Soulless The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,64
sharp pain and blood started to trickle down my lips as I landed on him.
I tensed my guts, trying to protect myself, and tucked my elbows close, using my left to hit him across the face. He took another swipe at me but I fended it off, keeping my elbows locked and my hands up, guarding my face. I hit him in the nose twice, causing him to cry out, then his whole body heaved as he bucked and threw me forward. I tried to catch myself and roll out of it but my head hit the metal of the platform and I saw stars. My body came to a landing, pain racing down my back, and while I was trying to shake the colors out of my vision he got on top of me and punched me in the face twice.
I was stunned and he grabbed hold of me by the front of my blouse, holding me up while he hit me again. I heard the cloth tear and felt my head hit the cold metal, a fog surrounding me. “It could have been really nice between us, Sienna, but you just had to go and screw it all up.” He was pacing around me now, and I saw him raise a leg and then felt a searing pain in my ribs. “Now you’ve exposed our location, you’ve ruined any chance of us having a pleasant evening, and what am I supposed to tell my bosses when I bring you to them? I was supposed to deliver you alive, but honestly, I don’t think that’s gonna happen now.” He kicked me again, and I heard a scream, and it took my sluggish mind a minute to work out that it was my voice doing the screaming.
“I mean, look at this.” He grabbed me by the face and shook me, forcing me to look at him. “You broke my nose. Sure, it’ll heal, but nobody does that. Not to me. Especially not some little teenage bitch that should have been grateful I even took the time to pay attention to her.” He punched me in the face again, but I could barely feel it by this point. “I mean, it would have been good between us. Better than you’d ever have again, that’s for sure. But you had to go and—”
I had steadily inched my left leg up, resting the bottom of my foot on the ground. I hoped he would just assume I was trying to curl up in the fetal position. I wasn’t, although I was sure that’d feel better than the way I was laying presently. My hand reached down, grasping, trying not to be obvious, while he was directing all his hatred at my face. I pulled the knife Glen Parks had told me to carry as a backup out of its strap. I was grateful, not for the first time in the last few minutes, that James had never gotten me out of my pants, or he would have seen it.
I brought the knife across his face with a blind stroke. I had aimed to land it in his temple, but he moved at the last second and I caught him with a jagged slash just under his left eye and punctured his nose. He let out a cry and screamed as he dropped me, my shoulders hitting the metal catwalk again, but without much pain this time. I rolled to my hands and knees, still clenching the knife. “I had to go and what? Save myself from doing something I’d regret?” I spit blood in his face as I got to my knees. “Thank God. I can’t believe I let you touch me, you soulless piece of filth—”
He yelled and jumped from where he lay to come at me, grabbing my hand that was holding the knife before I could attack him with it. He slammed me down again and I struggled, but I felt him reversing the grip. I poured the last of my strength into it, but he was too strong, too vicious. I stared into his scarred face as blood dripped down from his nose onto my forehead, smelled his breath, the foulness of it, all trace of sweetness gone. I felt the very tip of the knife against my belly, felt the first sting of pain as it pierced me, just a centimeter, as I fought to keep him from killing me.