by Evie Harper
“I want to hurt him. Make him bleed and scream,” I reply.
She raises the rusty scissors in the air and says, “Time to wake an asshole up then.”
I reach out and she slaps the scissors into my hand.
“But we can’t be long. Donovan’s guys will be back anytime and we need to let our guys know where we are before then.”
I nod to her and move toward Donovan. I notice his fingers are lazily moving. He’s waking up.
I twist the scissors around in my grip and place the handles together in my palm with the sharp end pointing down. I want to wake him up with pain. Yes, I want to hear him scream, right now. With that thought, I slam the scissors down into the back of his left hand.
The scream which rips from his mouth is intoxicating. It fills my veins and gives me purpose.
Donovan bucks in the chair, confusion written all over his face. His eyes roam the room crazily and then his gaze settles on me. His focus then goes to the pain and the scissors firmly planted in his hand.
“FUCK! You bitch!” His voice is guttural and I spot tears seeping from his eyes.
I take a step forward and very slowly I pull the scissors out of his hand. A long, agonized scream bubbles up and out of Donovan.
My heart’s pumping madly at seeing the red, sticky blood on the scissors.
I glance to Donovan and put my hand over my mouth in a fake, shocked expression.
“Oops, was that your hand? Is this your blood?” I point to the scissors with a grin on my face.
“You fucking bitch.” His voice is low and shaky.
He glimpses Alexa, who is standing behind me. She shrugs and leans against the wall with a bored look on her face.
I smile and move to the other side of the chair and stare down at his other hand. Those big, vile hands that have strangled and bruised me so many times.
I raise my arm and Donovan shouts out in protest. “No, no, no, no, no. Argh!” as I plunge the scissors down into the back of his other hand.
I stand back and watch as Donovan thrashes around in the chair. His face cringing as the movement hurts his injured hands.
My body is buzzing with excitement and power.
I step forward and again, I slowly drag the scissors out. The tormented scream from his lips to my ears is magnificent and overwhelming. Hearing a person in pain does cause my soul to flinch, but knowing it’s Donovan only drives the desire in me to do it again.
God, if he’s in this much pain just from his hands, I can’t wait until I reach his groin area.
Blood seeps from his hands, around his fingers and drips onto the carpet. Donovan bleeding before me, defenseless and weak. I’m searing this memory into my mind.
He lets out a crazy laugh and says, “You are fucked, Emily. Whatever you do to me, I will do to you tenfold when I’m out of this fucking chair,” he ends in a frustrated yell, still thrashing around trying to free himself.
“You aren’t leaving this house alive, let alone that chair, Donovan. You are the one who is fucked. Now, where should I stab you next? Ah, I know, your thighs, let’s work our way up to your pathetic, disgusting dick shall we?”
Donovan tries in vain to lift the chair with his toes in order to get away from me. I laugh. It’s a sound I’ve never heard come from me before. It actually reminds me of him. I freeze on the spot right before I stab his thigh and a little girl’s giggle drifts through my mind.
I swear if I turned around, she would be standing right behind me.
My dream. My family. Could I still have that if I took a life? If I turn to the dark side for just a moment, would I be able ever to fully leave the dark, or would this moment follow me for the rest of my life?
I step back from Donovan and look around the room. A crushing weight hits my chest as I realize what I’m doing. This isn’t me. This is him. This is what he does to people. This is what he did to me. He stripped me of my dignity and power and destroyed me. I won’t let him turn me into a monster. I won’t go down that road. He will die, but he won’t take me with him.
Taking a life isn’t something I can do. My soul already holds too many scars. I won’t give it another. Killing, even someone like Donovan, isn’t built into me. I won’t be able to move on from something like that. He’s tainted my life for too many years. I won’t let him have another second.
I turn to Alexa and say, “Call the guys. Tell them where we are.”
I drop the scissors to the ground and walk away from Donovan.
“You think he’s coming for you. Your fucking boyfriend.” He spits out the word boyfriend as if it’s a bad taste in his mouth.
