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I shoot her a glare as I go to the mirror and examine the fucking knife that still sits embedded in my shoulder. My mind spins from the shock that still hasn’t waned. I could’ve died. Just a few inches to the right… If I hadn’t reacted in the very last moment, Kerry would have killed me. It’s a bread knife. She tried to do me in with a kitchen tool! I’m able to flex and straighten my elbow, and I can feel my fingers. All good signs. My gaze shifts between the wound and Kerry as I see her stir slightly.
Wounded but not down. Maybe not as broken as I first thought? She’s a dangerous woman in her fear, and I want to fucking live.
“Move one inch and I’m gonna fuckin’ rip your skull from your spine. Got it?” I growl, putting as much threat into the words as I can, because I’m afraid I won’t live to see the morning if I don’t put some fright into her.
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t move either and I can focus on getting the blade out of my flesh. I groan as I touch it even a little. There’s only one way to do this. I give Kerry a dark glance again and then I grip the handle and pull it all the way out in one single move.
“Fuck!” I roar, feeling as if it’s tearing me to pieces. I drop the knife, my knees weakening for a few moments.Get a grip!If I faint, I’m dead. I glance at my pale reflection in the mirror. Blood oozes from my shoulder, soaking my white shirt, dying it glistening red. My face and neck are partly covered in dried blood from the wound on the side of my head. I look like I’ve been run over by a train. And I feel like it too. Glaring at the huddling woman, who doesn’t look half as bad as I do, I have to suppress the immediate instinct to slam my fist in her face. I’m gonna have to calm down before I do something irreversible. Again.
Kerry
Seeing Christian pull out the knife is so gross I can barely watch, and I turn Cece’s head away for a moment. She wiggles in my grip, crying again.
I did that… I should’ve aimed better.
I kiss my daughter on the head and whisper it’s all right, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.Please, God, let it be the truth.At least regarding her. There’ll be hurt for me, more hurt, I know it. That’s all he’s ever done. Hurt me. I hug her tighter and shuffle all the way back until I hit the wall when he stalks closer to us. He’s limping badly. The expression on his face is closed and I can’t read anything from it.
“Please,” I rasp.
“Please what?” he snarls.
“Please, don’t hurt her.”
He scoffs and my heart sinks like a stone. Then he smiles. Toward her. And his eyes change for a moment before they turn back to me with their frightening coldness. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it.”
“Ple…”What?“You… oh.”You wouldn’t?“I find that hard to believe,” I sneer.
“And why is that?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, a muscle on the side of his jaw clenching and unclenching.
“Be… because you… do.” I swallow hard. I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to mention the things he’s done, it hurts too much to even think it. But he’s here, and I have no choice. “You hurt… people.”
His lips curl as he glares at me. “Right,” he says after a moment. “That I do. But I’m not gonna hurt her. She’s my kid for fuck’s sake. How much of a freak do you think I am?”
You wouldn’t know!“I—” My focus shatters as Cecilia’s hand comes up to stroke my chin.
“Momma, am angwy.”
I try to smile against the threatening tears. “Yes, sweetie, the man is angry, but it’s all right. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”
She shakes her head. “Angwy.” I frown. She strokes her belly. “Eatballs.”
“You... oh!”
When I look up, Christian has crouched before us, his left leg stretched out. “What?” he says, not entirely unfriendly.
“I… she… she needs to eat,” I say shrinking back from his proximity.
His gaze shifts from me to her and then back to me again. “So feed her.” He shrugs and stands, looking down at me.
It takes me a couple of moments before I understand. I lick my lips, glancing warily at him as I rise and let her down on the floor. My ankle sends off a stab of pain.
He follows us into the kitchen, and then he just stands there, like a looming shadow, leaning against the doorframe.
“Can’t you leave us alone for one second,” I snarl. My hands shake as I bring out frozen meatballs and pasta putting them on the counter.
He scoffs. “Couldn’t really leave you alone with even kitchen utensils, now could I?”
My cheeks turn hot and I refuse to answer. I drop the heavy pan dangerously close to my right foot and then I fiddle so much with the pot I almost drop it too. His gaze burns holes in my back and my heart slams against the inside of my ribcage. I give Cece a piece of bread to chew on while she waits. She’s playing with her fork and spoon and I’m happy she seems so unaffected.
