I don’t want to reject him flat out. His mental state seems unhinged at best, and I have no idea what this man is truly capable of.
He shakes his head, swoops my hand rather angrily, and tugs on me. I bite back another cry as he explains with impatience, “Not if we hurry. I have a plan; I just need you to come with me.”
When he continues to drag me after him, my fight or flight instincts kick in. Pain be damned, I yank my hand out of his hold and scramble back.
“No, I don’t want to go with you,” I snap.
His face morphs into a snarling demon, and that coldness radiating from him crystalizes. This man is dead on the inside. He’s no more than an icy, decaying tomb.
I feel the burst of pain lancing across my cheek before I register him moving. My head whips to the side, and fire erupts on the side of my face.
I gasp, my mouth popping open while I clutch my smarting cheek, feeling something wet coat my fingers. Pulling my hand away, I find several drops of blood staining my skin. He backhanded me with a fucking ring on. A wedding ring.
A cocktail of disgust and fury curdles in the pit of my stomach, but I keep my mouth shut. This is a very precarious situation, and I no longer have the luxury of doing or saying whatever the hell I want without severe consequences. And as much as I’m tempted to throw down with the old fart, I can hardly move.
Shit, Addie. Think.
He’s breathing heavily, fury evident on his ruddy face. It’s like staring into the eyes of a corpse, animated only by the evil inside him.
“I would treat you like a queen. You would want for nothing,” he spits vehemently, slashing a hand through the air angrily with his last word.
I nod my head. “Okay,” I placate gently. “But you’re scaring me just as much as they do.”
His spine straightens, and I watch the rage bleed from his stare like it just now dawned on him that he’s acting like a goddamn lunatic. So quickly, his face transitions from hysteria to sheepish understanding.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he says, taking a step forward. “I’m just… if I’m going to get you out safely, we need to hurry, and you’re not cooperating.”
I tense but refrain from retreating as he grabs my hands in an apologetic manner.
“I’m sorry I slapped you, sweetheart. I’m just trying to help you. Please, come with me. I promise you’ll be happy with me.”
The panic and adrenaline heighten to dangerous levels, causing my heart to thump painfully against my chest. It’s hard to fucking think when he’s staring at me so eagerly, and my entire body feels like it’s been pushed through a fucking meat grinder.
But this could be the perfect opportunity to escape if I play my cards right. I need to get out with as minimal noise as possible, so I don’t alert the terror twins, which leaves me with two options. Hit this clown over the head and run or let him take me away and find a different way out. Regardless, I’m not staying here.
“Okay,” I whisper, wheezing in a breath through my tight lungs.
When he sees me visibly relax, he quickly follows suit, victory sparking in his icy pools. Grabbing my hand again, he urges me toward the door with a flickering red exit sign above.
I glance around, shivering from the cold, dankness of the room. Everything in here is gray and diluted, and the light fixtures whirring above are corroded with dust and bug carcasses. There isn’t anything here that gives this place… life.
Jesus, how does he operate in here? It looks like we’re in a morgue rather than a hospital room. I’d hate to die here, though it seems like many have.
It reeks of sterile death.
We pass by the table littered with instruments, several of them sharp. If I stab him in the jugular, he won’t be able to scream and will be dead within minutes. Then, I can make a run for it. I’ve no idea what the fuck I’m going to do once I get out of here, but there will hopefully be somewhere I can find help.
With one quick glance, I note that his focus is straight ahead, intent on his mission to take me for his own. I snatch the scalpel from the metal table, but he hears me coming and turns right as I go to plunge the knife into his neck, slicing his nape instead.
Blood spurts onto my face, and I turn away in an attempt to avoid getting any in my eyes.
He screams loudly, turning and backhanding me once more, sending me crashing into the unforgiving ground.
I land awkwardly on my tailbone, and I yelp from the impact. Agony shoots up my spine, taking my breath away, and he’s on me before I can think of what to do next, let alone breathe.
“You bitch!” he shouts, his hands circling around my neck and roughly banging my head into the concrete.
Stars explode in my eyes, preventing me from seeing anything for several seconds. It feels as if the back of my head has been cracked open, but the hands constricting my windpipe bring me out of the pit of agony.