Page 89 of Forever Always

“Shut up, you sick fuck.”

My eyes flew open as my thighs hit the back of the couch. Memories of Dad and Mr. Chase were blending together. I couldn’t tell what was now and what was the past. My arm that he wasn’t holding flung back as I tried to get some purchase. I needed something to keep me here in the present.

“Did you miss me so much, Mr. Cooks, that you had to come back and ruin my life?”

I swallowed bile, his words snapped me back to reality. What the fuck was I doing? I was younger than Mr. Chase and in way better shape. Why the fuck wasn’t I fighting back?

I spit in his face, and Mr. Chase recoiled in disgust. It was enough to bring my brain back into action, and I grabbed his wrist with the knife, and bent it away from my neck and until he screamed in pain. The blade crashed to the floor.

“I ruined your life?!” I bellowed, laughing at the ridiculousness. “Me? Fuck you! You ruined mine when I was fuckin’ 12 years old!”

Mr. Chase tsked. His eyes were wild, and I knew he’d fuckin’ lost it. He was always so in control, always one step ahead of everyone else. That was terrifying enough, but this—this was somehow worse.

“Always with the language, Mr. Cooks. Remember, good boys who get help from me use polite words.”

Mr. Chase’s hand closed around my mouth, and it was so tight I could barely breathe. I tried to scream, to move, but I couldn’t. My eyes filled with tears, but I was still trapped.

“Remember, only good boys who use polite language get help from me. You want Riley to have a place to live, don’t you?”

I nodded around his hand as best I could. He lay down on top of me. It hurt so bad, but I stopped fighting, and even when he finally let go, I didn’t curse.

Mr. Chase’s hand wrapped around my throat now. I grabbed his wrist, digging into the muscle until he loosened his grip. But I didn’t get far when I felt something jab into my stomach. A gun. A motherfucking gun. Why the fuck did he start with a knife if he had a gun? I tried to get a good look, and I was pretty sure there was a silencer. That was . . . bad. Not that I expected anyone in this shithole to call the cops, but maybe with gunshots, someone would at least hear something? But now . . .

“Don’t move. You will pay for what you did to me. You could have left things alone. You and your good-for-nothing brother. The photos were supposed to be a warning to keep your mouth shut. Instead, you twisted it. Did you know the FBI is looking for me? Can you imagine? What have I ever done to deserve that? You couldn’t just be grateful for all the help I’ve given you? You would’ve been dead without me! Your precious little Riley would have never survived!”

His words pissed me the fuck off, but I couldn’t fuckin’ move. The gun was jammed into my stomach, and I was pretty sure I heard him click the safety off. Either way, I didn’t trust it. Motherfucker. I tried to think, to figure out how to get far enough away to fight back and get the gun or something, but then Mr. Chase reached out and stroked my cheek, and all resistance slipped away as I went numb.

Riley. I had to fight for Riley. I couldn’t let Mr. Chase get to him. I had to protect Riley.

Mr. Chase’s thumb caressed my lip. My stomach churned. I was really fuckin’ glad I hadn’t eaten since lunch because I’d definitely have thrown it up by now. I could taste his sweat. He was always so sweaty . . .

My eyes slammed shut. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I fuckin’ fight back? Even if he shot me, it would be better than takin’ this. It would be worth it.

But then I thought of Riley. He’d be the one to find me dead on the floor. I would be leaving him alone. I couldn’t do that to him. I’d promised.

C’mon, Becks, fight. Fight for me.

Riley’s voice was so clear in my head, it felt like he was right there, and it was the motivation I needed. Mr. Chase pushed his thumb into my mouth, and I fuckin’ bit down.

“You little . . .” The gun moved. I grabbed his wrist with both my hands, and shoved it out of the way just as it went off.

We both froze, and I stared down. But there was nothing. The bullet had missed. Mr. Chase was still holding the gun, but before he could raise it again, I lowered myself and bodied him. It was a move I’d learned from dealing with my dad. We crashed to the floor. He gasped as the air left his lungs.

I had pure muscle on the guy, but he had to weigh at least 80 pounds more than me, and he used that to his advantage. He punched me quickly but hard in the side, and then something, maybe the gun, hit me right over the head.

I saw fuckin’ stars. But as he went to hit me with the gun again, I managed to block him. I was stronger and had the advantage. There was a shooting pain that ran up my wrist as it came into contact with the metal, but it was better than my fuckin’ head. I must’ve hit his fingers because he lost his grip and the weapon tumbled a couple of feet away from us.

For a split second, my attention was caught on the gun. That was all Mr. Chase needed. His meaty fist hit my temple on the other side, and then he was over me, his hands around my neck. I tried to reach for them, but he slammed my head against the floor. Fuck. Now there were two of him.

“I’ve never wanted to kill someone before, but I’m going to enjoy you taking your last breath. You ruined everything for me. So I’m going to ruin you. And then, when I’m done, I’m going to do the same thing to your precious little Riley. He’ll be so lost, he’ll be grateful for everything I give him.”

“Keep your fuckin’ hands off him!” I tried to scream, but Mr. Chase kept tightenin’ his hold on my hands. I started to kick, buck, scratch, fuckin’ anything, but he slammed my head again and just breathin’ became too hard.

“Get the fuck off him!”

Riley. No. He shouldn’t be here right now. He needed to stay away.

“B-butterfly,” I tried to choke out.

---