Stalker - Clarissa Wild Page 0,93

him, I turn around and scratch him in the face, and then kick him in the balls. He makes an ‘oompf’ sound, and I crawl out from underneath him as he grabs his sack. I make a run for it, but he catches up to me again in the hallway, pushing me against the wall with his elbow in my throat.

“You fucking bitch,” he whispers. “Now you’re gonna get it.”

He pulls off his pants, twisting me around until my arms almost break, and then pokes me with his hard-on. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t want this. Please tell me this isn’t true.

Suddenly, he’s gone, almost like he’s whisked away by the wind, leaving my cold, naked body trembling against the wall. But that was no wind … it was a different kind of storm. An inferno raging in the form of a man I know all too well.

“Phoenix,” I whisper.

CHAPTER 25

VANESSA

I shudder in place, watching Phoenix tackle the guy and put him down on the ground.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Phoenix yells, his voice raspy from fury. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

His anger has me frozen in place as he beats the living shit out of the man lying on the floor, helpless to his relentless assault. He’s so quick with his jabs and punches that I can’t even keep up.

“You fucking laid a hand on her?” he screams.

“No, I was just …”

“You had your fucking dick out! You fucking piece of shit!” he yells, slapping the shit out of him. “You tried to fuck her!”

“Fuck you; you’re keeping a chick up there all for yourself. The least you can do is share,” the man spits.

“SHE IS MINE!” Phoenix yells so loud that I sink to the ground.

I watch the two men fight; hitting each other with such force that teeth are flying through the air and blood is dripping from their faces. And all I can do is sit here and feel numb. I want to move, but I can’t. I feel glued to the floor, images flashing through my head of that man and his fingers, the way he touched me, the way he crawled over me like a slithering snake, his smell, and the fear it instilled in me. His flesh coming into contact with mine. He almost … almost … Oh fuck, I think I’m going to puke.

As Phoenix keeps jabbing him, I lean over and puke on the floor beside me. There goes breakfast. What a waste, but damn, do I feel sick.

“I DON’T FUCKING SHARE!” Phoenix screams.

I glance at him and watch him pull a knife. I don’t stop him. All I do is watch as he jams the knife into the man’s chest. He gurgles, spitting up blood, groaning in pain as Phoenix takes the blade out and stuffs it back into his body again. It’s almost like a blow-up doll filled with hay that he just keeps stabbing. Maybe I’ve lost my mind for thinking this, but I’m not even opposed to the idea of Phoenix killing this man. In fact, I would’ve done it myself if I wasn’t completely fazed out right now. But watching that man get ripped to shreds is somehow soothing to my volatile heart.

“You put your fucking filthy hands on her, fucking pig.” Phoenix grabs his fingers and slams them to the ground. “Say bye to your fucking fingers, dipshit,” he growls.

And off goes the thumb. One chop is all it takes.

It’s quick. It’s painful. It’s certainly merciless.

And I don’t give a damn.

I just watch him as he chops off the man’s fingers one by one with only a knife. The same knife he used to threaten me with. The same knife I now wish to use to cut off the man’s balls.

The man screams, but it only calms me down. My heart should be racing right now, and my mind should be rallying to come to his aid. He’s a man who requires help, but sometimes the need to see someone punished goes beyond what we tell ourselves we should do.

Only now, after seeing him being brutalized, do I realize that I’m just as fucked up as all of the people in this house.

He’s being tortured, and I don’t give a damn. In fact, just watching it happen in front of me is calming me down.

Someone else storms up the stairs. A guy with slick black hair, a square jaw, and a frown so deep I swear it’s locked on permanently. He