“Got something you want to say, princess?” He leered as he released Angel’s shirt from his fist.
He slowly moved closer, every hard, powerful step raising my already rapid heartbeat. He was standing above me, a cocky and determined grin now breaking across his lips.
“Why are you doing this?” I whimpered.
I needed to do this, I needed to pull the attention away from anyone else. I would not let him hurt anyone else.
“Why? Like I said, your debt is long overdue, darlin’. And I have come to collect.” He laughed, the sarcastic tone in his laughter making me shiver in fear. Fuck, what the hell was he talking about? I was completely in the dark. What the fuck have I done to deserve this? Does he think that it was my father’s fault he went to jail? Surely he isn’t that deluded, right?
I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts as something shone in the corner of my eye. I don’t know why it piqued my interest, but when you are staring into the face of death, a distraction is a welcoming sight from the reality waiting for you.
Turning my head ever so slightly, I squinted my eyes as I tried to make out what the object was. My vision wasn’t as good as it should be, the pain that pushed through my body like a raging bull had stolen my ability to focus. The throb of my head and shoulder was insanely painful, and I had no idea how much longer I could deal with it.
“I don’t understand, Jack. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I whispered, not wanting to aggravate him any further.
“Fuck no, you don’t understand. Nobody understands! Your father took something precious from me, so fucking precious. So now I am going to take something precious from him. You.” His voice was determined and unwavering.
What the hell did he mean my father took something precious? I didn't understand. My eyes quickly darted over to Angel who was still in a heap on the floor, I wanted so much to scream at him to wake up and help me. I wanted him to wake up, just to say “it’s okay.”
“Jack, please. Please don’t hurt me,” I whimpered.
I watched as a lazy grin appeared again as he slowly started to chuckle, bringing his right hand up to his chin. And that’s when I saw it, the glint that had caught my eye moments before. I gasped as Jack scratched the stubble on his chin, the scraping sound of his stubble overwhelming my ears as a slow beating throb pounded in my head.
“Do you know how many different ways you can kill someone with a knife, Neva?” He smiled maliciously, the blade that was scraping against his chin only moments before shone against the poor lighting in the room.
The room was silent, deafeningly so. It was as if Jack wanted me to answer his sick and twisted question. Did he really want me to answer? But my mind was now running into overdrive as this question settled deep within my body, I had come up with four different ways he could kill me with that knife. All as bloody and brutal as the next, but what scared me the most was the question that I had conjured up within my mind … just how many different ways could he kill me?
“I…I don’t k-know,” I stumbled, my fear escalating beyond comprehension.
“Well, princess,” he started, bending down on one knee in front of me, “if you want an instant kill, there are very few. Maybe around two or three, but we aren’t going for instant kill. We want slow, painful and torturous … just like what Brandon did to me.”
“What has my father got to do with all of this?” I asked, trying to keep my focus on Jack’s eyes and not on the deathly blade that rested in his hand.
“Your father? Your fucking father took something from me that I can never get back … have you any idea what that feels like, Neva? To have your world crumble underneath your feet?”
“YES!” I wanted to scream, how could he ask me such a question? He was the sole reason why my world crumbled underneath my feet, plunging me into the darkness that consumed me. Torturing me for a lifetime. Yes, I knew exactly how that felt. The feeling of pure heartbreak, daggers penetrating my heart over and over again as I lost control of reality. It is a pain that crushes your lungs, leaving you breathless, gasping for breath as the grief runs through your veins like a tsunami. It is a never-ending stream of misery, throwing you into a colorless world of suffering, while everyone around you smiles within the weight of the sadness. It is consuming. It is the reality of grief, my reality.
“Yes, Jack. I know exactly how that feels,” I whispered as memories of that night flashed before my eyes: the pain, and the heartbreak … the chaos.
“No, you don’t. You think you do, but you have no fucking idea.” He grunted, looking down at the floor between us.
“How can you say that?” I asked, my voice timid and close to breaking.
“Because you have never had a child ripped away from you, you have never had to stand there as your wife bled out and so close to death as my daughter slowly died from suffocation.”
What?
“You lost a child?” I whispered, the shock in my voice hard to mask.
Angel had never said anything about having a sibling, let alone a sibling that had died. My eyes quickly darted to Angel who was still not moving. Why didn’t he tell me? Did he know?
“No use looking at him for answers, it was before he was born.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes. I reminded him every single day when I picked up a bottle of whiskey.”
“What happened? And what has this got to do with my father?”
“What has it got to do with your father? Fuck! It has got everything to do with your father. He killed my fucking daughter!” he roared as he stood from his crouched position.
“He … what? I don’t understand! What the hell are you taking about?!” I screeched, my throat becoming tight with every heaving breath I took. Surely he was mistaken, my father wouldn’t have killed anyone. I knew my father, he wouldn’t have hurt a fly.
Jack suddenly started pacing as if frantic with grief and anger, I should have kept my big mouth shut.
“Your fucking father killed my unborn daughter! The stupid fuck drove straight into the side of my wife’s truck, completely smashing her side. She was seven months pregnant with our daughter, Faith.”
