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My scream is so loud, I hope the neighbors can hear it. How could I be so naïve to think he would stay unconscious? The killer in horror films never dies. He always comes back for revenge, and he always strikes again when the main characters think they got away.
“How could you possibly think she could save you?” he chortles.
Conor grabs me by the hair and pulls me away, dragging me across the floor and to the living room. My strength has barely returned, but I kick and scream anyway, making myself heavy to slow him down. I watch Rose roll onto her side, holding her hands to her cheekbone.
Conor drops me right next to our sofa and makes sure to kick me in the stomach before stepping away. “Stay right here. I’m just going to take care of the bitch before I finish with you.”
“Don’t,” I croak. “Please, leave her alone…”
He doesn’t.
I watch him storm back into the entrance hall, his rage kicking up a notch.
“Look at that,” he sneers. “The cunt who tried to steal my wife.”
“Fiancée,” I whisper to myself, correcting him like it makes a difference.
I roll onto my side, trying desperately to get on all fours to at least attempt to crawl over there and save the woman I love. But there’s no point. My body is battered and weak. Every movement I make forces a pain so intense that I fall back onto the floor. Even the adrenaline can’t save me anymore, and I fall back down on my stomach, my cut cheek against the floor, as I watch Conor grab Rose by the collar of her t-shirt and lift her up.
She’s taller than him and he is quickly reminded of it when she regains full consciousness and stands up by herself.
Her knee comes to meet his balls, and he rears back, howling with pain. She uses the momentum to punch him in the face and he falls backward. The back of his head hits the floor, and he groans loudly. She doesn’t jump on him as he did me, instead choosing to give him a chance to get back up, like knowing she’s the one who will win anyway.
“See, Conor. That’s what happens when you fuck with what doesn’t belong to you,” she spits her venom at him like the poisonous woman I know she is.
He gets on all fours and finally back up, swaying slightly.
“Suck my dick, Rose,” he growls at her.
He goes for her again, but she steps to the side and he stumbles forward. She grabs him from behind, sliding an arm around his neck and holding her wrist with her other hand, making sure to keep him tight against her.
A kick to the balls and one punch, that’s all it took for him to lose their altercation. I smile, knowing he could never take everything he put me through. He’s simplytoo weak.
He struggles against her.Being choked ain’t so fun, is it?
I hear her chuckle and watch her shake her head. “You’re a rich, white man, Conor. The entire world already sucks your dick. I don’t think you need my help.”
Slowly, I watch him lose the little strength he has left. His eyes grow heavy as he coughs and chokes. His writhing slows as his face grows purple and blue. My eyes lock with Rose’s. She’s smiling at me. A small smile, her lips barely tipping at the corners and her lips shut together. She is killing my abuser with the calmness of a winter night. Imperturbable, cold, and cruel, yet so soothing.
When Conor stills, she lets go and takes a step back, watching him fall to the floor while I watch her.
There’s a beat as we wait for him to move. He doesn’t. She crosses over him with her long legs and runs to me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, panic making her voice tremble slightly.
“I’m okay,” I whisper as she runs a flat hand up and down my back.
“You’re still bleeding.”
I shake my head, a new life entering my body now that Conor is gone. “I’m okay,” I repeat.
She helps me up, and I lean onto her as we walk toward the front door. Instead of leading me out, she lets go of me and I need to hold onto the wall.
“One second,” she states before going off. She disappears into the house, and my eyes go to Conor’s unconscious body. I have to check.
Fear gripping me, I let myself fall to the floor and crawl toward him. I put two fingers against his throat and my heart stops when I feel his still slowly beating. Barely, but he’s still alive.
“Rose,” I whimper. She’s already back. “H-he’s not…”
