To my dismay, he seizes this opportunity to plunge his tongue into my mouth. The taste of alcohol causes me to gag. As his fingertips continue to fumble with my zipper, I dig what little nails I have into his skin and tear his hand away. Though he abandons my zipper and grabs my hand to interlock our fingers and shoves it against my shoulder. I’m forced to twist in my seat and slam my back against the door. He removes his lips from mine, allowing me to seal my mouth closed once again. He liberates my hair only to remove my scarf before continuing to unzip my jacket. Within his eyes, I see the frustration emerge as he comprehends that the alcohol has affected his fine motor skills.
“John, please,” I whimper, yet my voice falls on deaf ears.
With my free hand, I deliver a stinging slap across his face. A sinister smile slinks across his lips.
He liberates my hand, allowing his own to join its twin and unzip my jacket with ease. Once again, I slap his face and chest, which only infuriates him as he lunges forward, grasping my wrists, and binds them together in one strong grip before pinning them against the headrest. The fingertips of his free hand snake their way up my chest until they seize the collar of my top and yank it down, tearing the delicate fabric.
“You know, angel, we could have done this the easy way,” he chuckles darkly. “But I guess I’ll just have to be like Angelo and take what I want.”
Take what he wants?
No. Oh, please, God, no.
And what in the hell does Angelo have to do with this? Angelo’s never taken anything from me. Ever.
“No!” I scream. “Get off me!”
Tears streak down my face. I thrash my body as I attempt to liberate myself from his grasp. But he possesses almost superhuman strength and keeps me trapped. His hungry lips plunge down on the exposed skin of my neck, where I feel his tongue slither across my tender flesh. I twist my head to evade him, while continuing to thrash my body until he removes his lips from me. With his free hand, his fingertips creep along my back before forcing my body to close the gap between us.
“No,” I sob.
He buries his face in my hair, releasing a nauseating groan of pleasure. I twist my head, allowing my mouth to seek for his flesh before sinking my teeth into it. He shouts out in pain as he draws away from me, holding his cheek, though to my dismay, his hand that binds my wrists together remains. I draw my knees towards my chest and use my feet to push him off me. As the gap between us widens, the fierce anger within his eyes penetrates my soul, terrifying me further.
“You're such a tease, Eva!” he yells. “You want this as much as I do!”
I clench my jaw as I deliver a kick to his stomach that forces him to release my wrists. I scramble to find the handle of the door, only to have him grab my wrist once again, pulling me around to face him and delivers a stinging slap across my face. I cup my cheek with my free hand. A trickling sensation oozes down my face from the corner of my right eyebrow.
“Please,” I whisper. “Not like this.”
Yet, once again, he ignores me.
His eyes have transformed from the soft caramel that emanated such love and kindness to two onyx stones that expel hatred. Once again, I find I'm paralyzed in fear. A blinding white light flashes across my vision followed by intense pain.
With all my might, I deliver another kick to his stomach and he falls back into his seat, granting me enough time to turn and grasp the handle, swinging the door wide and fall through it.
“Eva!” he yells.
The fear that kept me stuck to the seat of his car now compels my limbs to move me forward. I scramble on my hands and knees and yank the fabric of my skirt to liberate my feet. The frozen ground cuts into my palms, but I refuse to allow this to hinder my escape. John's voice closes in behind me and I whimper. Fire scorches my veins as I put all my energy into my escape.
The uneven ground and my clumsy feet cause me to tumble. My palms slap against the ground and I wince in pain. I scramble back to my feet, but John’s hands are already on me. He pushes me back to the ground, twisting me to lie on my back and straddles me. With one hand, he grabs my wrist, the other is around my throat, pinning me to the ground, and rests his weight on me. His lips search for mine, but I turn my head away.
My free hand searches the frozen ground until I find a large rock. I tighten my grip around it before putting all my force into swinging it against John. A sickening crack echoes in my ears and John’s body falls limp.
