by A. E. Murphy
“The truth is it didn’t start until the day I found out why I’d so suddenly lost you.”
Now I’m really confused and extremely hurt. I want to punch him in the nose. “You didn’t think I was worthy of more time? Another chance? Or is it the fact I’m damaged goods?”
“No,” he snaps, backing me into the corner and pressing his body to mine. He cages me in with his arms and leans into my ear before speaking so quietly I hardly register what he says. “Don’t you ever say that again. You are not damaged goods and you are worthy of everything good in this horrific world that has been so cruel to you.” When his hand moves to rest on my stomach between us, I close my eyes and let my tears fall, tears of confusion and hurt, tears of the drifting feelings and such an unjust attack on my body. “But I have to be cruel to you right now.”
“Just explain it to me, all of these cryptic little messages. Are you trying to keep the carrot dangled? Because you should know right now that I will never come back to you after you’ve been with that woman,” I hiss, prodding him on the chest. “I should tell you what she did. I should see who your loyalty actually lies with, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want anything to do with either of you and if it wasn’t for this baby, you’d never see me again.”
I turn towards the door and motion for him to leave.
“Call me,” he urges, ignoring everything I just said, which is really bloody frustrating. “Please, Cerise. It has to be you that calls me.”
“I’m not calling you, Tobias. You’ve made your choice. Rebecca.”
He growls a curse and stomps away before turning back, grabbing me and kissing me harder than he ever has before. I smack his shoulder but he releases me just as suddenly as he kissed me.
“Keep that fire, Wild One,” he mutters, his breath fanning across my lips. “Call me.”
This morning when I woke up, I ached from sleeping in a new bed for the second night. I’d gotten so used to sleeping in that firm bed at the centre. It was lovely after adjusting for a week.
This morning I woke up excited that I’d get to see Joy and Georgia, who were both coming this evening.
This morning… I woke up and felt like it was another start to another great day. Or so I thought.
An hour ago Dane and Kai left for a friend’s gig, so I just showered and dressed in my fuzzy pyjamas that are snug on my stomach, not up for greeting the world just yet.
Lockhart was right, I really am starting to look pregnant.
Joy and Georgia will both be here in an hour and we’re going to have a pyjama party, something I’ve never had with anybody but Sammy and, funnily enough, Lockhart.
So, as I’m preparing our snacks ready for later, I don’t hear the door open, nor do I fear the footsteps in the hall until they stop outside the kitchen door.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, gripping the counter at my back when I take in the man standing in the doorframe.
“I have a message.”
My heart is beating so rapidly it feels like I’m having a heart attack. The baby starts doing flips in my stomach as though suddenly trying to escape my body, which could possibly be in danger.
There’s a strange man standing in the doorway, a gun holstered in the belt of his black trousers. His head is shaved, sunglasses hooked over his shirt, and a long tattoo of a green snake slithers around his neck.
“A message?” I ask, stammering my words a little. “What message?”
He flips the bottom of his jacket open on the other side and reaches for a leather-bound knife. Then he brandishes it, tossing it from hand to hand, and I just have this horrible feeling I’m about to die.
I almost laugh at the thought that at least it’ll be with a cool leather handled knife with a ruby on the blade, because humour is my go to emotion when I’m scared shitless.
“From Mr Thatcher’s people.” His voice is so deep. My mind is running a mile a minute, taking in all of these little details that I wouldn’t normally notice. Like the scar on his lower lip the size of a finger nail, or the chunk missing out of the top of his ear as though bitten. He’s terrifying and I’m guessing he comes at a price.
“I have people coming, in literally thirty seconds,” I lie. They’re still half an hour away and, by his smirk, he knows it.
“You’re going to drop the charges tomorrow, before the trial.”
“What?” I breathe, still gripping onto the counter edge behind me so hard my fingers begin to ache.
“You’re going to drop the charges before the trial tomorrow.” He scrapes the knife across the papered wall beside the door, leaving a slice in the material.
That is freshly decorated and just extremely rude.
“Am I?” I ask, wishing he’d continue with his message and stop simply staring at me.
“Yes, you are.”
I shake as we look at each other and I can see it in his eyes that he’s getting a sick and twisted kind of thrill out of this. Thin lips are curved with a sneer that projects so much evil.
“Because if you don’t, the people we have sitting outside your parent’s home are going to pull the triggers of their weapons and watch them bleed out.” He says this so casually, I wonder how many people he has killed.
Boldly, with a strength I don’t think I have, I state, “How much is he paying you? Whatever it is, I’ll double it for you to leave.”
He just smirks.
Fuck.
My stomach twinges and I know the stress I’m feeling is upsetting the person in my womb that I feel so protective of. It’s a foreign feeling, fearing for the life of somebody I haven’t yet met over my own.
“There are things we’ll do that just the thought of them will give you nightmares,” he chuckles and takes a step into the room.
No… No… NO!
“Please just leave.”
“He told me to cut the baby from your body and have you watch it as it dies if you don’t comply.” He laughs evilly and I feel the bile rise in my throat. “We could do that.”
When he takes another step closer, I place my hands over my stomach and turn to search for something I can defend myself with.
