Chapter Eighteen
I became aware of an incessant buzzing at my ear.
The bloody fly persistently irritating me and dragging me out of my peaceful slumber.
Groggily, I flapped my hand at the pest only to be rewarded with a shower of water droplets.
I groaned and buried my face into the softness of the pillow beneath me to dry it off, curling my body into the warm figure before me as the move prompted a contented feminine sigh. ..
Emma!
My eyes flew open as realization dawned — I’d fallen asleep! And not for a short while either, if the defrosted makeshift ice pack that had soaked my hand was anything to go by. How could I have been so stupid?
Freeing my arm from Emma’s sleepy hold, I lifted my wrist to check the time. We’d been out of it for an hour.
Shit!
The buzzing picked up again; now that I was fully awake it was obvious that it was Emma’s doorbell.
Rolling out of bed, I shot to the living room window and scanned the street, looking for any sign of who was at the door.
I saw my stepfather’s car immediately; you couldn’t miss the bright red Ferrari on this street.
Fear coursed through me, but I tried to tell myself I could handle him.
He wouldn’t dare hurt me like he had Emma.
I just needed to keep him away from her.
I moved to drop the curtain but my hand froze as a new car pulled onto the street. It was Dr Tate!
Now I truly was scared. Why would my stepfather call upon him unless it was to administer meds?
All sorts of horrific thoughts raced through my mind and my stomach churned.
I gripped the windowsill and took a steadying breath.
I needed to call the cops. There was no way Emma and I were getting out of the apartment block without a fight.
And it wouldn’t take my stepfather long to decide that the fire escape would give them a route in.
Racing back into the bedroom, I shook Emma awake, panic making me less aware of her wounds, and she yelped as she shot up on the bed.
“Ow! Abi!” she said rubbing at her shoulder, tears pricking at her eyes.
“I’m sorry, baby, but I need your cell. Where is it?”
“In the kitchen, on charge.”
I flew into the kitchen, scanning desperately for the phone.
Sure enough it was plugged in on the counter.
Lunging for it, I almost sent it flying across the room, just managing to rescue it by the charging cable still connected to its bottom.
I pulled it up and tugged the cable out, navigating the unfamiliar device for the emergency services dial screen.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mumbled as my nervous fingers took several fumbling attempts to correctly dial out. Finally, I did it, and holding it to my ear I ran back to the bedroom.
“Police,” I blurted to the operator when they answered.
Then explaining the situation as briefly as I could, I kept watch over Emma.
She wasn’t moving, she wasn’t doing anything.
She sat horror-stricken at the edge of the bed, her face ghostly white as she listened to me speak, her blackened body still completely naked.
“Get dressed, baby,” I mouthed to her and to my relief, she nodded and started to move.
The buzzing had ceased, which I assumed was because my stepfather was now speaking to Dr Tate. The woman on the other end of the phone was trying to keep me calm but inside I was a mess. She reckoned twenty minutes before the cops would get to us. Could we hold them off for that long?
Poor Emma was struggling to get dressed, her aching limbs refusing to do her bidding as she stepped into a pair of track pants and almost fell. And then the buzzing started up again. At least that meant they were still trying to get in through the front door.
“I need to help my friend,” I said to the operator. She asked me to keep on the line and have the phone nearby. “Will do.”
I closed the bedroom door, drowning out the incessant sound of the jarring buzzer and placed the cell phone on the side table. Grabbing up a T-shirt from the floor, I turned to Emma. “Here, lift your arms.”
Gingerly, she did as I asked and I slipped the fabric over her head—
Crack!
The sound of splintering glass came from the living room.
I knew immediately that one of them had come up the fire escape, the persistent buzzing a cunning ploy to distract us from the secondary access one of them had used.
We looked at each other and froze, neither daring to move in case we made a sound to draw their attention.
My eyes scanned the room trying to find a hiding place.
The closet! It was our only hope to delay things long enough for the police to get here.
Retrieving the cell from the side, I stuffed it in my back pocket and took hold of her hand, pulling her with me to the closet. Opening the door, I was presented with a typical girl’s wardrobe, bursting with clothes and boxes, barely room for another item of clothing let alone the two of us.
