Page 14 of The Predator
"Little Dove, he hasn't fucked you here yet?” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, and merely continues as if he hadn’t asked me a question. “Hmm. Nevermind, I already know the answer. Good. This hole will be mine. All mine."
Gently, almost reverently, he prods against my asshole. Breathing becomes impossible as fear claws its way through my insides, using my ribcage as a ladder.
He’s going to hurt me again. Take until there is nothing left.
A whimper slips out of me, and his mouth slides along the side of my neck, and then it happens. Suddenly I’m outside my body, watching like a bystander on the street. I don’t get what is happening as I watch myself reach up and grab the shower head. A cold wave washes through me, soothing the aches and pains. Calming me in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It detaches from the wall after a brief struggle, and I stare at myself bringing the metal piece down on Yanov’s head.
He stumbles backward, as if dazed. A longing for revenge and peace rips me apart from the inside out. An anguished cry filters through the pounding drum of my heartbeat, and I lift the shower head and bring it down again, smashing it against his skull. I do it again. And again. More. Harder. Faster. Watching as he falls to his knees. Water continues to spray down on us, washing some of the blood splatter down the drain, while the rest smears and dots the tile wall.
Fight back, you coward. Be the man you always said you were. Hit me.
I want to scream the words, but they never escape. In the end, there is nothing left to say. Nothing will change what must happen. To truly be free, you must break the chains holding you in place. My hands are trembling as an involuntary shiver skatesdown my spine. I sink back into my body, the cold giving way to pain, a deep dark ache in my chest. Oh my God. What have I done?
Some part of me always knew how this would end. One of us dead. I should be thankful it’s not me...and yet. Nausea churns deep in my gut. His leg twitches, brushing mine.
End it. End him.
Raising his hands first, then he lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “Ely, don’t do this. You aren’t a killer. This isn’t you.”
His words slur, and he tries to stand, but he can’t seem to get his legs to work.
But his eyes. Those dark, soulless orbs tell another story. Even with his life hanging in the balance, the evilness inside of him bleeds through.
The promise of pain and retribution reflect back at me.
No. This ends now. Today. I will never be his plaything again.
“You have no idea who I am.” I grit the words through my teeth, and then I pull back and smash the metal against the side of his head again. Blood splatters across my stomach and the wall, and I stare down at it.
I should be freaking out, worried about what will happen next, but none of those things matter. A strange sense of calm coats me from the inside, healing some of the deep wounds he left so many years ago.
I’m safe, protected. After today he’ll never hurt me again. I’ll never be faced with running again.
I don’t think, don’t even feel as I raise the shower head and let it fall, hitting him with it again...over and over. Each blow is harder and faster than the previous. My lungs heave, and my muscles burn, my heart galloping in my chest.
“I will kill you, Elyse!” He says in a vicious growl as his hand clamps my arm in a death grip. I struggle in his grasp, and there’s a sharp crunch, then a wave of pain as something in my arm gives way. I know there should be more pain, that I should feel something, but I don’t.
It doesn’t register in my mind that I might have a broken bone, not while he’s still breathing. My only objective is to end his life, to ensure he can never hurt anyone else ever again.
My vision blurs, and I shove through the exhaustion, fear guiding me, reminding me that if I don’t kill him, he will surely end me when this is over. I’m not sure how much time passes, but soon he’s slumped against the floor. I wait. Barely breathing, watching until his chest no longer rises and falls. That I can’t hear his phlegm wheeze any longer.
I’m numb, unable to feel anything for the dead man in front of me. I look away from his body, and take a trembling step back, the shower head slipping from my hands.
The reality of what I’ve done finally catches up with me, and my heart lurches inside my chest.
I’ll never be free.
There is no escaping the consequences now. Pinpricks of pain zing up my arm as I lift it, pressing my hand to my stomach.
There's a throbbing there, a dull ache, but I know all too well that once the adrenaline wears off the pain will be more severe. I need to come up with a plan. I need to call for help. I stumble into the bedroom and freeze. There is no one to call for help. No one can save me.
Once my father finds out, everything will be over. I will be trapped in his dark web all over again. He'll use this against me. He'll hold it over my head until he can get everything he can out of me. My body, my life, my soul. All of it. I’ll be left with nothing.
Panic wraps around my throat, tightening its grip, until I can’t suck another breath into my lungs.
I’m a murderer.
I killed him.