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My molars ground against one another, the curses and filthy words I wanted to yell at him on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back because I knew this game. I knew how this would end, and this time I wouldn’t be the one stuck in the hospital for a month, mourning the life I wanted to have. I swallowed down the bile traveling up to my mouth as I allowed myself to touch him for the first time.
My shaky hands dragged over his torso while he kept that fucking knife underneath my eye, looking at me with the force of possession that made me sick to my stomach. This man would never stop, not until he killed me. Or, well, not until I killed him.
“Yessss,” he hissed, closing his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Touch me, baby. Touch what’s yours.”
The knife disappeared from my face, and with his eyes closed, he rubbed himself against my core, obviously thinking that he was winning. But not fucking today, Satan.
I wrapped my left hand around his neck, pulling him closer to me, until my lips pressed against his cheek and I started peppering his face with wet kisses, distracting him, holding him in place. He pulled me out of the chair and into his arms, taking us both toward the bed placed behind the chair I was tied to. He dropped me down on a plush surface, towering over me with the content look on his face, before he dove down, pressing his lips to my throat. My right eye zeroed in on the knife he dropped on the bed. “I missed you,” I lied through clenched teeth, whispering into his ear. “I missed you so much.” I tried keeping my voice steady, but I couldn’t hide the tremble in my tone. “And I’m so sorry.” I was sorry.
Sorry that I didn’t do this before.
Sorry that I allowed him to destroy my life.
Sorry that he took everything from me.
Eddie used to be, at least for me, what dreams were made of, but I was a foolish little girl once upon a time, and I failed to see the monster hiding behind the mask of a perfect gentleman. And I didn’t want a gentleman anymore.
I didn’t want someone to handle me with kid gloves again, only to show me their destructive side when I finally fell for them.
I wanted an adventure, a love all-consuming, so powerful that it would have the strength to knock me off my feet.
“I really am sorry, Eddie,” I murmured against his hair.
“It’s okay, babe,” he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against mine, completely oblivious to what was happening around him. “We’re here now, and this time I’m not letting you go.”
And that’s what I was afraid of.
My hand gripped against the handle of the knife he'd dropped, and before he could move away from me, or look at my face, I lifted the object up and pulled back.
I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see life seeping away from his eyes. I wanted him to remember the face of the person who finally put an end to his insanity.
My lips pulled into a grin as he smiled softly down at me. “I hope you fucking rot in hell,” I said, my voice strong, barely recognizable. Confusion took over his features, but it was too late for him to do anything.
The sound of skin breaking apart, the squelching as the tip of the knife entered into the side of his neck over and over and over again, was music to my ears. I cackled as he choked on his own blood, trying to fight me, trying to push away, but strength I didn’t know I possessed took over my body, and my hand at the back of his neck only tightened, holding him in place.
Crimson splashed over his shirt, over my face, while the monster from my nightmares gurgled, trying to breathe through the pain. It took me a moment to realize that the screaming echoing around us wasn’t coming from him, but from me, and I couldn’t see anything but his crimson covered body and the urge to hurt him, to make him pay for everything he did.
Pushing him off of me, I sat on his lap, clutching the knife as if it was a lifeline.
“This is for my baby!” I screamed as the knife lodged into his chest, blood pooling from the wound almost immediately. “And this is for me!” I bellowed as I pulled out the knife, and moved to his head, where his open eyes filled with fear looked at me.
They always made it seem so easy in the movies whenever someone stabbed a person through the skull, but no one ever told you about the resistance, or the fact that you had to push much harder. And I pushed and pushed, until the hilt of the knife was the only thing left sticking out of his skull.
Blood covered his face, flowing over his eyes, and satisfaction like I have never felt before slowly washed over me, telling me it was over.
He was gone.
He would never be able to hurt me anymore.
But movement outside of this room brought me back to reality, and I remembered that Eddie wasn’t the only villain in this story. There was another one, much more vicious, cunning and completely fucked up that was threatening to destroy this new life I was slowly building.
Most of all, he was threatening to destroy Cillian, and I couldn’t have that.
I ripped the knife from Eddie’s skull and jumped off the bed, wincing as my feet connected with the cold, hard ground. I looked down to see the beginnings of swelling in my left ankle, turning it side to side, gauging if I would be able to walk. My skin tightened with each movement, but it definitely wasn’t broken.
Sprained, yes, but I could still walk.
“Oh, Tristan!” I hollered, slowly limping out of the room. “Where are you?” I cackled, training my ears to focus on the smallest of sounds. A thud came from my right, and just as I turned my head toward the sound, a chair came flying at me, mere inches from my face. “Is that all you've got?!”
