Chapter 30
Run for your Life
Callie
“Shut the fuck up, or I will knock you out,” he tells me, the blade of his knife pressed into the hollow of my throat.
My hands are pressed to my mouth, sweat running down my temple, tears flowing over my knuckles.
I shake in fear, adrenaline flooding me.
My vision is blurry, and I can’t tell if it’s tears or I’m about to pass out.
My hair is twisted around his fist, causing me to lean back to make space between us.
Pulling his other arm back, a solid hit lands to my jaw, forcing a cry from my lips.
Tilting sideways from the blow, he releases my hair, and I fall onto the sofa before slamming my side into the coffee table.
Pain shoots through me before he twists his hand in my hair again and pain prickles my scalp.
Dragging me down the hallway by the hair wrapped around his fist, I hear the front door slam against the entry way wall as someone forces their way through it.
Relief floods me, breaking through the terror.
Pushing me into the closet, he follows me in, closing the door behind us.
I cower in the corner, my breaths shaky, sobs ripping out as I frantically cover my mouth with my hands, trying to keep the sound in.
Grabbing the back of my neck, he pulls me in front of him—a shield.
His knife, long and glinting in the sparse light, presses against my ribs.
My chest expands and falls rapidly, and I’m on the edge of panic.
I can’t suck enough air through my teeth. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
The edge of my vision goes from blurry to black.
“Callie, I will kill you. Calm the fuck down.”
My lungs are tight, my fear controlling me.
My skin is clammy, slippery. My shirt is stuck to me.
My flesh is covered in goosebumps; my hair prickles.
My heart racing, time seems to slow, agonizingly slow.
The tip of his blade pierces my side, just enough to bring a sting of pain.
His hand around my throat tightens as I strain my ears, trying to hear them, trying to find them in the apartment but all I can hear is my heart pounding.
The sound of it is deafening. The darkness is too suffocating.
His breaths are too harsh in my ear as his body presses against mine. I feel sick, I might throw up.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.