’s a horrible feeling, knowing I’m about to die. The only thing I have to look forward to is getting to see my mom again.
Everything starts to go hazy as I hear the faint sound of the door flying open.
“Get off her!” a person screams, and by some miracle, the hits stop coming. “Oh my God, Savi. No, no, no! Fuck! Stay with me, please.”
Grayson? I try to open my eyes, but I can’t. It’s too hard. I’m too weak. Losing the battle to stay awake, the darkness takes over, and the pain fades away.
28
Grayson
I press the pedal to the floor, breaking every traffic law known to man as I speed across town. Every time I try to call Savannah, it goes straight to voicemail. My mind immediately imagines the worst, and my heart plummets at the thought of it. If something happens to her, I will never forgive myself.
Her dad’s piece of shit is out front, which means he’s clearly home. I throw my car in park and race up onto the rickety porch, bursting through the door. What I see knocks my whole world off its axis. Savannah is curled up on the floor in the fetal position as her father viciously kicks her. My rage spikes to a level that scares even me.
“Get off her!” I roar, running to her side. Her father, the coward that he is, uses my distraction to flee. I know I should chase after him, but I can’t leave Savannah. Not now. Not like this. “Oh my God, Savi. No, no, no! Fuck! Stay with me, please.”
There’s blood everywhere, and the fear of her dying becomes alarmingly real. I take out my phone and call 9-1-1, telling them to get here as fast as possible. Savannah is unconscious, and her pulse is weak.
I just got her back. Don’t take her from me again. Please. I need her.
By the time the ambulance arrives, my clothes are stained with red—my hands covered from holding pressure on her wounds. The paramedics give me odd looks. They probably think I did this, like I’m some abusive prick who knocks his girlfriend around. I don’t pay any mind to it as they lift Savannah onto a stretcher and wheel her out the door. A police cruiser pulls up and two officers get out, all grim business as they eye her prone form.
“We’re going to need a statement from you, but I’ll have someone meet you at the hospital for that,” the officer tells me, and I nod a silent thank you.