Big mistake.
Huge.
He lunges for me, his arms outstretched. With a loud scream I jump to the side, trying to escape, but he grabs my hair at the last second and yanks me back. My neck snaps backwards making my knees buckle and my brain slam against my skull.
“Stop!” I scream as his thick hand stretches around my throat and then squeezes. My nails dig into his leather clad wrists, trying to get him to release me as I feel myself choking for air. My eyes burn and swell as my face heats with trapped blood. “Please,” I try to beg, but he holds me tight against his chest and squeezes tighter.
Just as tunnels of dark crowd my vision, he releases me, shoving me away from him so hard I stumble and pain shoots through my head as my forehead connects with the refrigerator. Without hesitating, ignoring the dizziness and nausea I feel, I scramble to my feet, grabbing the bin and tipping it over behind me as though that will slow him down.
He just laughs. I hear his deep, scratchy voice and it terrifies me. I can hear him walking after me as I run to the door and start fumbling with the multiple lock system.
It’s supposed to double our safety, not hinder our ability to escape.
How did he even get in here?
Tears spring to my eyes when he grabs me again, just as I pull open the door, and tosses me like I weigh no more than a kitten. I fly down the hall, twisting at the last second and landing on my back and side instead of my stomach. My ribs give a sharp, unbelievable pain of protest, making me scream again.
I can taste blood in my mouth.
“I forgot how fun this was.” He looms over me, his smirk still in place, the knife he held in the kitchen back in his hand. “I might just kill you anyway. It’d be a problem solved and my charges would double.”
I slide backwards on the floor, pulling myself with my hands until I feel the so
fa at my back.
He takes a picture of me on his phone, his knife still in his hand. It’d be a weapon to admire were it on a display and not being wielded by a fucking maniac.
Taking this moment of distraction, I propel myself to my feet, almost slipping on the soft flooring, and run for my bedroom. There’s a thudding feeling against my lower back and a strange pain erupts through my hip, but I don’t pay attention to it.
Mind over matter, I chant inwardly and the pain vanishes as my pulse speeds up.
I make it and slam the door behind me, turning to lock it just in time.
I hear him curse and there’s a loud bang as the knife comes through the wood and slides back out again, leaving sharp, needle like splinters sticking out around a thin hole.
I’m stuck in slasher movie hell. At least I haven’t fallen over yet.
My phone is on the desk on charge. I grab it as another bang sounds at the door and dial emergency services. It rings and I start sobbing when they answer, unable to control myself.
“He’s going to kill me,” I shriek as the door shakes with another bang. I don’t have anything to pull in front of it. I don’t have anything to defend myself with. I tell them my address as calmly as I can, still sobbing, my body tense with fear. “He’s big, he’s bald, he has a snake tattoo on his neck, he has a gun and a knife. I’m pressing charges tomorrow against Richard Thatcher for raping me. He said I have to drop the charges. That’s why he’s here. He wants to cut my baby out of my stomach!”
“They’re on their way. Stay on the phone to me, Cerise, okay? Do you have anything at all you can use?”
I snatch my laptop from the side after dropping my phone off the bed and hold it up.
“Come on now, Cerise, be a pet and open the door for me,” the man chuckles and the door bangs again. I see the lock protest.
“I’ve called the Police,” I shout. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“In that case…” He gives a final powerful kick to the door and it springs open.
“He’s in the room,” I tell the lady on the phone. “His eyes are brown…”
“They already know who I am.” He grins as though this is an achievement. “They just can’t catch me.”
“Cerise, put your bed between you. Anything!” The woman on the phone yells. I can hardly hear her.
Then he stops suddenly and his body becomes a concrete statue. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he drops forward, face planting on the ground with a loud smack at the foot of my bed.
I see the long handle of my own breadknife from a drawer in my kitchen sticking out of the base of his skull before I register Lockhart standing behind him, blood covering his hand, his chest heaving.
“Cerise!” The woman on the phone yells, but I can’t speak as I stare at my aqua-eyed saviour. He clears the distance between us and catches me as I begin to drop, sobbing so powerfully no sound comes out. His strong arms hold me to his body. I feel the hand that’s moist with blood wipe on my bedding before grasping my phone.
He speaks into it. “She’s okay.” Sirens sound in the distance. “He’s dead. He had her cornered. I did what I had to do.”
Now when I sob sound does come out and Lockhart picks me up in his arms and carries me into the living room.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, waiting for me to calm as seven armed and dangerous looking policemen storm into my apartment. “He’s in there.” He nods to my room, placing me on my feet and stepping away from me once my crying has calmed. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, confirmed, it’s him. He’s deceased. Knife to the back of the head,” one of the officers states as he crouches over the dead man as two others completely disarm him.
One comes to us and demands to check me over. He clicks his fingers in front of my eyes and prods and presses numerous points of my body until he gets to my ribs and I cry out.
“Get her off her feet. I’m calling in an ambulance,” the man with sharp grey eyes says to Lockhart, who gently lifts me and lies me on the couch.
The scene around me is just a blur. I can’t focus on anything. I feel numb.