I move up next to Alexa as she begins to dial a number on her cell and we both turn around to face Donovan. How does he know about Kanye?
“He’s not coming for you, ever. We received information they were headed for the airstrip. Where I knew all along they would go if I took you toward an airport. That’s where my guys were going, to kill him and whoever is with him. Then no one can fucking follow me or you, Emily. No loose ends this time. I’m fucking smarter than Marco. Dumb fuck should have done this in the first place.”
Alexa softly breathes out, “No.”
I extend my hand and speak in a panicked voice. “Give me the phone, Alexa.”
She quickly hands over her phone, and when she does, I can feel she’s shaking. I tip my head up to her and notice the fear in her eyes.
“Joseph is with them?”
“Yes,” she says softly and her eyes go glassy.
I hold her hand and state, “It’s going to be okay. They can take care of themselves.” My voice comes out strong; however, I’m not sure I completely believe my own words as my heart continues to pound against my chest.
I dial Kanye’s number. It rings out only once before a panting Kanye answers, “Where are you, Alexa?”
Thank God. My body instantly relaxes and I look up to Alexa with a smile on my face.
“Kanye, it's Emily.”
“Emmy, baby. Fuck. Are you okay? Where are you?” he demands.
“I’m fine. Alexa is here and she helped me escape. Donovan is tied to a chair at the moment.”
I peer up to Alexa with expected eyes and trail off to Kanye, “We are?” Alexa quickly answers for me loudly into the phone.
“We’re in an abandoned house on the right side of the airstrip. Its yellow and the only one on the road. You can’t miss it.”
“Okay, girls, hang tight. We’ll be there soon.”
“Wait, Kanye!” I yell into the phone before he can hang up. “Donovan sent some guys to the airstrip for you all. They’re trying to kill you. You need to be careful.”
“I will, Emmy. Don’t worry about me. We came prepared. Jake had everything we needed in the trunk of his car. They’re on the other side of the strip looking through some warehouses. I haven’t heard gunshots. I’ll call them and we’ll get out of here and come to you and Alexa.”
I let out a big breath, feeling so much better now having talked to Kanye.
“Okay, I love you, Kanye, please be careful,” I beg. My words come out strangled as my lips tremble with relief.
“I love—” Kanye doesn’t finish his sentence, as there is a loud bang and then an oomph from Kanye. “Ah, fuck. I’ve been hit. Fuck, Emmy, get out of the house, run and go with Alexa now. Leave and get somewhere safe!” Kanye shouts into the phone.
I’m frozen. Pure, undiluted fear has taken hold and my voice is too petrified to speak. My mouth won’t move out of fear that time will shift to the next moment, reality will come slamming down onto me, and I will lose the impossible. Lose what I will never recover from. I can’t even think the possibility.
I listen helplessly as the phone falls to the ground and Kanye continues to scream at me to run and find safety.
I flinch, my body recoils on the spot as I hear another gunshot and then nothing. Silence. No more shouts from Kanye.
“No!” My heartbroken scream booms around the small liv
ing room. That’s all it does, bounce off the walls in sound waves. It doesn’t save Kanye, and it can’t save me.
Heavy footsteps come closer to the phone and then the line goes dead. Kanye!
My knees are shaking violently. Unable to hold myself up, I fall to my knees. Silent tears sear down my face. Sobs are begging to be released, but I can’t let them go. I want to be numb. I want this crippling agony and sorrow to dig a deep hole into my soul and never be released.
“What?” Alexa asks, her voice shaking. She shakes my shoulders roughly and screams, “Emily, what happened!”
“He’s dead,” I whisper.
Tears reach my lips and I lick the salty grief into my mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Oh, my God,” Alexa whispers and falls to the ground beside me.
My chest shutters and a sob explodes from my mouth and it fills the room.
