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I wonder how long he’s known and why he didn’t tell me. He must have found out recently, after he cheated. The reminder of that betrayal has acid churning in my gut, but I tamp it down. In the context of murder and a kidnapping, cheating is the least of our problems.
“You’re a piece of shit.” I seethe, turning my head up towards his father and shooting him a loathsome glare. “A wife killer and child abuser. How do you look at yourself in the mirror? Do you have no remorse?”
Anger at learning he’s the one behind Rogue's mom’s murder has me forgetting the gun in the room.
“Bellamy, stop.” Rogue warns.
Too late. I have Robert’s attention now. His gun remains pointed at Rogue as he turns towards me.
“Dangerous game you’re playing little girl, I’m the one with the gun.”
“Yeah and I’m the one tied to the chair because even with a gun you’re still nothing but a coward.”
“Watch your mouth.” He snaps.
His eyes are wild, his movements frantic and unpredictable.
“You’ll have to shoot me to shut me up.” I retort, mouthing off at him.
“Why do you think I brought you here?” He says, his delivery slow and cruel. He’s drawing this out, enjoying seeing us shake in fear before him.
The sudden reality of my situation has my earlier bravery evaporating on the spot. Fear has me shaking so badly, I hear my teeth clash together over the pounding of my racing heartbeat.
My vision tunnels.
The walls are closing in and I feel like I’m suffocating.
I can’t breathe.
No. No, no,no.
Not now.
I try to slow down my racing heartbeat, focusing on what Rogue told me when he found me last time.
“Keep your chest open like this. When you bend over like before, you’re closing your lungs and making it harder to breathe.”
Closing my eyes to avoid seeing what triggered me, I focus on rolling my shoulders back and opening my chest up. I gulp in deep breaths trying to keep the measured and consistent to slow down my still racing heartrate.
“Let her go.” I hear Rogue say through the fog. He takes a single step towards me before his father waves the gun at him, inching him backwards.
The edging on my vision slowly peels back as I come back to mental consciousness. I’m drained, the fear of being kidnapped and the stress of the panic attack having sapped all of the energy out of me.
The panic attack may be receding, but this feels hopeless.
“Don’t fucking move.” Robert answers, turning back to look at me. “Let me enjoy my time with your little girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend. I told you, she doesn’t mean anything. I’ve moved on.”
The casualness with which he dismisses the time we spent together hurts as much as the betrayal itself. I’m distraught and disappointed in myself for having so obviously misjudged him.
I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and I don’t know what’s going to kill me, the father with his gun or the son with his cruel words.
“Is that right?” Robert swings his arm slowly over to me, pointing it down at my chest.
“Don’t fucking point a gun at her.” He snarls.
“Or what?” His father replies, goading him.
