Page 104 of The Moment Promised

I inhale every drop of confidence I can muster and brace myself for what’s outside this door. My muscles strain trying to push the door, creating a loud thud every time I push, but it won’t open.

A tear rolls down my cheek and my torso constricts in a way that begs to be in the fetal position. I suddenly feel like a little girl again, like I’m two feet tall and stand no chance against the ginormous man who I’m forced to call Dad.

A salty tear slides into my mouth. A heart wrenching sob leaves my throat. “Open this door, Jason!” I scream with everything in me.

But I get no response.

My palms sting with each smack I take out on the door. The thud of whatever blocks it sends my nervous system into turmoil, but I don’t stop. I scream with each blow to the door, my blood hotter than hell fire. I throw myself into the door, but it doesn’t open.

“Shit.” I succumb to the reality that I have no control here. My fate has been unfairly handed over to Jason.

I take four steps back until I feel the opposite wall hit my back, and I slowly slide down to the floor.

Only a second passes, and then something heavy is dragged away from the laundry room door. My heart picks up and slams into my ears.

The door slowly creaks open, in a mocking manner. As if it were that easy all along.

My eyes make the dreadful journey from the stomach-turning boots, dirtied jeans, a beer belly dressed in a wife beater tank top—how disgustingly ironic—and meet crazed eyes.

I stand up and take two shaky steps forward, toward the door and inevitably Jason. He doesn’t move a muscle. He just stares at me with blood shot eyes.

I move around his wide frame, inhaling a shaky breath as I graze him, but a rough hand yanks me back by the forearm.

I wince at the soreness that spreads throughout my body.

“If you don’t let me go—” My voice trembles.

“What will you do?” he shouts, my back toward him and his mouth only a few inches away from my ear. “But before you answer…” He scrambles through what sounds like his jean pockets. Suddenly I am staring at a phone—his phone—I squint my eyes at the text messages displayed.

Finn’s address.

A detailed description of what Finn and my mom look like.

Jason ordering the unknown number to kill Finn on his demand.

All the air leaves the room until I’m left gasping for relief.

52ndstreet. Yup that’s it, I’ll let you know when.

No. It can’t be. The world around me spins so quickly I’m losing balance. He’s texting…a hitman? My dad hired a hitman—someone to kill Finn.

My brain tries to grasp that the person I love the most in this world is unknowingly a call away from death. One call and the person holding me to this earth, like gravity, will be wrongfully taken from me. From his mother and father.

I focus in on the presence who stands behind me, fearful I might not live to see tomorrow. Or even the nightfall.

Jason—my narcissistic and abusive father—just reached a whole new level of insanity. He doesn’t just want to injure…he wants to kill.

“You’re sick,” I seethe, my vision turns red as I shake uncontrollably.

He just grips onto my arm harder. His fingernails break my skin.

I quickly turn around, feeling unsettled with my back toward him. The look in his eye is something I could never imagine inmy worst nightmares…the image of someone who’s thinking of killing you.

Never in a million years did I think my world would collide with dark things like hitmen.

How can he even afford…that?

Now is not the time to dig deep for answers, but I make a mental note to find out the second I’m free. If I ever get that chance.

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