Growling, he leans in close. “Be very fucking careful what your next words are.”
“Or what? What are you going to do?”
He moves quickly, hand curling around my neck as he backs me into the cupboard behind me, pressing me close and leaning in. With a low hiss, he tells me, “I’ve about had enough of you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I spit back, holding his glare, not wavering even for a second.
He releases me and steps back. “Keep cooking, Willow. God knows it’s all you have left.”
With that, he turns and saunters off, leaving me standing, panting, furious. I look down at the knife on the bench and wish I had plunged it in a little deeper. I’m so tired of him, of this, of everything. Strength comes and goes, but depression is making a clear come back. Staring at the dull blade, I wonder what he’d do if I did sink its blade into myself. Would he let me die? Would he take me to a hospital?
The dark thought has my mind running.
Maybe I should test him, maybe I should see how he would react to walk out and find me in a pool of my own blood?
I know enough to know he isn’t likely to let me die; if I had to guess, I’d say he would take me to a hospital. I could be wrong, though, and the risk really is equal parts, but if I don’t do something, I’ll just stand here, in this empty kitchen, baking a cake while he’s in another room fucking some random woman. My choices are limited.
I grip the knife in my hand and swallow, staring down at the blade. Can I do it? Should I do it? Memories of the last time I brought a knife to my skin makes my stomach turn. Do I have it in me to do that again? I press the blade to my wrist, just touching the skin there. Lightly. The bedroom door opens and Jagger walks out, a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes meet mine and he freezes. For a moment, I see true shock in his face as his hands slowly come up in front of him.
“Put the knife down.”
“Why?” I laugh, bitterly. “So you can keep me here and continue to torment me? Threaten my family? Take away every ounce of sanity I have left? What’s wrong, Jagger? Don’t want my blood on your hands.”
“Put. It. Down.”
He’s scared.
For what, I don’t know.
Probably the fact that he doesn’t want to have to hide my body if I do this.
“Fuck. Put it down, now,” he barks, stepping forward.
I press it harder. “Take another step closer and I swear to god I’ll drag this blade through my skin.”
“I’ll fuckin’ let you go, is that what you want to hear? The second we have your father, I give you my word that I’ll let you go and never bother you or your sister again. I promise it will be over for you when this is finished with.”
I look up at him and my bitter laugh breaks into an unexpected sob.
Broken.
I’m so damned broken. “You’re a liar, a god damned liar. You won’t let me go because I can ruin everything for you if I so much as open my mouth.”
Blood trickles down my hand—I didn’t realize I had broken the skin. Trembling, I stare at the red liquid, fear constricting my chest.
Jagger takes another hesitant step forward. “You have to trust my word.”
Tears soak my face and my fingers tremble. He takes the opportunity to lunge at me, and soon my body is crumpling down against the cold floor and the knife skitters across the room. I fight him, with everything I have inside. I fight so hard it hurts. He grips my wrists and pins them above my head.
I struggle beneath him, my face soaked in tears. He lies on top of me, panting and staring into my pain-stricken eyes. I mumble incoherent words, over and over. He puts both my hands into one of his, and with his free hand he strokes tear-dampened hair away from my forehead.
Then, without warning, his lips are on mine. I didn’t see this coming; I would have never seen this coming. I whimper and part my lips, and he slides his tongue into my mouth. I shouldn’t want this, it’s so wrong, and yet I can’t bring myself to push him away. His lips are soft, luring me in and taking me over. His free hand tangles through my hair as he raises my head to deepen the kiss.
“Jagger?”
The female voice snaps us back into reality. He jerks his head up, not taking his eyes off my lips. I am panting, my chest rising and falling with want and desperate need. As if only just realizing what he has done, he shoves off me, his face tight, his breathing labored. He looks down at me, then back up at the woman standing, half naked, watching us.