to the en suite, but keep my steps light. There has to be something in here. My eyes catch sight of a razor. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do. I grab the plastic handle and tilt it on its side on the counter. I need to crack the plastic so I can get to the blade.
My eyes search for anything that’s hard and heavy enough to do the job. I finally see the tumbler by the sink. The bottom is stainless steel. I grab the towel from the hook and lay it on the counter to absorb some of the noise. I smash the tumbler on top of the razor, hard, but not hard enough to make much noise.
My heart stills and my blood rushes faster, waiting to hear anything from downstairs. Nothing. So I hit it again and again until the plastic cracks. I try pulling the plastic back, but I need more give. I tilt the razor and try to angle it so it’ll be more effective. I raise my arm up and smash it down.
Yes! The plastic cracks even more, and I’m able to wiggle the blade out carefully. I raise the blade up to my eyes to look at the shiny, metal weapon. It’s small. Really fucking small. But maybe if I can catch him by surprise, I'll be able to hurt him enough to escape.
“Whatcha doing, sweetheart?” I jump at the sound of Vince’s voice and nearly drop the blade.
I stare at Vince from across the room. He sneaked up on me. How long has he been watching me? I don’t answer him. Instead I make a fist and position the blade in the space between two of my fingers so it’ll cut him when I swing.
We both know what I’m doing. My blood heats and rushes in my ears. My heart feels like it's trying to escape my body. It’s beating that wildly. But I ignore my heart and blood both. Vince’s gaze is hard and focused on me.
“You planning on hitting me, sweetheart?” He takes a step toward me and as much as I want to stand my ground, I instinctively take a step back. “You wanna hurt me, Elle?”
No. I don’t. I don’t want to hurt him.
“You wanna kill me baby, is that it?” I shake my head, but keep my eyes trained on him. I take another step back as he steps even closer. My back hits the wall. I’m cornered. Sweat covers my body with a chill.
“That’s not very nice. Here I am trying to help you.” He lunges for me and I try to hit him, but he grabs my wrist and forces my hand above my head. I scream and try to push him away as he twists my wrist and the blade slips through my fingers. Faintly, I hear the thin metal hit the tiled floor.
My body sags as he pushes his hard chest against me. I close my eyes and push my head against the wall. Sadness weakens my body.
He grips my jaw and forces me to face him, but I keep my eyes closed. I can’t look at him. “You were going to kill me, sweetheart? You wanted to kill me?”
I try to shake my head but I can’t. I try to speak, but with his hand on my jaw, I can’t.
“Look at me!” he yells into my face, and it forces a whimper out of me, but my eyes stay closed.
Without any warning, he leaves me. My body falls limp to the floor and my knee slams down against the tile. Fuck! I grab it and lay on my side as the pain shoots up my body.
“Fuck, Elle!” He bends down beside me and picks me up off the floor. I expect his anger, not for him to take me gently into his arms. I bury my head in his chest. I can’t take this. I’m not a person who can handle this kind of situation. I’m just breaking down. He walks me back over to the bed and sits down with me limp in his lap.
His hands pry my grip from my knee, and I watch his face as he looks it over, examining my injury. It’ll bruise, but I’ll be okay. It hardly hurts anymore. He’s looking at me like I got shot. The concern on his face just doesn’t make sense. He runs his fingers over the mark that will be a bruise. And then his dark eyes find