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I used to come when Mr. George touched me. When he forced me. I felt sick about it, but I did. And he loved it. Loved rubbing my face in it. Loved that Joshua saw me come again and again. Saw me enjoy the very thing that revolted me. That had me puking my guts out after it was over.
But when I was with Lev, it was different.
It was beautiful.
Fuck.
He pulls his arm away, and I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. They come away wet, and when I look at him, he isn’t surprised or upset I guess that I’m still wiping away tears.
I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
Lev stands, and I look up at him on the other side of the bed.
He’s beautiful in a cruel sort of way. When he’s not smiling, there’s something dark about him. But when he smiles, and he does just now, I see that dimple. And just as Josh’s smile reminds me of Lev, Lev’s reminds me of Josh.
And that’s what I need to think about now. Josh is who I need to think about.
Lev walks around the bed and takes my arm. He leans down, and I look up. His face is only inches from mine. He squeezes my arm a little. It doesn’t hurt, but I know it can hurt. I know he can make it hurt. He’s warning me.
“Don’t try anything stupid, understand?”
Can he read my mind?
I blink fast, and it takes all I have not to look away, but I know if I do, he’ll see I’m lying. So instead, I nod, swallowing back my anxiety.
I have one shot at this. And if I fail…no, I can’t think about that. I can’t fail.
He releases me, gestures to the bathroom with a jerk of his head, and slips his phone out of his back pocket.
I walk awkwardly with just the one boot on into the bathroom. I have to remember to grab the other one when I leave.
I’m closing the door when Lev calls my name.
“Kat.”
I stop and peer out.
“Don’t lock it.”
I slip back and close the door. The lock is one of those push-button locks anyway, and I’m sure he could break that without much effort, so it’s not a big deal to leave it unlocked.
I turn to the sink and meet my reflection. My face is blotchy, my eyes puffy and red from crying. I turn the tap and cup a handful of cold water to splash on my face. I keep it running as I bend down and open the cabinet beneath the sink. I know when it will creak so I’m careful to stop just before. I reach my arm inside and twist my body so I can reach around behind the pipes.
There, taped to the top of the cabinet, I feel the hard metal of the pistol I purchased illegally four years ago. Two nights after I ran.
I practiced with it that year I was pregnant, but I haven’t touched it since Josh was born. I hate the thing, and even now, taking the cold, hard pistol in the palm of my hand, as small as it is, I feel its power, and I know the damage it can do. The havoc it will wreak.
But I have no choice.
I straighten. It’s loaded. Six bullets. So, I guess I have six chances, not one.
“Kat?” Lev calls from the other side of the door.
“Just a sec,” I say, flushing the toilet and taking a deep breath. I flex my hand around the pistol, stare straight ahead at the door and cock the gun.
Then I open the door.
Lev’s a few feet away. He looks up as he finishes typing the last of his text and tucks the phone into his pocket. I think that all happens in just a split second of time. It just feels like it’s stretched out to me.
When I lift my arm, it feels like slow motion. His expression changes, darkening as I raise the gun and aim it at him.
I don’t have to shoot him.
I don’t want to hurt him.
Maybe I can make him cuff himself to the bed. Maybe I can do that.
Lev’s eyes narrow. He looks disappointed first, then angry as his mouth tightens into a thin, hard line.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I hear myself say, and my voice sounds strange, as though I’m in a tunnel. I’m crying again. I feel the tears, and my hand is shaking, and I have to shoot. I have to.
“Put it down, Kat.”
I shake my head.
He takes a step toward me.
I take one back. I need to shoot. Now. I need to pull that damned trigger.
“Handcuff yourself to the bed,” I try, my voice trembling. Weak.
He takes another step. I’m almost out of space.
