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“We belong together,” he tells me angrily, slamming his fist on the floor. “We do. He deserves to die. He does.”
“She doesn’t deserve this, Alex. Lilian over there—she didn’t fucking deserve this. You won’t get away with any of this. The police will catch you and you’ll never see her again. Listen to her. Just listen to what she is telling you. You can’t be this delusional.”
Alex angrily turns his narrowed eyes to him. With shaking limbs, I get ready to stop him, but before I can, he slashes the knife across CJ’s chest.
“You did this!” he roars.
I scream out for CJ, something snapping inside me, and the next thing I know, I’m moving. I charge at him, using the move I’ve watched CJ use a thousand times when he plays rugby, my upper body gunning for his chest.
The second my body hits his, everything around me disappears. I don’t hear CJ yelling. I don’t smell the metallic, coppery scent of blood. My senses focus on the thumping of my pulse and the feel of my blood rushing through my veins.
We tumble to the floor, and I roll, reaching for the wrist in which Alex holds the knife. A crazed look moves across his expression, his eyes dangerously close to black. There’s no soul, no remorse, no guilt for what he’s done or is doing. There’s nothing.
I’m stunned, frozen for a split second at the sight, which helps him take me by surprise. He kicks out at me, and I fly backwards in the air, landing into the chair CJ is tied to and knocking him over. I cry out, but don’t let it stop me. I get up, searching for a weapon.
The room is mostly empty, but from the corner of my eye, I notice a stool in front of a vanity mirror and rush over.
“I’m going to end this. It’s meant to be us. You turned her against me. You brainwashed her,” Alex yells.
I whimper, picking the stool up by the legs, surprised by how heavy it is. My hair whips in my face when I spin around, and I find Alex getting up from the floor, his eyes on CJ with so much hatred a shiver runs up my spine.
“Allie, run. Now!” CJ screams from the floor, where he’s lying on his side, blood covering his clothes.
I shake my head, my legs moving across the room before I can even think of what I’m about to do.
But it’s him or us. And I’m not about to give up. Not now. We’ve been through too much together.
He bends down in front of CJ, holding the knife in the air. I cry out, feeling my life flash before my eyes.
My chest hurts, aches. A life without CJ isn’t a life at all. I push harder, my legs feeling like jelly and my knees threatening to give out.
I reach them, and with a roar so loud, I lift the stool above by head and swing. I swing with all my might, all my strength, and hit Alex across the head. I hit him so hard the vibrations of the impact cause my hand to spasm. I drop the stool to the floor, breathing heavily, and watch with a sick feeling in my gut as Alex’s body sways from side to side.
I feel sick. I feel sick at myself for being capable of doing something so brutal. But I can’t look away. So, I wait, watching with suspense and shock.
I wait.
I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive.
I just watch, clutching my chest and trying to even my breathing. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like I’ve just smacked a stool round someone’s head.
Alex’s body sways once more before dropping to the floor with a sickening thud. I whimper, sobbing uncontrollably as I move into action, taking the knife out of his hands.
“Allie, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.”
I nod, my entire body shaking. I cut through the rope, feeling my body about to collapse with relief. I move onto the other, my mind on the task and not on what CJ is saying.
The second his hands are free, he takes the knife from me and pulls me into his arms, his face resting in the crook of my neck. The dam inside me breaks, and I cling to him, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Shh, Cupcake. Shh.”
Sirens pierce the air and we pull apart, both turning to the door. “How?” he murmurs, and I glance down at my hoodie, now covered in blood, and thank God for Jordan.
“My phone is tucked into my bra,” I whisper, and help him pull the rope from around his ankles, grateful the chair legs had snapped from his fall and I won’t have to pick up the knife again.
“I love you, Allie. I love you so fucking much,” he tells me fiercely.
I cry harder, and through my sobs, I tell him, “I love you too.”