Vaguely, I hear Alexa speak on the phone, yelling to Joseph to find Kanye and get out of there. She describes the house we are in, but it doesn’t matter. I may as well be left sitting in this same spot until my dying day. Life will never be worth living now.
“What’s that?” Alexa asks.
At her words, I focus my hearing and hear the ringing of a cell phone.
“That’s my guy telling me if he’s finished the job.”
Donovan. I’d forgotten he was even here. His name is hissed in my mind, said with such hate that even I’m terrified for what he is about to go through.
I spring to my feet and go directly to where I hear the ringing coming from. It’s in his pants pockets. I don’t pause for even a second, my hand dives down into his pockets, and I pull out his vibrating phone.
What if Kanye’s still alive? What if he’s just been shot and needs help. My heart races with hope. I swipe the screen and bring the phone to my ear.
I’m meet with heavy breathes, seconds of silence and then, “It’s done.” And then he hangs up.
Dead dial tone. Dead air. Dead Kanye. Dead heart.
Goddamn it, Emmy, will a day come when I can ever say no to you?
I clutch my chest where my breaking heart sits.
I love you, Em. One day, I’m going to a put a ring on your finger instead of a rose on your wrist.
A cry explodes from my lips.
Our life will be filled with smiles. We will be happy Emmy. Even if it fucking kills me, we will be. These are our dark day’s baby, but they won’t last forever.
My heart is begging me to stop, to block whatever is ripping through its just-healed flesh. It’s crying. I’m crying. My soul is dying.
My mind wraps around my memories. Wrapping them up tightly, preparing to protect them. Never forget.
“Emily,” Alexa whispers softly to me, my name escapes her trembling lips.
“Had to be done, Emily. I couldn’t risk you getting away again, and this time it will be better. You will always be with me. No more waiting months to have our time together.”
My body locks up. Indescribable rage sears through me. Not even when men took my body against my will, not even when I heard the screams of my friends while they were being beaten and raped did I feel this surge of madness. Never have I craved death and destruction this much.
I roll my hands into fists and find the cell still in my grasp. I squeeze my hand around it painfully, and then with a violent scream, I peg it at Donovan’s head. It strikes him in the temple and he grunts in pain. Instantly, a gash opens on his temple and blood oozes out.
I spin around recklessly, searching for something else to smash on his head. I need destruction. I need to feel the chaos. Anything is better than this anguish.
Donovan laughs loudly into the room. The laughter is shrill and like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.
I grind my teeth together.
“Is this what I missed in the beginning? Is this how you started out in the collection? Damn, I missed some good times then.”
His insane words barely penetrate my thoughts. My mind is too chaotic. Too many ways to torture and kill are running through my head.
“What’s in your car, Alexa?” I demand.
“Wh-what?” Alexa asks confused.
I spin on her, not in the mood for wasting time and say impatiently, “Tools. Do you have any tools, guns, knives, or a jack hammer? Anything to fucking kill him with,” I hiss and point to Donovan.
Alexa looks to Donovan then back to me and quickly nods. “Yes, I have a tool box in my trunk.” As soon as Alexa finishes her sentence, she’s jogging out of the house and to her car.
“You really think you can kill me? You couldn’t do it before. What makes you think you can do it now?” Donovan asks in a smug voice.
I cringe at his hearing him speak. I can’t tolerate his very existence, let alone hear his damn voice.
I pin him with a glare. “Before, I had something to live for. Before I had a future. Before I had the world at my feet. Now, I’m as good as dead and I’m taking you down with me.” My voice drips with contempt for him.
Donovan pales. My emotionless tone and honest words break through his cocky persona and he finally realizes he is going to die in this room, with me, very soon.
The sound of a clanking toolbox is heard before Alexa walks back into the bare, ugly living room. A room that will be forever branded into my mind.
Alexa heaves it down onto the sofa and opens the lid. She moves back as I move forward to survey what tools she has. It’s full of different types of screwdrivers, wrenches and other tools I don’t even know names for.