“I’m just going to make sure there’s no immediate damage,” the officer says and I see Lockhart talking to his partner. “Nothing I have to stitch up. There’s a lot of blood and you’re in shock. I bet you’re not feeling much right now, are you?”
I shake my head and wipe my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Do you remember my name?”
I shake my head again, or at least I think I do.
“It’s Luke, like Luke Skywalker, except I’m more badass.” He grins, his eyes sympathetic and his demeanour warm. “Can you squeeze my fingers for me?” I must do because he smiles wider. “Good lass.” He looks up at Lockhart. “I’m going to raise her shirt, figure out where all of this blood is coming from, okay?”
“Tobias?” I whimper and he comes to my side, crouching next to my head as Luke slowly raises my shirt.
His smile wavers just a fraction, enough to have Lockhart snapping, “What is it?”
“Broken ribs.” He presses my side gently again, making me scream and writhe in pain.
“Fucking stop!” Lockhart yells and Luke looks at him sympathetically.
“DON’T MOVE THE GIRL!” One of the men who disarmed him yells. “Don’t move her; don’t touch her.” Luke’s head snaps up and he catches a metal rectangular object in his hands. “It’s a silenced gun…”
Luke finishes for him, “There’s a bullet missing.”
“Barrel is warm. It’s recent. No bullet on the sweep through, which means…”
Lockhart runs his hand through his hair. “Are you telling me there’s a fucking bullet in my pregnant wife?”
“Possibly.” Luke tosses the clip back.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s the adrenaline.” Luke brushes my hair back from my face and holds my shoulder. “Do you remember him firing his gun at any point? Do you remember a sharp pain? It feels like you’re being punched and then it burns.”
“Really fucking bad.” I feel another hand on my shoulder and know they’re keeping me pinned.
“Maybe.” I shake my head but they panic and two more hands stabilise that too. Another smiling faced male pops over into my line of sight. “When I was running to my bedroom. But everything already hurt. Is my baby okay? Is she okay?”
“We won’t know anything until the ambulance gets here.”
Lockhart seems to be in shock himself. He just stares at my profile, unmoving.
“I thought that was it,” I say, my lower lip now trembling. “I thought I was going to die.”
Lockhart places his hand on my forehead and strokes my nose. “I thought you were too.”
“You called me your pregnant wife.” I raise a brow against his hand. “That’s a lie. I’m not your bloody wife.”
“Yet.” He states and Luke chuckles under his breath.
Another thought has me trying to climb off the couch and everybody around me panics, placing their hands all over me to keep me still.
“He said they’re at my parents. They’re going to kill them if I testify!”
Luke looks at the others and I hear one of them leave the room. “We’re on it. Trust me. We’ll get our best guys down there right now and join them as soon as you are safely in hospital.”
“No,” I plead, sniffling, and trying to turn my head towards Lockhart, but the hands at my head hold tight. “You have to go now. What if they know he died? What if they…”
“You’re amazing, Cerise,” Luke says. I can just see him out of the corner of my eye. Have my eyes always been this fuzzy? “I promise nothing is going to happen to your family. Okay? I promise. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you and we have his phone. We have his logs. We know his every move for the past few days. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Is he definitely dead?” I whimper and Lockhart continu
es stroking my nose with his thumb before replying, “Definitely.”
“You’re lucky your man got here when he did,” Luke states and I feel his hand on my thigh, applying pressure so I know he doesn’t want me to move my legs either. “I can hear the ambulance.”
“She’s losing too much blood,” Lockhart grinds out.
“I’m fine.” I smile at him when he leans into my line of sight. “I’ve survived a bigger loss.” When his lips twitch I blow him a kiss and continue, “Thank you for saving me.”
“OH MY GOD!” I hear Georgia scream. “Cerise? What’s going on, Lockhart?”
“You can’t be in here; it’s a crime scene,” one of the seven says.
“Go and talk to her,” I snap at Tobias. “She’s going to think I tried to kill myself again.”
Luke doesn’t even flinch at my admission, though if it was as blown up as I was told it was, he likely already knows.
“I’m not leaving your side,” Lockhart says softly. “Not for a second. Not ever again.”
“Yeah, like I’m going to ever go near you after Rebecca.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he hisses. “I came to tell you that it’s over. She’s been arrested for fraud. It’s all over.”
I jolt, anger lancing through me despite my current drama. “Are you kidding me? You think that I’ve been waiting for you to end it just so you can come back? Ew… you’re as delusional as she was shallow.”
“That sounded worse than I meant it. That’s not what I meant.” He blows out a breath.
He doesn’t get to elaborate as the ambulance crew arrive and he’s forced to wait outside as I’m strapped to a bed. I don’t know if it’s the blood loss that sends me out of the world, or the pain as they rock my body.
I feel somebody stroking my hand and singing a really sweet melody. An old tune, a classic, so soft and lovely.
“Stay awake, don’t rest your head,” she sings sweetly, stroking patterns along my arm. “Don’t lie down, upon your bed. While the moon drifts in the sky.”
“Stay awake, don’t close your eyes,” I continue with her, my throat sore and raspy.