TRAINWRECK 2: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Inspired by a True Event

by Nelle L'Amour

  “Did you like that, bitch?”

  A deep shudder ran through me. I knew that voice. Oh God! It was my assailant from the afternoon. How did he get into my apartment?

  “What do you want?” I whimpered.

  A different voice, female, responded. “Sarah, you know what I want.”

  I gasped. I was putting two and two together. My bag…my keys…left behind in the Waldorf restroom. She had somehow gotten here before me.

  The lights flicked on. She was seated on the couch, one long leg folded over the other and holding a cigarette. Catherine!

  “Give it to her again, Spike. And this time I’m going to watch.”

  Panic gripped me. Before I could scream, Spike rammed his fist into my gut again, this time with even more force. Clutching my twisted stomach, I coughed up blood and thought I might faint. Catherine laughed diabolically and then took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

  “Is that what it feels like when he rams his dick up your pussy?”

  The psycho bitch was making me sick. I heaved with pain.

  “And does he pay you for your services?” She reached into her clutch and pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Ari’s—the one on which he had written his cell phone number. Crumpling it in her hand, she flung it at me. It hit me in the eye and stung.

  “Should I call him and ask?” Slipping out my cell phone, which Spike had stolen, she hurled it at me, but I ducked just in time before it hit me in the head. She smiled wickedly. “Or, Sarah, perhaps you would like to.”

  I glanced down at it. Fuck. It was dead. Of no use to me.

  “Why are you doing this to me, Catherine?” I choked out the words.

  “Nobody steals from me. NOBODY! And, FYI, my name is Cassandra. Cassandra Golden.”

  She was sick. Sick, sick, sick.

  Smugly, she reapplied her blood-red lipstick and then took another puff of her cigarette. “Show the little cunt what you’re really made of, Spikey.”

  I was frozen with fear, unable to move. But this time instead of socking me, he tightly wrapped an arm around my aching middle and began to squeeze the life out of me.

  I gasped for air, fighting for consciousness. Think, Sarah, think. Without thinking, I dug the sharp heel of my stiletto into his foot as hard as I could.

  “OW! Damn it! You fucking bitch!” He loosened his grip around me, and I fled toward the door. Panting, I curled my fingers around the knob, but before I could turn it, Spike grabbed me from behind and flung me across the room. An excruciating pain shot up my calf as I tumbled onto the hardwood floor, landing with a thud and a groan. Chances are I’d done something bad to my ankle. Battling tears, I tried to stand up but couldn’t bear any weight on my right foot. Maybe I could crawl back to the door.

  But before I even had a chance, Spike loped up to me and gave my ribcage a hard, loud kick with his boot.

  “Like that?” he sneered.

  I moaned in pain, positive that he had broken at least one of my ribs. Clutching my stomach, I fought back waves of nausea but couldn’t stop the tears. I hurt so much everywhere and I could hardly breathe.

  “You’re so pathetic,” snickered Catherine, who was clearly enjoying every minute of this spectacle.

  “Please, Catherine. Don’t do this,” I wept out loud.

  Puffing on her cigarette, she rolled her demonic eyes. “Sarah, can I assume you’re just begging for more?” Her eyes flitted to her accomplice and her voice rose an octave. “You moron, what the fuck are you waiting for?”

  Without wasting a second, Spike slammed his body onto mine, knocking my head onto the floor. As I thrashed my arms and legs with the little bit of strength I had left, his wretched eyes held me prisoner while his fetid breath heated my cheeks. I tried to scream, but before I could find my voice, he cupped his calloused palm over my mouth so that I couldn’t.

  Oh, God! There had to be something I could do to fend him off. While whimpers clogged my throat, desperation filled every crevice of my being. In the background, I could hear the phone ringing again and poor frightened Jo-Jo meowing. Think, Sarah, think! And then it came to me. This warrior princess had a weapon! My tiara!

  On my next harsh breath, I tore it out of my hair and, with a muffled grunt, raked my assailant’s ugly face with its sharp edges.

