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It was always her.
My heart hammers in my chest.
Pulse thumps erratically.
I need to get out of here.
Need to find something to use.
I must break free and fight.
A vision of Trent flashes before me. Of the last conversation we shared in his office. How I never told him I loved him.
I can’t die without telling him how I feel.
I need to survive.
For Trent.
For me.
My hands move around, trying to loosen the rope. It’s tight, but it’s not tight enough that I can’t budge my hands a little. I take advantage of the little gap and push harder, even when my skin burns and muscles strain with the effort.
Luckily for me, my hands are tiny because if I keep doing this, I’ll probably be able to shimmy it off.
I hope I have enough time before she comes back.
I rub my wrists back and forth, trying to get the right angle. Almost there, but not quite. Footsteps ring through the air as I work to gain some wiggle room to get my hands free.
There’s no way I’ll get my hands or feet free before she gets down here.
But this time, when my sister steps into the basement, regardless of my tied hands, I intend to charge her.
I would rather die this way than see what Brad has in store for me. He’s a monster. They both are.
As Erin walks closer, I wait until she’s within range before I jump off the couch and plow my body into hers.
It’s one swift hop.
I can’t manage more with the way my ankles are bound together.
Erin is taken off guard.
She falls to the floor, yelling when her arm hits the floor at a weird angle. “You fucking bitch!”
She’s howling, calling out, cursing me, and fighting back.
I don’t care.
She’s no longer my sister. She doesn’t deserve mercy from me.
I jump on top of her. I still haven’t gotten my hands free, but I use the fall to my advantage and hit her on the head, repeatedly, with my tied hands that are now clenched together to form a fist.
I’m kneeling on top of her stomach with all my weight. It’s brutal, and her dominant hand is too broken to lift and block my blows. She fights back with her left arm, but this is a fight I refuse to lose.
My knuckles burn. My wrists feel like they are being torn apart, but I keep going. I keep thrashing. I keep hitting.
I go for every inch of her flesh I can make contact with.
