Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,102

me to answer his question correctly. I’d get it wrong no matter what. The air was sucked out of the room. Gone was my patience. I turned on my heels and ran toward the kitchen.

“Answer me!” he yelled. I could feel his words reaching out, sinking their hideous claws into my flesh.

It was then that I made a move for my purse. Wes got there quicker and snatched it away, then threw it against the wall. I jumped and watched the contents spill out.

“Tell me what you were thinking tonight.” He paced back and forth, his cold eyes never leaving mine. “Did you really think a piece of paper would magically allow you to disappear from my life? Hmm?”

I didn’t answer.

One second the kitchen island was blocking us and then before I could react there was nothing keeping us separated. Wes tackled me to the floor. I landed so painfully on my right side I gasped. Pain rocked through my body. Behind my lids I saw bright white spots.

Call it motherly instinct but my hands flew to my stomach. The baby kicked and that single, small kick was a reboot for me, giving me enough strength to crawl backward, toward the door.

Tears started to pool in my eyes. The light above me blurred slightly. I couldn’t lie there and do nothing. I had to fight. If not for me, then for my baby.

Some unseen force overtook me. I’ll never know what it was or if it was simply that maternal instinct to protect what I loved. But I wiggled enough room to lift my knee and hit him between his legs as hard as I could.

Wes dropped back, landing with a loud thud.

I tried to stand up but the pain was unbearable. So I crawled.

My keys lay on the floor, just a few steps away, where they had fallen from my purse. All I needed to do was grab them and leave as quickly as I could. But my legs wouldn’t cooperate and my body wanted to react. It wanted to curl up in a ball and wait for this pain to go away. It took me twice as long to move.

Behind me Wes moaned, muttering curses beneath his breath. He sat up and grabbed the lip of the kitchen island for support and when he did, a knife fell to the floor, clattering loudly.

Wes stared between the sharp blade and me.

Go, go, go! my mind screamed. I turned around and hurried for the keys.

Wes was shouting but I couldn’t make out his words. He grabbed one of my arms, twisting it painfully. I screamed and my arm was abruptly pinned on my back.

I didn’t have a chance to protect myself. The knife went down and I felt this searing pain, like flesh burning, melting apart, so slowly.

It felt like it was never going to end.

Wes dropped the knife and stared down at me, smiling. He was panting and I was barely breathing. I pressed my palm flat against my belly, thinking that if I pressed down hard enough the blood would go back inside my body and the wound would heal itself.

It seeped through the cracks of my fingers. I stared up at Wes with pain and accusation.

Wes jumped away and would have kept moving if he didn’t slam into the refrigerator. “Look what you made me do!” he yelled. Fear and panic were in his eyes. He stared at the blood with hunger and fascination.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I pressed down on the wound and winced. The pain intensified.

He started to pace the floor, telling me that I made him do this. That this was entirely my fault. I was his wife and I was supposed to stay.

I was starting to feel less pain. My body was starting to feel weightless.

And then he glanced at me over his shoulder. His eyes widened and it’s as if I had come back in focus. He grabbed my cellphone and dialed 911.

As he talked to the operator, he raked a hand through his hair, gripping the strands so tightly it looked like he was going to rip chunks out.

In a terrified voice, he told the operator that I had hurt myself. Knife wound. Lots of bleeding.

The operator continued to speak but Wes was staring at me with that bone-chilling smile of his. With the phone in his hands, he walked over with slow steps. He knelt next to me. The knife was only a reach away but it didn’t matter;