  He screamed out in pain. Blood oozed from the deep gashes. With his free hand, he swiped at the bloody streaks. “You fucking, fucking bitch!” he shrieked as I did it again.

  “You idiot!” screamed Cassandra. “Don’t let her get away with this shit. Punish her!”

  Sarah, Warrior Princess, don’t give up! With Spike on the defense, I kept at it with the bloodied tiara, slashing him everywhere I could. He winced and cursed again. Terror gave way to courage. My life was at stake. Whatever the consequences, I was determined to not let Catherine win at her own sick deadly game. I only prayed that God was on my team and could help me beat the spawn of Satan and her accomplice.

  Sarah, Warrior Princess. Hang in there!

  Ari

  Despite the pouring rain, I’d never run so fast in my whole life. My lungs were burning as were my legs, and my heart was slamming against my chest with every painful step. I called Sarah’s home phone again, not letting it slow me down. Again, she didn’t answer and the goddamn voicemail box was now full. I also called Andre to let him know what was going on. Fear filled every crevice of my being as I sprinted through the soaked streets of the city, dodging spiky umbrellas, rainy-night strollers, and honking cabs.

  It took me only five New York minutes to get to Sarah’s apartment. Dripping wet and chilled to the bone, I ran up the steps of the brownstone taking two at a time and, then panting, pressed my thumb to her buzzer. Pressing it again and again, I gazed up and saw that her lights were on. I took that as a sign she was home. But why wasn’t she answering her intercom? Was she simply ignoring it—or should I say me—or was she in harm’s way? My gut told me the latter. Panic set in.

  “Sarah, fucking let me in!” I shouted out at the top of my lungs in desperation, the rain still coming down hard. “Please, let me in! Saaaa-rah!”

  My eyes stayed focused on her window as I continued to shout her name. Finally a window opened. But it wasn’t hers—rather that of the apartment below. A head filled with pink curlers poked out.

  “What’s going on down there?” the elderly woman yelled down at me. “I’m trying to get some sleep.”

  “Let me in!” I yelled back.

  “Wait.” Scrunching her face, she pointed a finger at me. “Didn’t I see you the other day with Sarah?”

  Jesus. The last thing I needed was a conversation with the hag.

  “I’m her boyfriend and she’s in terrible danger! Please let me in! Hurry!”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “As God is my witness.” A desperate line.

  “Oy!”

  The woman disappeared from sight, and a few ragged breaths later, a buzzer sounded, allowing me to enter the building. Without wasting a second, I swung open the door and charged into the dimly lit building. With my heart in my throat, I raced up the three flights of stairs to Sarah’s apartment, passing her neighbor, who’d let me in, on the second floor landing.

  “What’s going on?”

  There was no time to answer her.

  Sarah

  Spike’s face contorted in pain as I continued to shred it. Though my strength was waning, I dug deeper and deeper into his flesh with my bloodied tiara. His ugly face looked even uglier and more terrifying with the bloody patchwork of scratches covering it. Then finally, with force, he tore it out of my hand and tossed it across the room.

  “You fucking cunt. You’re mine now.”

  Unable to move or speak, my eyes stayed fixed on him, wide with terror. Oh God! Was this the end?

  BUZZZZZZ.

  “What the fuck?” he sneered at the sudden sound of my intercom.

  BUZZZZZZ. Oh my God! Someone was
here! Ari? It could only be him! If only I could free myself and let him in. But Spike’s weight held me down.

  The intercom continued to buzz and buzz.

  “Finish her off! And let’s get the hell out of here,” I heard Catherine bark at him, panic in her sharp voice. “We’ll go down the fire escape.”

  One more long buzz and then the buzzing stopped. All hope flew out the door. Ari was gone. He had given up. Another round of tears swam down my cheeks.

  “Just do it, you moron, and get it over with!” screamed Catherine.

  Still pinning me down, Spike released his hand from my mouth, and with all I had, I spat at him. His blood-streaked face reddened with rage.

  “That’s it, cunt!”

