74. Now
SEVENTY-FOUR
now
I hope that when someone eventually finds my body, they won’t let Maggie see it.
That one thought plagues me as I sit in the corner Daniel designated for me and watch him pace my living room.
“I told my father we should have killed you when we had the chance,” he snaps. “Little bitch. You know, after two years passed and I never saw any messages from you on his phone, I assumed you had wised up. Imagine my surprise when I checked out a hot piece at the gala, and she turned out to be you .”
Manic, he keeps on. “And then he followed you out of there . So he knew you were there, too. I’ve got to admit, that one tripped me up. I almost ran after you both, but then I realized bitch boy probably had his bodyguard lurking somewhere. And I couldn’t get caught on camera, of course. So, I had to let you both go. But then, when my baby cousin didn’t show up for work the next morning, I knew exactly why. You wear him out, little princess ?”
I refuse to reply, but he doesn’t let up. Taunting me, going on rants about what a tease I am. How I’m lucky his father is on his way over, or I would be right back where he had me before?—
I tune him out. Choose a spot on the dusty wood floor and stare at it while Dr. Laura’s trigger management tips loop through my mind.
He wants to terrify me. Just like that day in the Hamptons, my fear seems to gratify him somehow. But, unfortunately for Daniel, I’ve had three years to think about what happened and ponder what I wished I’d done differently.
Processing what they did took months of therapy. Dr. Laura gently walked me through the day from every angle, helping me come to terms with the enormity of what I lived through, as well as the little things that made my skin crawl after.
Like the fact that he once again helped himself to a pair of my underwear when he packed my bags. The wicked look of victory in his eyes when he saw he had me in his clutches. How he dared to mention my teenage sister just to terrify me into compliance.
In the end, Dr. Laura helped me decide that Daniel didn’t deserve the satisfaction of terrifying me for the rest of my life. Anytime I thought of him and felt fear, I reminded myself that he liked my fear. He wanted it.
And I can refuse to give it to him.
It worked for a long time. Years.
Until Grayson Stryker reappeared and all the threats Ted and Daniel made became possibilities once more.
Until I saw Daniel at the Stryker & Sons gala, looming just beyond Gray, watching me .
I still don’t know how he tracked me to Gray’s apartment. Or how he got into mine.
In all of his monologuing, he’s never explained that part. Instead, he lists all of the ways he wants to hurt me. All of the sick ways he’s “dreamed” of “putting me in my place.”
I refuse to cower for him. It’s one thing to run away from evil. But another to feed it once it catches you.
Every few moments, my gaze slides to the gun lying on the end table beside the couch. He set it there on purpose, between me and the door. Mocking me.
I can’t get to it. Not that I know how to use the thing if I somehow get a hold of it.
Part of me is grateful. If he plans on killing me, there are a lot worse ways than a bullet. That will be quick… unlike all of the other torture he’s put me through.
The other part of me, though, suspects the weapon is just a prop. He used it to get me backed into a corner and then set it down. If he really wanted to shoot me, why is he waiting?
A dizzy wave of nausea rolls over me as I think that he probably doesn’t want to shoot me. Yet. He probably wants something else first.
While he keeps on rambling, I determine that I won’t fight him. If he wants to violate me one more time before he kills me, I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing my fear like I did the first time.
After what feels like an eternity, there’s a knock at the door. Ted’s voice comes through, muffled. “Daniel? It’s me,” he grunts. “Open the door, son.”
“Fucking finally,” Daniel mutters. With one final glare, he picks up his gun and stalks to the door, disengaging the chain and locks.
The next ten seconds pass in a blur of motion. The door swings in. Ted falls forward, going to his knees as someone rolls over him. Another figure, clad entirely in black, rushes over the threshold .
The gun rings out. Someone shouts. Blood splatters across the room, landing in a fine mist over my bare feet.
The room tilts on its side.
Then swirls.
And then, all at once, it isn’t there anymore.
Or I’m not.