Still, adrenaline and love for my mother pushed me past the fear. I dropped my bag and suitcase in the doorway. Then I stretched my hand out as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and steered around a table. Stalking toward the glass counter and back door, I breathed in deep, trying to prepare myself. It was the only sound in the shop. San Francisco was eerily quiet tonight, and I heard no movement upstairs. I pictured my mother’s knife block. Had he grabbed a knife from there? Surely he wouldn’t hurt anyone besides me?
I had to believe I was his only outlet; I wished for it as my only wish ever.
As I was about to open the door to the back room, his voice echoed through the store. “I prefer you come take a seat at the table, Meek. This is where you and your mother used to interview all the perverts about what they really wanted, right?”
“Dougie, can I see my mom first?” I put my hands up like I didn’t want any problems, like I was willing to do what he wanted, and I was. I glanced at his hands and saw the knife, the largest one from my mother’s block glinting in the moonlight. “I just want to know that she’s alright.”
“You’re concerned about her wellbeing but not mine. That was made clear tonight.” He stood in the corner, hiding in the shadows, and waved the knife toward a chair. “Go sit the fuck down. Me and you are going to have a little interview of our own.”
I tried the voice of reason. “Come on, Dougie—”
“Get the fuck over there!”
I jumped at his bellow and instantly walked to the white plastic chairs. The day we got them, we sat in them for three hours to make sure they were comfortable and we didn’t get backaches. Mom used the time to talk me through a new product and then help me study for a quiz.
I tried not to cry over the memory; I tried to remain calm.
Dougie stalked toward the chair across from me and sat down. It was dwarfed by his large frame. A glare marred his soft face. “When did you decide you could walk away from us? Was it when you thought you could fuck the Hollywood heartthrob? He called and sounded oh-so-sad when I told him we were having dinner here tonight.”
My gut clenched. Jay didn’t need to know; he didn’t need to be a part of this. So much was unraveling and I wasn’t sure how to catch the thread. “Dougie, you’re being irrational. Think about what you’re doing. We can’t—”
He slammed his hand down on the glass, and the table rattled beneath it. “Don’t patronize me! God. You always were a fucking know-it-all bitch. I’m the one asking the questions. You answer them. Nothing else.”
I wrung my hands in front of me, thinking of what I could do. “Ok, ask away,” I said, completely monotone. I needed to find my mother, I needed to get her to safety, and then I needed to call the cops. The look in Dougie’s eye told me he was so far gone, I wasn’t sure he’d ever come back to the man I once thought I loved.
Dougie shifted in his chair, his smile drunk with the power he thought he had. “Did you always have the whore in you? I tried to beat it out, baby. I tried to help you realize you and me are made for each other.”
His words had my stomach rolling. Bile rose as he stood and walked toward me. He had changed. Or we’d both changed. I wasn’t sure which. Maybe he’d always had this brutality in him and I’d rubbed him the wrong way one too many times. Maybe he’d warped into the monster before me all on his own.
It didn’t matter.
For once, I wasn’t the only one in danger. I could endure the pain, but when it was someone I loved, that changed everything.
The shaking stopped as he looked down at me, wedging himself between my legs by tapping the knife on the inside of my thigh, signaling for me to spread them. “You know we’re made for each other right?”
I stared up at him in the moonlight. He’d let his beard grow, along with his belly, and he pushed his length into my arm like he thought I would get turned on by it.
“Dougie, I can’t think with you holding that knife.”
He squinted like he wasn’t sure he could trust me but he wanted to, wanted us to get back to where we were.
Finally, he turned and set the knife down on the table. I shoved my chair back, remembering how light they were on the floor. I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t that girl anymore.
I kicked him as hard as I could between the legs. He folded over, eyes popping out as he screamed, and I scrambled around him, lunging for the knife he’d placed out of reach.
I thought I’d make it. I thought I’d kicked him hard enough.
His meaty hand snarled into my hair and yanked me back. I flew into the air, but this time I fought back. I clawed his face, I dug my thumbs into his eyes, and I screamed like a banshee.
His other hand went around my neck as I hit the ground with a thud that knocked the wind out of me. I tried to gulp in air, but he’d blocked my airway.
“You don’t fucking listen.” He squeezed harder as he spat out the words. “Why. Don’t. You. Ever. Listen?” With each word, he pounded my skull into the ground.
I choked on my words as I scrambled and arched my body to shove him off but, Dougie was so much bigger than me. In a last ditch effort, I groped blindly for the knife. I swear a god or two was on my side because my hand landed right on its base. I grabbed the handle and drove it into his arm with every ounce of energy I had left.
He screeched in pain and flew off me, curling around his arm. Then he lunged for me, getting one good punch in at my mouth. I rolled away, realizing if I didn’t get out of here now, I’d be done. He had the weapon in his arm. He had the upper hand again.
He hobbled toward me as I got to my feet to run, and just when I thought it was do or die, a loud crash sounded behind me.