Page 120 of The Wrong Side Of Us

I had so much to accomplish. I couldn’t go down, I wouldn’t go down, without a fight.

“You could have been out without having to go back to jail, you idiot,” I snarled, my eyes meeting his. I wouldn’t coward away.

I was stronger than that.

“I won’t be going back to jail, but you will be coming with me. Do you have any clue how shitty of a place it is there?” He cocked an eyebrow.

I huffed, preparing myself for another blow, ignoring the pain that wasn’t going away. “You crazy fucking psycho.” This time, I smashed my forehead against his and then kicked my knee up to his groin as hard as I could.

My head throbbed; the continuous impact it had received started to add up. I was exhausted and lightheaded, but it was all pointless; Josh hardly budged. His weight crushed me, and I couldn’t breathe.

“Filthy whore,” he spat in my face. My eyes squeezed shut as his hands went up to my throat, his thumb caressing my jugular vein—the area that could do away with my life quickly.

“Please,” I whispered hoarsely, refusing to let the tears show. Maybe if I could beg my way out, make him think that I wouldn’t fight, he’d lower his guard and I could get away.

“Please fuck you?” He smirked, the other hand going down to the waistband of the sweatpants I wore, pulling at them.

My eyes widened in realization.

I wouldn’t wait for my chance anymore. From that moment on, every second was my chance. My legs kicked with force while I cradled my belly with a hand and I used the other to swing at him. He grunted, annoyed I didn’t let him have his way with me as easily as he may have wanted.

“Fuck you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I would make fucking sure someone heard me; if I was going to die, all of New York would know what happened to me.

Another dose of adrenaline flooded my veins, and I kicked him, hard in the stomach. On shaking limbs, I stood up but took too long; his hand gripped my hair furiously and pulled me back, throwing me to the side, my head hitting the edge of the side table.

“Shit,” I muttered, seeing him kneel in front of me. His hand wrapped around my throat again, this time tighter, and I fought, using my hands to claw at him, to give a hard time, but my vision became foggy as his grip tightened, my chest heaving with the need for oxygen.

“You’re going to have to be quiet now.” He grinned, his eyes bright.

He’d won.

I’d tried, but he’d won.

My eyelids became heavy, and I knew I was about to pass out, end up in a ditch or lake somewhere never to be seen again, when suddenly, I could breathe again.

I inhaled sharply, coughing and my body grateful for the bit of air that filled my lungs. My eyes opened only to see Carter, my old man Carter, throwing Josh back with a thud and then kicking him to no end.

“Phone, now!” he roared at me, his eyes wild with anger yet somber with fear.

I crawled, trying to find the phone, my hands trembling when it was finally within my reach. I dialed 911, hardly was able to give my address to the operator before I noticed Josh starting to fight back.

Quietly, I approached Mrs. Nicholson, who just smelled like alcohol, the intensity of it making me nauseous.

This was it.

I had to do it.

He deserved it, but that didn’t mean the idea of it didn’t scare me.

Josh was too busy gaining advantage against Carter, unknowingly giving me the perfect angle. He shoved Carter against the wall, and I stood, not waiting another second before I picked up a lamp, slamming it against his head. A sharp cry left his lips, and he shoved me back with his elbow, my body landing back against the hard floor.

“Get out of here,” I grit out, struggling to even speak. “The cops are on their way. Get out.”

I knew he wouldn’t make it out. I knew they would get him. Even then, I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped when I saw him walking injured out of the door.

Carter rushed to my side despite his bruised face, cupping my own in his hands. The anger dissipated into nothing but worry as his hand went to the back of my head, leaving it there as he spoke calmly to me.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispered. “Did he hurt you somewhere else?”

---