I choose a blue screwdriver that’s stained with grease and dirt. It looks old and blunt. Perfect.
I focus on Donovan who’s looking at me with panic and fear on his ugly face. I slap the screw end of the tool into my hand a couple of times, taunting him.
“Where should I stab you first?” I inquire.
“My guys are going to be here any minute, Emily. You fucking stab me again with those or anything else, and I promise you, you will regret it when I have you tied down later,” Donovan hisses at me.
That reminds me. I look back to Alexa. “You should go. Before his men do come back here.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m in this until the end. I should have helped you years ago and I didn’t. This time I’ve got your back.”
Alexa’s words blow me away. She’s guilty. That’s why she’s been helping me. She regrets being a part of Marco’s empire. From what Lily has told me about Alexa, she was badly beaten for trying to help women escape.
I wish I had enough emotion left in me to care and tell her it’s okay, that I forgive her. But I don’t. Rage and revenge rules my direction. Not revenge for my lost five years, that seems so minuscule compared to a lifetime without Kanye.
I’m staring at the devil in the chair who has taken everything away from me.
Never again will I admire Kanye’s bright smile.
Never again will I hear his deep, husky laugh when he thinks I’m being adorable.
I imagine myself at a family barbecue, looking around the crowd of people hoping to see him, but knowing he’s not there.
I see my rose garden in my mind and Kanye is there, standing in the middle, just staring at me.
I was supposed to have my first Christmas with him again this year.
And the one thing I held in my grasp for a mere few hours. A family.
I dash my tears away roughly and wipe those thoughts from my mind.
My mind detaches from my body. The part of myself who doesn’t want to do this, who could never do this to another human being.
I’m looking at Donovan but I’m only now just focusing on him. He’s peering up at me like a wounded animal ready to flee. I step forward and he flinches. I smile. It’s a sadistic, uncaring smile, one that takes great pleasure in his torment. This will probably be the last smile I make in my life. I decide it’s time to get a few things off my chest.
I start speaking and I’m not sure if it’s to Do
novan or to myself. But these are words I feel I need to let go of, no matter who they are said to.
“I had moved on with my life. I finally realized all those years of abuse were because you hated yourself. Those name—worthless, used, and pathetic—they were all about you. It’s how you see yourself.”
Donovan narrows his eyes and his face darkens with rage. I’m hitting a nerve.
“I am strong, intelligent, and loved.”
Donovan barks out a laugh, but before he can speak I cut him off.
“That’s why you’ve been obsessed with me all these years.”
His eyes narrow at me, a tremulous wave of emotions flare through his eyes. His expression screams at me to stop talking. It’s as if he’s trying to will my mouth shut.
“You envied me. You saw me surviving through hell and you envied me. You wanted to be me. You wanted to be as strong as me. As intelligent as I am and you are desperate for someone to love you as much as I am loved. But you aren’t me. You aren’t strong. You aren’t dumb, but you’re definitely not smart either, Donovan. And number one, you aren’t loved. You saw everything you wanted in me and you wanted to destroy me the way you had been destroyed. Or were you born like this and just wanted what you’d never had?”
“Fuck you!” he spits the words out in a shout. “You are as weak as I am.”
“No! I was weak but not anymore. I figured you out. You could take my body as many times as you wanted, but we both know who the weak one really was.”
Donovan lets out a laugh; it borders on anger and embarrassment. His laughter turns to high-pitched screams as I take the opportunity to surprise him and plunge the screw driver into his left thigh.
“Ahhh! You bitch! Fuuuck!” Tears flow down his face.
I stand back and leave the screwdriver firmly wedged in his leg.
“What’s wrong, Donovan? You can’t fucking hack it, can you?” His face changes from pained to realization at me saying his awful words back to him.
I pull the screwdriver out swiftly and just as fast, I push it into his other thigh. He screams all over again, but this time it’s accompanied by begging.
“Ahhh! Fuck, please. Please stop! I promise I’ll let you go. Just fucking stop.”