I scream and struggle to push him off me. His body rolls to the side. Blood oozes from his temple and his eyes are closed.
My eyes widen and I slap my hand over my mouth. “Oh gosh, oh my gosh, damn it, damn it, damn it,” I whimper. “I killed him. He’s dead!”
I scramble to my feet and run. The trees tower over me and the road ahead is dark. The silver moon creates ominous shadows, but I continue to run, eager to be out of the woods and far away from John.
My legs protest and my clumsy feet trip, causing me to tumble to the ground. I sit on my heels and bury my face into my hands, sobbing.
The frigid air intensifies, and I shiver vigorously. The cold bites at my fingers, my toes, my face, and the exposed skin of my neck.
I need to get out of here. I need to get home. But I don’t know where “here” is.
Eva, the gentle voice of Mr. Thompson says in my mind.
I scan the woods for him, but I'm all alone.
Eva, he calls once again.
“Yes?” my timid voice calls out into the darkness.
Call Angelo.
I furrow my brow. “How can he help me?”
Call Angelo, he says once more.
Without further questioning, I obey his command. Angelo answers within seconds.
“Angelo?” my voice quivers.
“Eva? What's wrong?”
“I need help.”
The muffled noises of chatter and dishes clattering filters through the phone. I hear Angelo's muffled voice for just a moment and then the background is quiet.
“Eva, I'm here. Where are you?” he says.
I open my mouth to speak, yet no words emerge.
Where am I? I can't say in the woods somewhere. What help would that be?
Mystic Pines, Mr. Thompson’s disembodied voice tells me.
Mystic Pines? I've never heard of a Mystic Pines before.
I hesitate to forward the information, and even then, I say it more like a question.
“I know where that is. I'm fifteen minutes away. What happened? Why are you there?”
My teeth chatter from the cold and fear. “John took me on a date.”
Shame washes over me before I reiterate the horrific events.
Though Angelo remains silent, I hear his footsteps echo through the phone, along with the chirp of his car before the door opens and closes. A smile dances on my lips once I hear the roar of the engine.
“He took you to Mystic Pines?” Angelo asks.
“No, he took me to some garden first and then a restaurant,” I tell him.
A fresh set of tears obscure my vision before releasing to slide down my face once again as I recall the details of the day.
All this time, Mr. Thompson was warning me about John, not Angelo. Even today he warned me. Yet, I was too stupid to listen.
I sigh heavily before continuing to relay the events of the day. “He was acting weird most of the day, unlike when Patsy's around.” I wrap my arms tightly around myself as a chill wind blows through the trees, tousling my hair. “It's freezing out here.”
“I'll warm you up soon,” he says, and I hear the sorrow and fear in his voice.
The tips of my fingers and toes hurt, as do my nose and cheeks. The stinging of my wound intensifies.
“He hit me,” I sob. “Among other things. I'm such an idiot.”
“No, angel, you're not,” he says softly. “He's the idiot for thinking he can do this to you.”
“But all day, since I got in his car, I could tell something was wrong and I
wasn't safe. I pushed it to one side and ignored it. And when things got worse, I was too afraid to ask him to take me home. Look where it got me.”
“Eva, don't blame yourself for this. He's the type of person who would force himself on you regardless of what you say and thinks he'll get away with it. Where is he now?”
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “I hit him with a rock.”
I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting to see John behind me. Then I remember his lifeless body.
“Oh, my gosh, I think I killed him,” I whisper, and my already erratic breathing heightens. “I'm so scared, Angelo.”
The roar of the engine intensifies. “I know, baby. Another five or so minutes and I'll be there.”
“What should I do? Should I go back to him?”
“No. Stay where you are.”
“But what if he’s dead?”
“I’ll deal with it.”
I rise to my feet and embrace myself. “Angelo?”
“Yeah?”
“I didn't disturb you, did I?” I ask.
“Of course not. You never could. Baby, if you ever need me, you call me, okay? No matter when.”
“Okay.”
