Page 82 of Corrupting Ivy

I sucked in a breath. Was it him? He killed her? “Wait.” I shook my head. “You were there, though. You gave me your shirt for her.” The piano music faded, and the violin took its place.

“I had to see your reaction when you saw her.” He chuckled. “You can’t give someone a gift and not be there when they open it. What fun is that?”

He turned towards the cabinet and put on a ghoulish mask with a ghastly white face and black pits for the eyes and mouth, then tilted his head to the side. “I couldn’t let her see my face when I kicked her out of the car a ways up the road. I said to her, there’s a beautiful woman in that diner who will help you. Go to her and be quick, there isn’t much time.”

Mr. Grady took it off and laughed. “She was strong, though. Nearly got away when I put her in the trunk to bring her to you.” He tossed the mask back in the cabinet.

Nausea turned my stomach. She was so scared when she walked in.

“Then it was just my luck that you came into my store. You came to me. I could have taken you right there, but it wasn’t the right time. I needed to prepare for you. You’d be my first, after all.”

His eyes flicked down to the blood dripping from my arm, hitting the floor beneath me.

My head swam as though I were sitting in the ocean, the waves twisting my body in every direction. Mr. Grady walked into the dark abyss that made up his hallway and disappeared, leaving me to lament.

It was clear to me now there was no getting out of this, and there was so much left unresolved. So much I wanted to say. There was a point during my six months of freedom I’d planned on getting my life straight and heading back to Greenville. Not to stay, but to confront my parents. She didn’t believe me when I told her about the abuse. I’d never get to tell her how she really made me feel. I’d never get to tell them how much I hated them. How they ruined my life and fed me the most horrific lies about marriage. I’d never get to spit on Billy’s grave. Or feel justified—validated.

I’d never get to see Randall again. Although we’d made it clear that relationships were a thing we didn’t do, I couldn’t help but develop feelings in the short time we’d been around each other. I don’t know if that made me look emotionally immature, where I attached myself to the first man that came around, but if it did, I’ll accept it and hold my head high. He lit an uncontrollable fire inside me and fanned the flames.

We didn’t even get a chance, even if neither of us wanted one. Mr. Grady took that choice from us.

I tugged on my restraints, and my wrist moved further than it had before. My breath hitched in my chest with excitement. I pulled again and watched as the blood acted as a lubricant, allowing me to work my hand through. My hand became stuck at my thumb joint, making me tug harder. I opened my mouth in a silent scream and clenched my eyes tight as I worked the damaged flesh back and forth until my hand popped out and my arm popped back, slamming my elbow into the backrest. I whimpered as the impact caused my fingers to tingle.

Why did someone call that the funny bone?

I stared at my mangled wrist, holding my hand up in front of my face.

I did it.

Oh my god, “I did it,” I said a little too loud, letting him know what I wasdoing.

I shook my head, stunned. I turned my gaze towards the dark hallway and held my breath, waiting for him to come in and see what I’d done. But I couldn’t hear anything. Freedom was only one hand away and a couple of steps forward, out the door. It was so close I could taste it on my tongue. I’d surrendered to the inevitable, thinking I’d die here and no one would find me. But, now, I had hope. I could change my outcome. I narrowed in on the knives on the table before me with a newfound energy, then seized one. The cool metal touched my hand like a foreign object I’d never felt before, then, with a quick slice, I cut off my other tie.

A hand gripped the back of my head and slammed my head into the table.

Stars studded my vision as he pulled my head up and slammed it back down again. The knife fell through my fingers as I lay stunned, my head pounding with pressure. He let go of my hair, and I fell off my chair sideways, the floor rushing up to me.

My body hit the floor like a sack of flour. The wounds he’d inflicted exploded with agony, like an atomic bomb across my body. My freedom. It was so close I could taste it. I just needed to move—to get away. I crawled across the slick floor, dragging myself through my blood, when he rushed me, straddling my hips, and then wrapped his hands around my throat.

“You’ve ruined it. We were so close I could feel it. And now?” He shook me by the throat. The trapped air in my lungs burned as it sought to escape through my blocked airway. “Now, someone will need to take your place.”

I clawed at his wrists and arms, raking my claws through his flesh until crimson beads appeared. But he didn’t stop.

Desperation swelled up in my broken body.

My hips bucked, attempting to force him off, but it was futile; my legs flailed, slipping on the blood beneath me. I kicked the table, making it screech across the wooden floor. The bright specks of light faded as the darkness oozed in. Then a flare flashed beside us.

Mr. Grady released me. “No. No. No.” He jumped to his feet, towards the flash of light when a tsunami of air rushed into my lungs.

I coughed… hard, rolling to my side, reliving the last moment with Randall, before shaking away the memory. He stood over the table, patting it with towels as flames licked up around him. I must have tipped the candles over when I kicked it.

This was my out. This was my chance.

My pulse raced as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I regained my balance and dashed for the door as the violin music switched to deep bass and flute. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor. Pain enveloped my body as I fell to my hands and knees. I clenched my teeth and pressed my lips together, holding back the scream I needed to release, then reached up and touched the metal doorknob.

The cool metal handle felt like freedom in my hand. I couldn’t turn the knob. I pressed my finger to the keyhole on the handle. He’d installed the lock on the inside of the cabin. All hope fell from my shoulders like a dead weight holding me down. I twisted the knob harder and gave it a sharp tug, but still, it wouldn’t move.

I screamed.

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