He moves his hips back and forth and groans while I try to remain as still as possible.
In most situations, you’ll only get one chance. Use it wisely.
Zeno’s words echo in my head on a loop, and I try to remember what else he said.
Ear, nose, throat, solar plexus, groin, knee.
I take a moment and think. Frederico just got turned on when I fought him. Sick bastard. But maybe I can use that to my advantage. It might completely backfire, but I have to try. I need to get him off me so I can get to my knife.
After a deep breath, I wiggle under him like I’m trying to get away. “Please don’t, Frederico.”
The grin on his face turns into a full-blown smile. It’s sickening to watch, and for that alone, he deserves to die. He palms himself through his pants, watching me while he’s trying to make up his mind. Then he goes up to his knees to unbuckle his belt and to open his pants. He pushes them down far enough to get his dick out, and I focus on what I’m about to do.
I move around once more, whimpering, “No, no. Please, don’t do this.”
He wraps his hand around his dick and pumps into his palm a few times, groaning loudly, his gaze never leaving my face. “Touch me, piccolina.”
I make a choking noise in my throat but slowly reach out with my left hand. My entire body shudders when I wrap my hand around him, at the same time as I slide my right hand into my pocket to tightly grip my knife before I pull it back out.
Once I’m sure I’ve made the best fist around the knife, I take my hand off his dick and slap both of my hands on his ears before drawing my right hand back and hitting him in the nose as hard as I can. Then I buck my hips up, which makes him fall my way. Thankfully, I practiced this exact same thing with Zeno countless times, so I try to focus and do the hand and leg motions he taught me in order to flip Frederico over, so I’m on top of him.
He howls in pain, blindly grabbing for me while I scramble backward. I’m able to get far enough away to stand, but so does he.
“You fucking bitch. You’re going to pay for this.”
I stumble, quickly realizing I’m backing myself into a corner since the door is behind him.
Fuck.
He must have come to the same conclusion because he grins at me. His smile is what nightmares are made of, his teeth completely covered in red, with more blood steadily dripping down from his nose.
If he gets his hands on me now, I might not get another chance. With my thumb, I push at the blade in my hand, and with an upward flick, it opens and clicks in.
Matteo tried to teach me this one over and over, but I never got it right. Too bad that the time I finally master it, I’m possibly about to be raped and murdered.
Frederico stops and regards my knife. He’s probably as surprised to see it as I was when I discovered it.
But then he advances again, and both Zeno and Matteo yell at me in my head.
You have one chance. One chance, Gemma.
I have to injure him badly enough so I can escape, nothing more. One opening so I can run.
Frederico makes the first move and jumps toward me, and I swing my arm toward his forearm. Slash. No idea if I got to the bone like I was supposed to, but Frederico hisses and withdraws. His biceps and triceps are next. Slash. One more, the front of his thigh right above his knee. Slash. Not sure how much damage I did through his pants, but he collapses to his knees before toppling over and rolling onto his back, with his good hand holding on to his injured arm.
There’s so much blood everywhere, but he deserves it.
Now run, Gemma. Run.
But somehow, I can’t.
My feet finally unfreeze, but they don’t carry me to the door. Instead, they bring me closer to Frederico, who tries to kick me as soon as I’m within reach, right before I manage to cut his other leg above the knee too.
“That was for my mamma, you sick bastard.”
Then I give him matching wounds on his uninjured arm.
“And that was for giving me a fucking scar.”