“I just entered Mystic Pines. Do you hear my car?”
I lower the phone and strain my ears. In the distance, I hear the glorious sound of the Shelby.
“Yes, though I'm not sure where it's coming from,” I sniffle.
“That's okay, you will soon.”
The sound intensifies as it roars down the road.
“Shouldn't you slow down?” I ask him.
“Not until I find you,” he tells me.
In the distance, the white glow of his headlights appears. The hummingbird beats her wings for the first time tonight.
“I see you,” I cry with excitement.
Though stiff from the cold, I force my protesting legs to run towards his car.
“I see you,” I cry again.
“Yeah, I see you too.”
The tires screech as he stops the car. His silhouette emerges with the glow of the headlights shrouding him. Within a few strides, he’s in front of me.
I crush myself against him, tightening my arms around his neck as he tightens his around my waist. I bury my face in the collar of his soft peacoat and inhale deeply while absorbing the heat emanating from him.
“Eva, you're freezing,” he murmurs. “Let's get you in the car.”
I ease away to gaze into his eyes, though the light hides his face in the shadow. I nod and allow him to lead me back to the passenger seat.
I ease into the seat and hold my hands over the vents, allowing the hot air to caress my frozen skin that now seems to burn.
Once Angelo joins my side, darkness shrouds us until he turns on the dome light.
“Eva?” he asks.
I turn to acknowledge him.
As he scrutinizes my face, I witness the growing sorrow within his eyes. With tender fingers, he caresses the side of my face, causing me to flinch away from him as he touches the already-sensitive wound. His hand drops, while his features expose his anguish. A glaze of tears obscures my vision. As one tear escapes, sliding down my cheek to leap from my chin.
“I'm sorry,” I whimper.
He retrieves a handkerchief from his coat.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, angel. Can I?” he asks, raising the handkerchief to my eye.
I nod and lean back in the chair, all the while maintaining my gaze on him. He carefully presses the handkerchief to my eye and scans my body.
A flash of disgust washes over his face. “That son of a bitch,” he growls.
I look down to discover my jacket is open, revealing my ripped top and exposing my chest and bra, along with the hideous scars I never wanted him to see. Despite how cold I still am, I feel a hot flush stain my cheeks. I fumble with the zipper of my jacket to conceal my naked and mutilated body.
With my head low, I glance sideways towards him to discover his forlorn state. “I'm sorry, I didn't realize—”
His tender hands reach out to embrace me and I allow them. As he draws me against his body, I nestle my face against his chest to absorb his warmth.
“No, Eva, don't be sorry,” he says softly.
While he cradles me in his arms, I slide my eyes closed. He rests the handkerchief over my eye once more.
He lifts it a few times before speaking again. “It's not as bad as it looked at first. You won't need stitches,” he announces.
I never want to leave the safety and comfort of his arms, yet I know we can't stay out here.
“What about John?” I ask.
His lips rest on the top of my head, leaving behind a kiss. “I told you, I’ll handle it. Do you want to call Alice?”
“Okay,” I say, opening my eyes and nestle myself back into the seat before dialing her number.
“Hey, babe. How's your evening?”
I take a shuddered breath before reiterating the night to her.
“What?” she cries. “Where are you now?”
“Angelo came to get me. He's bringing me home,” I tell her.
“Okay, I'll keep an eye out for you and meet you downstairs.”
The moment Angelo parks his car outside my apartment building, Alice rushes towards the passenger door, yanking it open before I comprehend what's happening.
“Oh, my God, Eva. Look what he did to you,” she cries.
She offers a me a hand and helps me out of the car.
It isn’t long before Angelo is on my other side. Alice hooks her arm in mine while Angelo gathers my hand. I feel a little awkward being between them.
Angelo releases my hand to open the door for us and follows us up the stairs. I hear the front door click shut as Alice leads me to the sofa where she releases me to allow me to sit. I bury my face in the palms of my hands, hiding my shame from my audience.
