Page 30 of Marked By Night

“Fuck you, Ben.” My fingernails rake down his arm, likely drawing blood, but I don’t care. He grunts but still doesn’t let me go.

I am so going to make him regret this, that much is certain. Because when I’m able to get my hands on him, I’m going to strangle the life out of him. Now I just need to get myself out of this corner.

I make the split-second decision to kick my leg up toward his groin, hoping to catch him off guard. He expects it, catching my leg in between his thighs. I throw my elbow back into his face, but he’s too fast, inhumanly fast. Although, this time he needs to let go of me to dodge and I make a run for it.

Ben is little more than a blur of movement as he slams me into the wall with enough force to steal the air from my lungs. My head smacks against the concrete hard enough I see stars.

His fingers wrap around my throat, cutting off my air supply. After a minute, my vision starts to go dark and he must sense it too. He drops his hand from my neck to grab my wrists, pinning them above my head. I cough and wheeze, desperately trying to pull air back into my lungs, but it’s painful and ragged.

“Oh no, baby, there will be no passing out on us.” A different voice, one that makes my blood turn to ice in my veins. I stare into a pair of perfect blue eyes. So it wasn’t Ben who slammed me into the wall. Fuck, this is so much worse.

“I want you awake while I bond you to this Circle,” Tyler says before he cracks me across the cheek so sharply my mouth fills with blood.

“What the hell is a Circle?” I demand, then add, “Why are you doing this?” Maybe I can keep the idiot talking long enough to get a handle on my switchblade. The problem is both of my wrists are bound by his hands.

Tyler smirks at me, so I spit in his face, watching with sick satisfaction as it drips down his nose and onto his shirt. He stares at me incredulously before he cracks me across the cheek again. It hurts, it hurts so fucking bad, yet I bear the pain without a sound. There’s no way I’m giving him anything to get off on. He thrives on others’ pain. He leans in and his foul breath assaults my nostrils. “You’ll pay for that,” he says.

All I can smell is whiskey.

My one weakness.

“Ben, grab the dagger. We’re doing this now. She’s too feisty,” he calls out when I manage to get a knee up and kick him in the shin. “Such a fighter, aren’t you? I bet you didn’t expect this.” He continues talking, but I can’t focus.

My mind sways, jerking me back to the past as my current reality mixes with the memories of my childhood.

The air is thick with Mickey’s tainted alcoholic breath. The scent of Jack Daniels seems to leak straight from his pores. Somehow, the man always seems to have an endless supply, despite the fact we’re dirt poor.

Mickey paces across the tiny trailer while he takes another swig straight from the bottle. He never comes home before dark, but of course, this particular night he chooses to come back early. The night Skylar went to pinch some food from the grocery store, leaving me alone with him. My brother is going to be furious when he returns.

“You are fucking useless!” he screams, spittle flying out of his mouth.

With malice in his eyes, he throws the empty whiskey bottle at the wall inches above my head. The glass shatters into a million pieces and the shards rain down on me, slicing open my skin. I barely register the pain. I know better than to react. A tiny drop of whiskey hits my cheek, mingling with the silent tears streaming down my face. He throws something else, but I also know better than to move. It’ll only get worse if I do.

Mickey stumbles over to the liquor cabinet and rips a new bottle off the shelf. He unscrews the cap and takes a long gulp before returning his attention to me. Then he lights up a cigarette with his other hand, and the smoke mingles in the air. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” He blows out a breath in my face before staggering into his room and finally leaving me alone for the night. His words no longer faze me. Sometimes I wish he would’ve, too.

Why? Why me?I cry out to the universe, the Gods, anyone who will listen.

Unsurprisingly, no one answers my cries. Or cares.

The glint of a dagger coming my way is enough to snap me out of my wretched thoughts. This isn’t my uncle. This is Tyler and Ben, and I’m going to make them pay.

Something inside of me snaps as I watch Ben pull a leatherbound book from a backpack and stalk toward me. Somehow, I know if I let them finish this, whatever this is, I’ll never be the same and that’s not going to happen. I let the rage simmering in my bones flow through me, let it fill the cracks within my soul.

While Tyler is busy watching Ben, I react, thrusting my knee up to catch him in his junk. He yelps, letting go of me to nurse his balls but I don’t stop there. I punch him square in the nose, making sure to tuck my thumb in as I follow through. The cartilage breaks under my knuckles with a sickening crack.

Tyler curses, forgetting about his crotch as the fresh pain of his broken nose registers. Blood floods down it freely. He sniffles a few times before looking back at me with all the hatred one can muster in his baby blue eyes. So deceiving. Those eyes should belong to an angel, not a devil. It only amps up the hatred stirring inside of me.

A force hits me from the side as I’m stalking toward him again, throwing me off balance. Before we hit the ground, I shift my weight to make sure I end up on top and I land on Ben’s chest. He bucks, but I lock my thighs around his torso and hold on for dear life as I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his face starts to turn purple.

Tyler grabs a hold of my left arm and jerks me from the ground, yanking my hand behind my back. A loud pop reaches my ears as my shoulder pops out of the socket and I barely hold in my anguished scream. Luckily, the adrenaline pumping through my veins is enough to keep the pain at bay for now, but I know I’ll be hurting later.

What did I ever do to warrant this?I want to scream, but I hold it in because I already know the answer. Nothing. Men like this will always want what they can’t have, and even resent you for not giving in to their sick demands.

Well, fuck them. If I’m going down, I’m taking Ben and Tyler with me.

As discreetly as possible, I slip my switchblade from my pocket with my only working hand, and flick out the blade, making sure to keep it hidden while Tyler is distracted by his friend.

Ben coughs as he draws in air to his empty lungs and rises off the ground, rubbing his throat. “You fucking bitch. I’m going to make sure you regret that,” he snarls.

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