I say nothing. I’ve got that part down. Silence is my friend. The first few times I tried to talk to him, he slapped me. The next few times he gagged me. When I moaned out a single complaint as I was gagged, he punched me.
Silence is my friend.
There are many other things that set him off, but I don’t know what they are exactly.
This one I know.
So I give him what he wants.
Nothing.
“Tell me!” he screams.
“No talking,” I croak out. The punishment is a swift smack to the back of my head. No talking means no talking. He did this to me often back when I was a girl. Make me answer a question then punish me for talking.
I can’t avoid the first hit, he makes sure of it. But as long as I stay silent, I can avoid the rest.
“OK.” He settles a little on top of me, his weight pressing me into the couch cushions so hard I have difficulty breathing. Maybe if I turn my head—
He yanks my face back with a firm grip on my hair. “I remember that trick.”
That trick, as he calls it, was me trying to smother myself when he was pushing my face into various things. The floor. The mattress in my closet. The pillows on the couch. I almost succeeded once, early in my captivity. But he caught on.
I lived. Again.
And again, living was not all it’s made out to be. It’s not always better to live.
“Tonight is our night, Daisy.”
He’s going to rape me.
“I’m going to show you how much I love you.”
After all this time, he’s finally going to get what he’s always wanted.
“And you’re going to respond with me the way you did with Asher.”
I don’t react. I can’t react.
“I saw you in the forest, Grace.” The venom spells out with my new name. “I found you a few weeks before that trip. I found your secret whore life on Twitter. And when you told the world about your honeymoon to the Caribbean, I had to go see who your new husband was. Imagine my happiness when I realized you were not on a honeymoon.”
He eases himself up off of me and then pulls me up by my elbow. It’s bent at a weird angle and I twist to relive the pressure and pain he’s inflicting. When I turn, we are face to face.
His mask is gone. His face exposed to me for the first time. It’s not a memorable face. It’s neither handsome or ugly. Brown eyes. Fair skin. Stubble that is not the least bit reminiscent of Vaughn’s sexy five o’clock shadow.
My stomach turns and I have to swallow down the bile as I avert my eyes. I’m relieved when I realize I don’t know him. I was always afraid I’d know him. He’d be someone I trusted. But he’s not. Just a psychotic stranger.
“Look at me.”
I don’t want to, but he grips my chin hard and yanks my head up. I force myself to meet his gaze.
“I was so happy when I figured out you were single. But then… all that died when I saw you with him. I’m going to kill him too—”
Too? He’s going to kill me first, then Asher?
“And I’m going to make him suffer. Even more than you.”
I chop him in the side of the neck, hammer-fist style, then follow it up with another one to the back of his head. He sways, but does not go down. Fuck! That shit’s supposed to work! I kick his feet so he loses his balance and he goes down, but he grabs my calf and takes me with him. I fling my fists wildly, but he’s so much bigger. So much stronger. I’m overpowered within seconds and a closed fist crashes against my temple.
I see stars. But I don’t give up. My hand reaches out, feeling the carpet for something, anything that I can use as a weapon. I’ve taken years of self-defense, I can do this! I can save myself!
A cord. I dig my fingers into his eyes. My other hand grips the plastic cord and yanks.
Another blow to the head and more stars. A lamp comes crashing down on the floor next to me.
He grips the hand that’s digging into his eyes and squeezes. I scream in pain, but my free hand grabs a shard of glass and stabs.
Blood is everywhere in an instant. It’s on my hand, on my clothes, splashing on my face.
“You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you now!”
I stab again and this time I hit him in the eye. He roars in pain, letting go of my crushed hand so he can manage the blood pouring out of his face.
I scramble up, crab-walk backwards a few paces and then get to my feet and grab an umbrella from a rack near the door.
He’s got one eye open, watching me stalk towards him. “What do you think you’ll do with that, Daisy?”
“It’s Grace, you asshole!” I stab him in the leg. Hard. Hard enough to puncture his jeans and his skin because blood shoots out from there too. He looks up and growls at me like an animal.
I grasp the pointed end of the umbrella and swing the handle at his face. It hits with a whack and he falls back to the floor.
“Asshole!” I scream again as the adrenaline races through my body. “I hate you! I hate you!” I kick him in the stomach with my bare foot and then I step back, terrified that he’ll get back up, terrified that I won’t be able to get out of the house. Terrified that I’m still not safe.
I’m still not safe.
I lunge for the computer and pull up the only lifeline I have.
Twitter.
Chapter Fifteen
THE farmhouse looks cold and desolate. “Does someone live here?” Felicity asks.
I pull the rental car up to the dilapidated structure and turn the engine off. There’s cows in a pasture not too far off and the corn is tall and turning brown, indicating it’s almost ready to harvest, so apparently, that’s a yes.