A set of warm hands caresses my wrists, though I remain hidden. The scent I love so much imbues my nostrils, comforting me, and I wish I could unveil my face, to wrap my arms around him and hold him close.
“Eva,” he whispers.
I peer through my fingers and see the sorrow within his ocean-blue pools. I unveil my face and allow him to embrace me, not caring that his girlfriend is watching. I tighten my arms around his neck and nuzzle into the soft fabric of his coat.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
Though I feel Alice’s slight weight rest on the sofa beside me, I refuse to liberate Angelo.
The warmth of his breath flows down my neck, causing conflict to rampage in my mind. The hummingbird flutters around her cage, though I try to settle her. One wrong move and I’ll reveal my indiscretions to Alice.
Maybe Angelo realizes the indecency of our interaction as he releases from me, but he remains kneeling before me.
Such warmth and love expels from his ocean-blue pools as he gazes at me.
“You'll be okay, Eva,” he murmurs.
I force a smile.
Alice, who has waited patiently for her turn to embrace me, wraps her arms around my shoulders. She buries her face in my hair and groans.
“I want to kill him for what he's done to you. Eva, I'm so sorry I pressured you to date him,” she says, her voice catching.
I rest my hands on her arm as I turn to bury my face in her shoulder. “You had no idea what kind of man he was. You never met him. Besides, you were just as fooled as I was by Patsy's description of him.”
She sniffles before leaning away, wearing a forlorn expression.
“I still want to kill him, though.” With a tender hand, her fingertips trace the outline of the blood streaked down my face. “Let's get you cleaned up.”
She stands up and disappears, leaving me alone with Angelo.
He occupies her vacated seat, never once taking his eyes from me. His warm hand slips into mine, interlocking our fingers, before raising my hand to his lips and leaves a kiss behind.
I search for Alice, forever f
earful she will witness our indiscretions.
The sound of running water reaches my ears before I determine she's in the bathroom, drawing a bowl of water. It isn't too long before she emerges from the bathroom with a white bowl between her hands and our tiny medical kit tucked under her arm.
Though she acknowledges Angelo sitting beside me, holding my hand, she remains indifferent.
She shimmies over and kneels before me, resting the bowl and medical kit beside her. She rings out a washcloth she had hidden in the bowl.
“I warned you about crying, Eva,” she jests. “Now you have black streaks down your face.”
Though I've yet to see my reflection, I can only imagine my disgraceful appearance. Laughter splutters from my lips. Even Angelo chuckles beside me. A warm smile emerges on Alice's lips.
Alice gently applies the washcloth to the wound next to my eyebrow, gently dabbing at it to remove the blood. It stings and I wince, but I know it’s a necessary evil and keep still.
“I’m sorry, babe,” she whispers. “I’ll try be quick.”
Once she rinses the cloth, I watch the swirls of red and black spiral together in the water, encouraging the memories of the attack to materialize in my mind. My vision obscures before the tears release. With the back of my free hand, I wipe them away.
“Oh, Eva, I shouldn't have said that. It was totally insensitive of me,” Alice says, her voice saturated with remorse.
“No, it's not that,” I say, looking into her glimmering sea-green eyes. “I can't believe how foolish I was for getting into this situation.”
More tears flow as I sob.
Angelo releases my hand and envelopes me in his arms, supporting me as the rest of my energy depletes.
“Angel,” he whispers. “It's not your fault. Please believe me, baby. He's to blame, not you.”
My eyes slide closed as I nuzzle into Angelo's shoulder.
“I should let my nurse finish cleaning me up,” I mumble.
He liberates me from his embrace, only to clasp my hand once again. With my head hanging low, I turn back towards Alice who wears a warm smile as she resumes attending to my wound.
“There. We can see your beautiful face again.” She deposits the washcloth into the murky water, then gathers the bandages and tape from the medical kit. “It's not bleeding, but knowing you, you'll figure a way to open it up again.”
Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1) Page 26