  I watched as he reached into his jeans pocket and then I gasped. In his hand was a pocketknife—a much bigger one than the one he had held to my face earlier in the day.

  “I prefer them big,” Catherine snorted. “What the hell are you waiting for, Spike?”

  With a flick of his finger, a six-inch, razor-sharp blade shot out of the knife. His eyes blazing with rage, he pointed it at me, aiming it directly at my heart. I was too paralyzed with fear to let out a scream or squeeze my eyes shut. On my next petrified breath, the cold metal plunged into my chest with a sharp ripping sound. At first, as warm blood seeped through my gown, I felt nothing. Then, a horrible pain permeated my body. An unbearable throbbing, like none other, circled my heart, coming in waves of intensity, sometimes sharp twinges, sometimes profound pounding. It was much like the heartache I felt when I decided to no longer see Ari, but magnified one hundred times over with the sheer intensity of it. Burning tears leaked from my eyes as the bodice of my pink gown quickly turned a shade of crimson and my breathing grew labored.

  “Say goodbye to your pathetic life, Sarah,” Catherine snickered. “Oh, and don’t worry about me. Assistants are a dime a dozen.”

  With all I had left, I rasped out the two words I had always wanted to fling at her. “Fuck you.”

  Stamping out her cigarette on the floor, she cackled. “No, you little whore. Fuck you. While you’re rotting in hell, I’ll be in happily-ever-afterville with my husband and son.”

  Her wicked words only added to the pain. Oh Ari! Oh Ben! I could taste my tears as my assailant yanked out the knife lodged in my flesh with a smarmy grin. He had finished what he had started this afternoon. He rose to his feet and admired his handiwork. His mutilated face and my surroundings became hazy as life ebbed out of me. The profound aching succumbed to numbness. The image of my mother’s beautiful, once youthful face filled my head and alternated with that of my beautiful Trainman. I was dying.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I heard Catherine say with urgency.

  In the distance, I thought I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs to my apartment. Perhaps my mind was just playing tricks on me—that the pounding was just in my head and this is what happened as life reached its end. And then a loud thud sounded at the door. BANG! BANG! BANG! SMASH! The door burst open and crashed to the floor.

  “Oy vey iz mir!” shrieked a familiar voice.

  “Call 911!” shouted another as he tackled my assailant, sending him sprawling on the floor. “You motherfucker!”

  Ari!

  “Spike, you moron, kill him!” shrieked Catherine.

  Her words whirled around in my head as my breathing grew haggard and life ebbed out of me.

  No easy prey, an enraged Spike staggered to his feet and charged at Ari with the knife in his hand. “Fuck you, asshole!”

  With lightning-quick reflexes, Ari dodged him. Then with one single flying roundhouse kick—straight out of a Power Rangers episode—he knocked the knife out of Spike’s hand, sending it flying across the room. Balling his hand into a fist, he plowed into my assailant and, with a loud grunt, sent him crashing to the floor, this time unconscious.

  It was all such a blur as I drifted in and out of consciousness.

  “What have you done to her, you fucking bitch?” I heard Ari shout out to Catherine.

  “I’ve saved you the time and effort of eliminating that lowlife little whore. I’m the only one for you,” she retorted while Ari ran over to me and crouched down beside me.

  “Jesus,” he muttered as he yanked off his tux jacket and held it firmly against my now numb wound. In his other arm, he cradled my head.

  I gazed up at him, and my lips curled up into a faint smile. “My Green Ranger,” I managed, my breathing labored, my voice just a whisper.

  His eyes burnt into mine. They were watering. “Saarah, stay with me. You can’t give up.” His voice was hoarse and tearful. He lifted my limp, bandaged hand to his lips and kissed my fingertips. Though I was numb, the touch of his velvety lips still made me feel alive.

  “I’m going to miss you,” I rasped.

  “Shh,” he said, smoothing my hair. A tear escaped one of his sapphire eyes and landed on my cheek.

  Sirens sounded in the distance outside. They kept on getting louder. Closer.