“I … no, you’re wrong,” I whispered. Shocked as to what he was telling me, he can’t be telling the truth.
“Oh, princess, you have no fucking idea! Your father walked away with just scratches, but my wife? My wife was hauled into an ambulance while blood poured from between her legs! I got there just as she was being taken away. Fuck! There was blood everywhere, the truck, the ground … everywhere. All I could see was red, a mixture of blood and anger.” He leered, moving into my line of sight again, blocking me from seeing Angel’s body on the floor.
“Please, stop,” I whimpered, he was close. So close that I could feel his breath against my neck. He was inhaling fast, as if taking in my scent. Rolling my stomach with every breath he took.
“My daughter suffocated, she suffocated to death because the placenta ruptured. My daughter was suffocating because your father was careless and reckless.” He pushed in, he was even closer than before. It was as if he had melted against my own skin, violating it, manipulating it and scarring it.
“Please, no. Stop,” I pleaded, the smell of stale whiskey penetrating my nostrils as Jack slowly swiped his tongue across the damp skin of my neck. Moving from the base before stopping at my ear lobe.
“My daughter died in my wife’s womb, they couldn’t get her out in time. The cesarean nearly killed my wife in the process, there was blood. Oh, so much blood.”
“No!” I screamed, thrashing my head from side to side as he chuckled into my ear. Bile quickly rising up my throat, it took all the strength I had left to swallow it back down.
“So you see, princess. You have no fucking idea about what it’s like for your world to crumble at your feet, you don’t know heartache, you don’t know grief. You lost your father … I lost my Faith.”
Blinding pain penetrated my chest from the cold and ho
rrific words that poured from Jack’s mouth, shattering what was left of my already fractured heart and tormenting my darkened soul. Nothing made sense, not one single shred of it. But one thing was certain, my father’s death was clearly no accident. Jack had sought out my father and killed him in cold blood. He was a cold blooded killer.
I thought I knew fear, I thought I understood it. The blindness, the numbness, the darkness. But the fear that I once thought I knew was nothing compared to what I was feeling in this moment. Fear is like a virus, seeping through your veins and infecting everything within its path. Your body tries to fight it but nothing will stop it, there is no cure for fear. You have to endure it, take it and push through it before it consumes you. Someone once said that ‘You have nothing to fear but fear itself.’ There were no truer words spoken, and that alone was terrifying.
I was terrified beyond belief, the fear consuming me and poisoning every inch of my body, seeping through the cracks of my internal war. When is this war going to end? How many more lives are going to be taken? The bloodshed, the heartache, the despair. How much more could I take? How much more could I endure from this? The questions quickly ran through my mind, tormenting me and mocking me.
“What are you thinking, princess? Shit, what I would give to be inside that pretty little head of yours right now.” Jack smirked, he was clearly enjoying this.
“You took your revenge on my father, but… what do you want with me? I still don’t understand.” I needed to know what I was going up against. I needed to know why he had me tied up in the basement of his home.
“It’s not about who you are, princess. It’s about what you represent. You represent something I can’t have, something I can never get back. You were created by your father, the man who killed my daughter. My faith, my everything.” He paused, as if thinking about his next move. “You were supposed to die that night. You cheated death once, you won’t cheat it twice.”
His voice rang through my ears as he moved the blade that now sat in his right hand to my right thigh. Trailing the slick, sharp edge of the blade towards the seam of my dress, moving closer and closer to the gap between my legs. Sweat coated my body like a second skin as my breathing became erratic. All I could focus on was the slow, torturous sting that followed the blade up the inside of my thigh.
"Please, stop," I whimpered. I wanted so much to throw him off me. But the rope that bound my wrists was tight, I wasn't getting out of it.
“Leave her alone, Jack.” Angel’s voice quickly cut through my fear, penetrating somewhere deep inside me. Thank god, he's alive.
“Don’t you ever learn to shut your fucking mouth?!” Jack sneered, turning towards his son, who was struggling to stay upright.
Jack quickly left me on the floor as he leaped up and walked to where Angel stood, gripping him by the collar and drawing back his fist.
“No, and I don’t intend to start anytime soon,” Angel spat back, shocking the shit out of me. What the hell was he doing?
“You son of a b–"
My eyes suddenly grew wide as I watched Angel fly his fist straight into Jack’s head, hitting him hard enough to knock him onto his knees. Releasing Angel from his grip.
The knife that was in Jack’s hand had gotten thrown across the room, landing on the floor in front of my feet. As I watched, further terror engulfed me. Jack and Angel were scuffling on the floor, both raining fists into each others bodies as each tried to dominate the other.
I watched as father and son unleashed years of hate upon each other, the silence in the room only broken by the cries of pain and the unforgiving sound of bones shattering. The terror was quickly pushing me over the edge and I needed to take some control. The indecision about if I couldn’t get out of my restraints suddenly hit me, what would happen if one of them got the upper hand on the other? I had no idea who would be the better person to face, Jack or Angel? Both men were ticking time-bombs of self-destruction. And no matter who walked away from this, I knew that the one left behind wouldn’t be the only victim. I was going to go down.
