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“Last chance, Emily,” he croons. “Come with me now or things are about to get a whole lot uglier here.”
Standing up straighter, I lift my chin in defiance. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He lets out a long, dramatic breath and I see a feigned expression of sorrow on his face. “That your final answer, Emily?”
“Fuck you, Robert.”
“I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
He starts moving, crossing the room toward me. The wicked blade of his knife glints in the dim light of the room. As he closes the distance, my heart starts beating harder than it ever has before. My body is trembling. Even though I want to run, I force myself to stand fast and wait for him. Force myself to remain patient.
Robert closes to within a few feet of me and I move – probably faster than I’ve ever moved in my life. In one swift, fluid motion, I snatch up the fire poker and take a mighty swing with it. The shock of the blow reverberates down my arms, and I hear the dull thud as the iron stick connects with the side of Robert’s head. I see the arc of blood in the air and see him stagger, then drop to a knee. He drops the knife and clutches the side of his head, roaring in pain.
Dropping the poker, I start to sprint away, heading for the door when I feel his hand wrapped around my ankle. He gives it a vicious yank, and it sends me sprawling. Windmilling my arms, I stumble forward and fall to my knees, banging my head against the end table on my way down. The force of the blow rattles my teeth and sends a stabbing pain shooting through my head.
On my hands and knees, I feel a stream of warmth flowing from my head and immediately realize the fall opened a cut. I feel lightheaded and nauseous. My stomach is lurching, and my heart is fluttering. I know if I don’t get up right this instant, I’m going to die. But part of me wants to give in to the warm and comforting darkness that’s creeping in at the edges of my vision. That part of me wants to just go to sleep for a while. It whispers seductively in my ear, telling me that I’ll feel better with just a little sleep.
“Bitch. Fucking bitch.”
His voice is thick and slurred, but Robert’s voice is still recognizable. It cuts through the haze in my mind and pulls me back to the here and now. Looking over my shoulder, I cry out when I see his grisly visage, the blood from the cut I opened on his head flowing down his face. He looks at me from beneath that horrific crimson mask, his eyes filled with the rawest hatred I’ve ever seen.
Though clearly woozy, he’s trying to get to his feet. I know if I don’t get moving – if he gets up before I do – I’ll be dead.
“K – kill you,” he gasps. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
That provides me with the last bit of motivation I need to dispel the voices in my head trying to lull me to sleep. It sobers me up quickly. Though my legs are shaky and threaten to give out, I rise. I sway and stagger, my vision is doubled and cloudy, but I make my way toward the door.
I risk a look behind me and see Robert has also managed to get to his feet. He’s shaking his head and to my dismay, appears to be getting stronger by the second. I don’t know if I’ll get to the door before he gets to me. I have no choice but to try to make it.
“Emily!” he shouts. “Get your fucking ass back here.”
I don’t turn, I don’t speak, I do nothing more than narrow my eyes, grit my teeth, and push forward. I need to get out of here. My life depends on it. The life of my child depends on it.
I want to scream out in relief when my hand falls on the doorknob without having been grabbed from behind by Robert. And in what amounts to a small miracle, my head is starting to clear. I’m starting to come back to myself.
I fumble with the locks on the door, racing to get it open. I’m so focused on that task that when the knife slams into the wall next to me, the tip of the blade buried deep, I cry out in surprise. Fear steals through my body. I cut a look back, reeling in horror as I see Robert shambling his way toward me.
Turning away from the door, I grab my bag and run toward the back of the condo, slam my bedroom and lock myself inside. Not sure what else to do, I run to my dresser and muster up all of the strength still left in my body. I grunt and curse as I push that heavy son of a bitch against the door. I don’t know what good it will do – or if it’ll do any good at all – but I figure the more obstacles Robert has to overcome to get to me, the better. It’ll give me time – at least a little.
I grab my phone out of my bag and huddle in the corner of the room, my hand shaking so badly, I nearly drop it several times before I’m able to hit the button to call. Pressing the phone to my ear, I say a silent prayer as it starts to ring.
“Please, pick up. Please, please, please,” I whisper.
I jump and scream, nearly dropping the phone again when I hear the first thunderous booms upon my bedroom door. Robert’s voice from the other side, muffled by the thick wooden door, sounds as he screams at me to let him in. He rattles the knob and bangs on the door, trying to force his way inside.
The call is connected. The minute I hear his voice, a tsunami of relief rushes straight through me. Robert continues trying to batter the door down, his screaming growing more insistent. I hear a crack and splintering in the wood of the door, which sends a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart.
“Emily, where are –”
“I need help. He’s here, Aaron,” I cry. “Robert’s here and he’s going to kill me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my condo.”
“Sit tight, I’m on my way.”
He clicks off the line, leaving me there sitting alone in the corner. The strength in Aaron’s voice was comforting, but as Robert continues thrashing the door, and the cracks and pops in the wood grow louder and more frequent, I feel nothing but an overwhelming sense of dread.