  Ari leaned in closer to me until his warm breath skimmed my cheeks. “Please don’t leave me. I love you, Saarah.”

  I knew it was the last time I’d ever hear him say my name. Hear that sexy lilt that made me tingle every time I’d heard it roll off his tongue. But I was at peace. Love has no age, no limit, no death. My Trainman loved me.

  As his lips neared mine, my eyelids fluttered. Terror consumed me. Catherine, with the knife in her hand, crept up behind him. I tried to warn him, but my lips wouldn’t move no matter how hard I willed them. I screamed in silence. With madness flickering in her eyes, she lowered the knife to his back. Noooooooooo!

  An explosion rocked my body…a flash of white light…and then everything faded to black.

  Ari

  There’s no such thing as a beautiful nightmare.

  As surreal as it was, I was living a real life one. A nightmare from hell.

  The events of the last few hours whipped through my throbbing head like a cyclone.

  All the blood. The explosion. The sirens. The gala was now a blur, having faded from my memory.

  A sudden chill ripped through me. Still in my soaked tux, I tugged at the blanket the paramedics had given me to keep warm while my weary eyes stayed locked on my fallen princess lying motionless in the back of an ambulance that was taking us to Lenox Hill Hospital. All color had left her fair face and it was now covered with an oxygen mask. IVs were hooked up to her thin arms, and a blanket like mine was wrapped around her along with what remained of her pink gown. By the time the paramedics arrived, the entire bodice was soaked completely through with blood. Without wasting a second, they ripped off the spaghetti straps and cut through the top of her dress so they could treat her massive wound. About three inches deep, it extended from her left collarbone to the top of her chest. Having spent a year in med school and been there myself before, I knew it was fucking serious. Even as the paramedics frantically worked on her, the blood kept pouring out with no end in sight. No one had to tell me they were dealing with a possibly fatal wound. I now knew how much she meant to me. She was no longer just under my skin. She was in my heart, a part of me. For as she lay there close to death, I was dying too.

  I took a much needed deep breath as I sat beside her, never letting go of her limp, ice-cold hand. Had she not been wearing the mask, I would have kissed her beautiful lips with the hope of breathing life back into her just like a prince’s fairy-tale kiss awoke his beloved Snow White. But deep down inside, I knew fairy tales didn’t come true. My so called fairy-tale marriage to Cassandra was a disaster and now this. My broken heart ached so badly I thought I’d cry out from the pain. Fucking Cassandra had succeeded again. And I hated her more than ever for doing this to me and to the woman I loved with all my heart and soul.

  After weaving in and out of the insane Friday night traffic that was made worse by the pouring rain, the blaring ambulance flew into the VIP entrance of Lenox Hill Hospital where just a few days
ago I had taken Sarah’s friend Lauren. The back doors of the emergency vehicle swung open and I jumped out. My heart in my throat, I watched as they wheeled my beloved princess out and transferred her to another gurney. But as they strapped her down, she began to convulse. My inner panic button went off.

  “What’s happening?”

  “She’s going into hypovolemic shock!” responded one of the paramedics, her voice full of alarm. “Quick. Move it! Move it!”

  Clutching the railing of the gurney, I kept up with the medics as they rushed her through the sliding electronic doors into the hospital. My heart was pounding.

  “Where are you taking her?” I breathed out as we raced through the halls of the hospital.

  “Straight to surgery.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I murmured, my pulse thrumming in my ears as I watched my baby shake violently.

  “Stay with me, my warrior princess.” In my strung-out state, I wasn’t sure if I’d said the words to myself or out loud. Her eyes fluttered. Either way, I knew she’d heard them.

  ###♥###

  I’d been in this hospital too many goddamn times. To visit my father as he lay dying…to be with my son after his premature birth and then later when he hit his head and fell into a coma…to be treated after my own brutal stabbing…and just the other night to deal with Sarah’s friend’s suicide attempt. And now, here I was again, perhaps dealing with the worst life or death crisis of my life.