Page 72 of What He Wants

I grasped the front of my ruined blouse, scooted around him and ran to the other side of the room, back toward the stairs leading up to the kitchen. I barely made it up two steps when he caught me by the hair and hauled me back down. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tight, biting the lobe of my ear hard enough to make me cry out. He swung me back toward the room.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he grated into my ear. “Make you suffer for your betrayal.”

“You’re sick, Paul!” I struggled to break away. A low moan drew my gaze to Jasmine to see that she was coming around slowly.

“Maybe I should show you how it feels to see me fucking another woman,” he threatened, turning me stone cold. “Maybe then you’ll realize what you had and lost.”

His laugh was positively evil sounding, and my eyes rounded when I felt him getting hard against my butt. I knew that I had to take his mind of Jasmine, sickeningly aware that if I did that and put his attention on me that I would be the one to suffer his abuse. I shuddered, unwillingly remembering how Paul liked to inflict pain. He was a sexual sadist.

Jasmine moaned again, and I watched as she lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes. She blinked rapidly, to clear her vision, before focusing her painfilled gaze on us. “Daisy…” She winced when she spoke and I knew it was because of the damage done to her mouth. “What?” She shook her head, moaning. I had to wonder if her nose was broken or if she had a concussion.

“Jasmine!” I called out, tears burning in my eyes. “I’m so sorry!” She was naked and vulnerable and there was nothing I could do to help her.

“Too bad. She was beautiful,” Paul murmured. “Her body still looks nice, though.”

Sick pervert! I threw my head back and hit him as hard as I could in the nose. He released me with a scream, and I spun around to see him teetering on the heels of his feet and grabbing his bloody nose. Good! Maybe I’d broken it. I glanced around wildly for something to use as a weapon, noticing an array of tool-like instruments on the bench. I ran there and grabbed one after another and throwing it at him as hard as I could.

For a minute, all Paul could do was throw his hands over his head and cower in place as each item bounced off him. His grunts indicated that some of the tools had hit their mark but nothing knocked him out or off his feet. He yelled threats at me but I continued to pummel him until I was down to just a few tools left. I snatched up the longest, sharpest item and twirled back around to face him, putting myself in front of Jasmine. I held the tool out in front of me. “I’m warning you, Paul, come near us and I’ll kill you.”

I’d do it, too.

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed, slowly looking up and over his arm after nothing else hit him. The look on his face was frightening, full of hate with retribution in his eyes.

I took a deep breath, satisfied when I saw the small trickle of blood running down his forehead, realizing that I’d been the cause of hurting him. For once, I’d made him bleed. “How do you like being hurt for a change, Paul, huh? How does it feel being made to feel weak and defenseless?” I remembered all the times he’d made me feel that way.

His lips pulled back from his teeth as he growled viciously, “I am going to enjoy this.”

I knew what ‘this’ was, too. If he got his hands on me I knew that it would be over. He would rape me, I had no doubts about that. He would do everything within his power to degrade me, and hurt me. Only this time I intended on fighting back with all I was worth. Never again would I let Paul, or any man, take something I wasn’t willingly giving freely. He might take it in the end, but it wouldn’t be because I was too afraid or weak to fight.

I wasn’t going to hand it over.

“Go ahead, you bastard!” I hadn’t meant to goad him but the words came out before I could stop them. “Try it! You might be bigger and stronger than me. You might hurt me, even kill me in the end. But anyone who sees you after will know that I didn’t go down without a fight. I’m going to use everything at my disposal to maim you so that the world will see you for the monster you are! A weak, spineless prick who beats innocent, weaker women because that’s the only way you can get your rocks off!”

By the time I was done I was shaking. Paul had turned a deep shade of red and his eyes were practically shooting fire at me. He made me think of a rabid animal getting ready to attack, foaming at the mouth. I imagined hearing the truth hurt and it had felt so good getting out everything I’d been wanting to say for years. I was still afraid of him, but I refused to give in to it.

I was done being his whipping post.

I’d earned that right by leaving him.

I’d secured my freedom.

The knowledge that I’d picked myself up and dusted myself off to live again, to find happiness, gave me the push I needed to keep my head. To straighten my shoulders and face my demons. Thinking about Big John gave me the courage to not give up. I wanted to fight for my life. For our life together. Staring at Paul and knowing that he was going to come at me any second made me sick inside. Jasmine moaned behind me, straightening my resolve. I had her to think about, too.

Paul’s eyes shifted between mine and the tool I held in my hand. It was metal, oblong in shape, about eight inches long or so with ridges, and resembled a file, yet one end was long and pointed. I was holding the pointed end outward toward him but the reality was that he could still get close enough to overpower me.

“Daisy,” Jasmine murmured in a wounded tone behind me, and I could tell that she was crying. My beautiful, strong friend.

I kept my gaze glued to Paul. “I’m here, honey.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“The bastard… he raped me.”

I froze as her whispered words registered with me. So that was why it had taken Paul so long to get back to me after he’d taken Jasmine inside first. Why I’d been forced to wait in the car, handcuffed to the steering wheel. Her nakedness hadn’t made sense to me and now I knew the reason why he’d removed her clothes. His insatiable need to inflict pain and degrade his victim. He was a monster and I hated him. Hated him so much that I began to shake with it. The sense of guilt that I was the reason she’d been hurt overwhelmed me. I couldn’t hold back the tears, or the rage building inside my heart. Paul’s cocky, self-satisfied smile when he’d obviously overheard her remark had been the last straw.

I let loose a warrior scream of fury and hatred running toward him with the intention of killing him. I was possessed, and a moment of surprise and pure fear filtered in his soulless eyes, holding him still. As if he couldn’t believe that I was actually doing it, attacking him without waiting for him to attack me first. Caught off guard, or in shock, he stood there frozen as I brought my weapon down and caught him in the shoulder. With a cry of pain he protected himself from my next blow by grasping my wrist when I brought it down to deliver another blow.

“You fucking whore!” Paul screamed, as he struggled to gain control of my weapon. I was no match for him and we both knew it.

He bent my wrist backwards and I knew that he was going to break it if I didn’t do something fast. I twisted and kneed him in the balls as hard as I could. He groaned and released me immediately, bending over in pain, and I used the situation to my advantage by striking out at him again. I didn’t have time to appreciate his girl-like scream when the sharp end of the tool met its mark, going deep inside the same shoulder I’d stabbed him in before. At that point, Paul had to have realized that he’d lost control of the situation.

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