The sound of footsteps moving around the room next door ended the debate and I nudged Emma forward. She shook her head vehemently, gesturing for me to get in.
Not likely, this was my mess; if anyone was going to get caught, it was me.
Shoving her in, I kissed her lips fleetingly.
“Please stay put ... for me,” I whispered, and then I closed the door quietly just as the handle turned on the bedroom door.
Pinning myself to the wall behind it, I held my breath.
“Abi? Emma?”
It was Dr Tate.
The intercom buzzer picked up again and he swore. Moving back into the living room, I heard him at the intercom releasing the door for my stepfather and then he unlocked the apartment door, his footsteps now approaching as he resumed his search for us.
“Look, Abi, I know you’re here, your car is outside. Why don’t you make things easy for everyone concerned and come out?”
I heard him enter the bathroom briefly and then he came back into the bedroom, his back to me as he scanned the room.
I looked about me for some form of weapon, anything to swing at his great big head but there was nothing.
He took in the strewn contents of the suitcase, the rumpled sheets and then his eyes settled on the closet as he made his way toward it.
“What is it you want?” I said the words quietly, fear making my voice tremble as I tried to avoid looking toward the closet, praying with all my might that Emma would do as I’d asked and stay put.
He spun on his heel before me, his face lifting into a snide grin. “Abi!”
“Nathan?” my stepfather’s booming voice made it through the apartment.
“In here,” Dr Tate called out and then to me he said, “do you know how much trouble you have caused, young lady?”
Dad strode into the room, his eyes settling on me. “Thank God! Get out there!” he barked.
I refused to move.
“Drug her if you have to,” he said turning to Dr Tate, “but it would look better if she made it out of here on her own two feet. What about Emma?”
“I can’t find her.”
“She has to be here somewhere, the manipulative little bitch!” my stepfather cursed, thrusting his hand through his hair and rounding on me. “Clearly the warning from my men wasn’t effective if she dared let you come near her again. Where is she, Abi?”
I raised my chin in silent defiance and his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Tell me Abi or I swear” — he raised the back of his hand to me — “I’ll beat you myself.”
I kept my bold stance, looking anywhere but the closet. Seconds passed, his hand trembling before me and then he withdrew, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Christ! You’re your mother’s daughter.”
“Take her into the living room, Nate, and give her something to make her pliable.”
“No!” Emma flew out of the closet, launching herself at Dr Tate. He shifted his body just in time to bypass her move and my stepfather grabbed her, pulling her back kicking and screaming against his chest.
His hand shot to her mouth to muffle her sound and I flipped, diving across the room in a desperate attempt to get her out of his grasp. But Dr Tate moved quickly, grabbing me by the waist to halt my attack.
“Your stepfather has a few things he wishes to discuss with Emma,” the doctor said through gritted teeth as he began hauling my rebellious body back into the living room.
My eyes remained fixed on Emma’s restrained form through the doorway, sobs racking me from head to foot as I tried desperately to prise his hands off me.
“You mustn’t blame your stepfather, Abi,” he continued, “he just wants to protect you from bad people like her. Of course, if you had just been a good girl in the first place none of this would have hap—”
“Fuck!” he cursed.
My flailing fist made perfect contact with his groin and he buckled, tossing me onto the couch. Before I could run, he was upon me, one hand pinning me down while the other rummaged around in his bag on the coffee table.
I could hear muffled voices coming from the bedroom and then the sound of skin making contact with skin in a loud crack.
My father’s angry voice bit back and I realized Emma must have slapped him.
He emerged from the room, his cheek blood red, his hand thrust in Emma’s hair as he used it to drag her struggling form with him.
They moved to the kitchen and I heard him yanking open drawers. There was the flash of something metal and then they disappeared back into the bedroom, the door slamming shut on Emma’s terrified sobbing.
“Don’t worry, Abi, he won’t kill her, I think your stepfather simply wants to make sure that no man, or woman for that matter, could possibly desire her again.”
No! A surge of adrenaline rushed through me, giving me the strength to take him by surprise and make a break for it. I legged it to the bedroom, breaking through the door to find a barely conscious Emma lying on the bed, my stepfather holding her by the neck, the knife mere inches from her face...
“No!” I screamed running forwards just as my stepfather shot to his feet, his hand coming up to hold me back.