“Hey, puppet.”
“No,” I mouthed. “No, please. Please, tell me you’re not high!”
Fear failed to arrive. Overwhelming disappointment and anger took the stage instead. I stumbled forward, banging my fist on his chest, feeling powerless.
“Why?! How could you?! You were doing so well!”
He gripped my wrists and squeezed hard. His nostrils flared, craziness in his dark eyes. My body turned cold, breath flattened, and fear decided to join me, tying my vocal cords. Terror replaced the blood in my veins just as panic kicked in.
I tore my hands out of Adrian’s grip, and swung the door closed. His foot got in the way. Before I could fight him, he pushed the door open, and walked inside; his hands raised to signal he had no bad intentions, but one look into his eyes, and I knew that it was a matter of minutes before he would raise his voice.
And then...
Not once in the past had I stood up to Adrian or tried to talk him out of hurting me. I took what was coming, but not this time. Thomas was right—I was a survivor.
“Get out,” I managed, sounding like those were the last words to come out of my mouth. “Don’t ruin this now. I’m leaving, remember? You let me go! Adrian, please… You’ll hate yourself tomorrow more than you already do. Please, just leave.”
Adrian closed the door and took a few steps forward. “You’re mine, puppet. I can’t let him have you. I can’t,” he began, his voice soft. “You need to stay with me.” He closed the distance parting us in one stride.
I ran for the kitchen, almost tripping over my feet, no longer thinking rationally. I grabbed a knife. My mind and body were ruled by terror, but instincts rebelled against allowing Adrian closer.
“Get out!” I swung the blade. “Leave me alone!”
I grabbed a ceramic coffee jar and sent it flying. Adrian ducked, letting the jar smash against the wall.
“Get out! Get out!”
I stepped back, the countertop hard against my back as I waved the knife, slashing the air with a whoosh. Fear absorbed me whole, and remained there, fixed and tenacious. My pulse throbbed in my neck.
Adrian stepped closer ignoring the seven-inch blade in my shaking palm.
“Leave,” I pleaded. “Please, leave.”
My fingers closed tightly on the handle of the knife, but I no longer dared to swing it to keep Adrian at a distance. He was too close now, and I didn’t want to hurt him.
He didn’t share my dilemma. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist, twisting it until the knife fell out of my lifeless grasp. A powerful slap landed across my face. I turned to the side, touching my lip. Blood glistened on my fingers; tears danced in my eyes.
“I’d do anything for you!” Adrian bellowed.
He gripped my shoulders and shoved me against the kitchen cabinets, knocking the breath out of me when my back smashed against the marble countertop.
“You’re all that matters to me! I can’t let you leave, puppet.” He took two steps forward, towering above me. “I love you!”
Slap.
“You love me! You fucking need me!”
Slap.
“And I love you, too!”
He caught my face. Long fingers dug into my jaw, and he slammed my head against the fridge. My mouth fell open in an inaudible scream when pain shot through my skull as if it split open. I pressed my fingers to the throbbing spot, my vision blurry.
Adrian gripped my neck, ready to make a dent in the fridge doors with my head. Thomas’s face flashed before my eyes, courage, and ignited my senses like a bolt of lightning.
I used to crumble at the sight of Adrian’s blood-shot eyes, but now, the need to fight was stronger than fear; stronger than pain. All because of Thomas. Because he showed me I was strong. He showed me love wasn’t about blame, pain and regret.
“Let me go!” I cried.