30. She Saw the Devil #2
Panic speared my temples. My eyes skipped over the hazy outline of my junk again. Tissues. A book. The scrunchie Ruth had made me. I blinked back tears of frustration. My heart rocketed when the silver glint I desperately needed was nowhere to be found.
No!
A cruel laugh bristled the back of my neck. “Looking for your knife, Lola?”
My body went still.
Chris’s footsteps were slow on the wooden floor. “Did you forget? I tidied up for you.” He slithered closer until his breath was hot on my ear. “I found all your secrets. I touched all your pretty things. Did you think I wouldn’t check your drawers? How stupid do you think I am?”
Desperate, I fumbled through the junk. Even a pen would do. My fingertips brushed over smooth metal. Relief sparked in every battered bone in my body. Chris hadn’t found all my secrets. I’d bet he’d seen the pink glittery tube and scoffed at it like he did at everything else I liked.
I silently flicked off the lid of the pepper spray and watched it roll under the bed.
“How stupid?” I whispered. “Pretty stupid.”
Confusion flashed across his face. I raised the pink canister, gritted my teeth, and pressed the nozzle. White fog spewed out. The foul smell burned my lungs, but I held my finger down, my aim steady on his bloody, swollen face.
“Fuck!” His eyes squeezed shut, and his arms thrashed wildly, smacking nothing but air. “You little bitch!”
I launched off the floor, onto the bed, clawed my way across the comforter, and tumbled off the other side. I scrambled back to my feet. My shoulder clipped the doorway as I flew out of the room.
And I ran.
“Lola!”
I ran for my life, down the hallway, into the kitchen, my eyes glued on the back door. My heart raced in my chest. Muscles burned in my legs. The pounding of Chris’s steps behind me drowned out mine. I didn’t slow down.
“Lola!”
The back door was right there.
I was so close.
A scream pierced the air. Was it mine? Pain exploded between my shoulders.
My lungs seized. Something hard had slammed into me, and I tumbled, sliding across the kitchen floor like it was ice.
My head hit the back wall. Dazed, dizzy, I never had a chance to recover.
Chris was already on top of me, pinning me under his weight, his hands wrapped around my throat.
I never gave up. Any hand or foot that I wrestled free clawed and kicked. I fought.
But Chris was strong.
So strong.
All I could see was the feral glare of red-rimmed eyes as he stole the last breaths from my lungs.
That was all.
Until a flash of silver sliced through the darkness behind his head like a shooting star. I murmured a silent wish.
Please don’t let this be my ending.
The swish of a frying pan flew out of nowhere to smack against Chris’s skull.
The claws disappeared from my neck. His face whipped around, frantic eyes searching the dark for his attacker, and I scurried out from underneath him.
I gulped in huge, desperate gasps of air as he forgot about me, lumbering to his feet, unsteady, almost tipping over.
The bite of rust was in the air. Blood oozed through the fingers he clutched to the back of his head.
Another silver streak flashed.
The frying pan slammed with a sickening crack against the side of his face, and he wilted down the kitchen cabinets.
Even though he sprawled out in front of me, motionless, my pulse still raced.
I was ready. Ready to run. Ready for him to lurch back to life.
He didn’t. There was no more fight in him.
Only his chest rose and fell in shallow heaves.
Yolanda’s bunny slippers shuffled forward.
“Did I get him?” She smoothed back her wiry grey curls. Popping her hand onto her hip, she peered down at Chris. Her slipper kicked the heel of his expensive shoe. Not a peep. “Reckon I got him good.”
I only nodded. Everything ached, and when I pressed my palm against the floor and pushed up, my arm shook, and my legs wobbled like I’d never be able to stand again.
The frying pan clattered to the counter.
Yolanda was coming to help me—bunny slippers and all.
A loud thump stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes darted over my shoulder to the front door.
My eyes flew to Chris. He was still passed out.
Another thump. A thundering crash. Wood splintered. Something was broken.
“Lola!”
My heart surged back to life.
Aiden.
Yolanda barked a laugh. “Your cavalry’s a bit late.” A smirk cracked her thin lips. “Although better late than never with that one.”
“Lola!” The panic in Aiden’s voice tore at my heart.
“I…” I wanted to shout back, “I’m here, I’m okay,” but my voice was hoarse and broken.
Heavy steps charged down the hall.
I stumbled to the doorway on legs still too shaky to hold my weight. The relief swelling inside me was the only thing dragging me forward. Into the hallway. To him.
The front door hung wide open, barely still on its hinges, and the streetlight outside glowed enough for me to see the man stall at every doorway until his frantic eyes locked on me. His last few steps faltered. Worry etched every line of his face.
I stumbled to him just as he collapsed to his knees.
Aiden’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow.
“I—I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to pick you up.
I heard you—” His eyes screwed shut, and he shook his head.
He wouldn’t be able to finish that train of thought.
“I heard you from down the street. I didn’t think I’d make it…
but…you’re…you’re okay.” He smoothed back my hair, and wild eyes scanned my face.
“No. Not okay.” His fingertips fluttered along my cheek, my jaw, my neck—all the places where the snake’s claws had been on me. “Oh, love. Where are your glasses?”
Tears streaked down my cheeks, but I was smiling. That sweet, perfect, grumpy man.
I threw my arms around him.
And then I kissed him.
I kissed him with every bit of fire and fight still burning in my belly so he’d feel just how much he meant to me. It was the kind of kiss that showed him I forgave him and let him know that his face was the one I wanted to see every day—for coffee, for romantic dates, for everything.
“Oi! Lovebirds!” The bunny ears of Yolanda’s slippers flapped as she sped past. For a frail old lady, she was fast on her feet. “Plenty of time for smooching outside.”
She dug her phone out of the deep pocket of her dressing gown, mashed at the screen, and pressed it to her ear.
“Calling the cops?” Aiden asked.
“The cops?” She scoffed over her shoulder. “It’s Tuesday. I’m calling the pharmacist.”
Aiden shook his head with a laugh. “I’ll explain later,” he promised, helping me to my feet.
He dropped a kiss on the top of my head and then anchored his arm around my waist. I was safe. He was with me, patient, never hurrying me to move faster to the door.
Outside, Yolanda barked into her phone. “Carlie, that you? You tell the sergeant to put his pants on and haul his arse to my place… Nah… Not later .” Yolanda rolled her eyes at us. “Right now… Tell him to send the paramedic as well. The doc’s had a problem with some bastard from the city.”
A problem.
I turned my head, my gaze searching through the broken door, down the dark hallway, and into the kitchen. The shadow of expensive shoes was the only hint of the man who’d tortured me for eight long years. But the nightmare was over. I was finally waking up.
Aiden’s arms wrapped around me, and he hugged me close. “Don’t look back,” he whispered.
Silently, I nodded.
I didn’t let my eyes linger on my past for another second. I wound my arms around Aiden and pressed my face into the warmth of his chest. The rumble of his soft, contented sigh swelled inside my heart. Together, we were a patchwork of just enough broken pieces to make one whole.
Aiden was my future.