AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She shrugs. “Sorry.”
“You are not fucking sorry in the slightest.”
She gives me another shrug, then I notice the phone in her hand. Shaking my head I step into the kitchen, and I try to hold in a gasp when I see that the side door is open. With wide eyes I turn to look at Kady to tell her to call the police, but my hair is yanked back, as I hear Kady scream.
“Come here, bitch.”
“911,” I grit out between clenched teeth, as the pain intensifies from him tugging on my hair.
Kady screams at him to let me go, her eyes furious but I see the fear in them. Instead of calling the police she lunges for the man, slapping his face, clawing at him with her nails. He growls and pushes her away, then starts to drag me in the direction of my office.
“Where is it?” he snarls at me.
Shaking my head, I refuse to tell him where the shop’s money is. No way is he getting his hands on anything that has been earned the hard way.
Only cowards take what is not theirs.
“Fuck off,” I hiss at him.
He yanks again, making me cry out with pain.
“Oh, you fucker.” Kady jumps on his back, again clawing at his face. He leaves me to go try and get her off him, but she is holding on tightly. I scramble for her phone that she dropped, but then I hear a sickening thud.
Turning around sharply I see Kady, in a crumpled heap on the floor, unconscious.
“KADY!” I scream.
Tears fall down my face uncontrollably.
“You bastard,” I snap at him.
He storms towards me, snatching the phone out of my hand before I can open it. I scramble to get away but he is fast, pulling me to my feet so fast my neck jars back and I wince in pain.
He grips my bicep so hard that I know that I will be carrying his unwanted marks for days. He wrenches my shoulder up, making me cry out again, as he drags me through the kitchen and down the short distance to my office.
“Get me the money,” he snarls in my face.
I inch back from his rancid breath. It smells like rotten eggs and whiskey. With force I am thrown into the room, the corner of my desk slamming into my stomach. I cry out from the pain. My stomach lurches, vomit threatening to make an appearance.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Just get me the money.” He reaches behind his back, pulling a silver knife, and brandishing it in my direction.
My free hand goes up in a surrender motion, the other tightly around my stomach.
“Please, I can give you the money. There is no need to hurt me any more than you already have.” My voice is weak, and quivers with terror.
He laughs and it reminds me of a villain in a horror movie. My body shakes in fear, my heart racing so hard against my chest it will be bruised. I back up against the wall, needing to be away from him as much as I can, even though I am trapped in my small office.
“Oh, but hurting you is the good part.” His smile makes me want to vomit.
Sliding my body along the wall, I creep closer to the window, keeping my gaze on him. He shakes his head, then bangs the heel of his palm against his temple. It is like he is glitching, and that is when it dawns on me that he is under the influence of drugs, or he is suffering from some form of mental health issue.
His eyes close tightly, like he is trying to not see whatever is in his head.
“No. Let me do it,” he says in a Boston accent, which was not the accent he first spoke to me with.
A second ticks by, then his body straightens and I almost gasp at the sudden change.