Pain like I had never felt suddenly ripped through every muscle as I moved my right leg to reach the forgotten knife. Every single tendon, ligament and bone protested as I placed my foot over the knife, sliding it towards my body and kicking it hard with the back of my heel. Sending it towards the wall I was propped up against. My mind quickly blocked out the pain, I was no longer struggling for every breath, but relishing in the fight. I was ready to fight.
My body screamed, begged and protested against me as I moved, slowly reaching out for the knife now within arm’s reach. I ignored it, I wasn't going to let the pain take over again. My wrists burned as the rope chafed against my raw skin as I took hold of the knife, the cool metal chilling my burning skin. The whole while, I never took my eyes from the men who were fighting their own war. Fighting for survival.
Jack suddenly straddled his son by his hips, taking the attention away from the knife that I held in my right hand. Jack had Angel pinned down by his hips while he threw punches into his face, forcing blood to pour from his nose and lip. I winced as Angel suddenly cried out in pain from the brutal force of the blows, trying hard not to scream at the man responsible for my father’s death who was now pummeling the man I loved.
Rage rapidly ran through my veins like a freight train ready to derail. Angel had lied to me, he had lied about everything. I trusted Angel, I fell in love with Angel, and I was healing because of Angel. But even through all of that, my rage was undoubtedly pinned on Jack.
Tightening my grip around the knife, I started to cut through my restraints. The awkward angle made it difficult to get a clean cut through the rope, but I was determined. I was sick of being the victim, I was sick of being the broken shell of the girl I knew I was.
I suddenly felt the tension in the rope slacken, my body shook with relief as I ran my fingers over the large, red welts in my skin. With my wrists finally released from the confines of their prison, I was suddenly hit with the realization that I had no idea what to do. How the hell am I going to get out of this? Even if I manage to take some control, I had no idea where to go from there.
I couldn't move, all I could do was run through a thousand different scenarios in my mind. All of them involving me getting hurt in the process. What the hell could I do? Even if I managed to move from the position I was sat in, what could I do? Jack and Angel had a height and weight advantage over me, whatever I was going to do, it needed to be smart.
I looked around the room, trying to spot something I could use, I don't know what the hell I was looking for and I sighed weakly when I spotted my purse. It looked as though it had been thrown across the room hastily, the contents had spilled out and were scattered across the floor in different directions. As I scanned the darkened room, I focused on the small objects that had rolled onto the floor, making a list in my head.
Lipstick.
Wallet.
Compact.
I went over and over the list in my mind, but there was something missing. My cell. My eyes darted around the room frantically, searching for the one thing that could potentially save my life. But I couldn't see it anywhere. Where the hell was it?
I slowly placed my right hand in the pocket of my dress, nothing. Placing my right hand back behind my back, I used my left hand to search the other pocket. The painful welts on my wrist grazed against the fabric of my dress, I bit down on my lip hard, trying to muffle the cry that was about to escape my lips. Suddenly my heart crashed against my chest when my hand landed on the one thing that could save me, save me from the living nightmare. Discreetly, I pulled out my cell from my pocket, placing a call to the one person who I knew would do anything to protect me, Logan.
I listened for Logan to answer before placing my phone on the floor beside me, I wasn’t going to risk Jack hearing me talking to Logan. Keeping my gaze pinned on Jack’s back, I stood up from the ground. Pain shot through my body as I tried to place weight on my numb feet. I didn’
t know how long I had been down there, but my legs were aching enough to indicate it was at least a couple of hours. I quickly pushed the pain to the back of my mind as I tried to regain my focus. I needed to get out of here and I was taking Viv with me.
As I quietly walked towards Jack, I inhaled quickly as Jack raised his fist into the air. Ready to give Angel another blow to the jaw when a sudden scream erupted from my throat. Breaking the deafening silence.
“Enough!”
Jack suddenly froze as I drew the knife against his throat. I had no idea what I was doing, I didn’t know whether I was trying to save myself, Angel or take my own sweet revenge on his father. But I knew I needed to buy some time until Logan could get here.
“What are you going to do with that, princess? Kill me?” Jack asked sarcastically. The cockiness in his voice only pushing me further to the edge.
My knees quickly protested as I crouched down behind Jack, I was so close I could smell his vile breath, I could hear him taking a deep gulp of air. I was so close that I could see his son wide-eyed as he lay beneath his father, still pinned down by his hips. I was so close … I was so close.
I quickly pressed the knife closer to his skin, smiling as he took a sharp breath through his teeth. I smiled, I finally had the upper hand. This time I was going to take control of my demons, only this time they were real.
“Don’t push me, Jack.” I paused, leaning into his ear. “Right now, you have a blade a mere inch away from your neck and I am really curious to know if I cut you, will I spill blood or whiskey?”
My breathing was ragged, my hands shook, and my thoughts flew by at a hundred times a second. The rage that I had been harboring over this man for ten years had finally risen to the surface, taking over my thoughts, actions and even my voice. I had become a different person, I had become Jack. That thought alone shook me to the core, I needed to get out of here before I did something I would regret.
“Logan, if you’re still there, I’m at two-six-nine Marriott Drive!” I shouted over my shoulder, praying that Logan was still on the line.
Finding Me (Bad Boy #2) Page 2