Page 75 of Death Match

I followed.

As if she planned this moment for some time, she sprinted to the closet beside the front door, ruffled through the many garbage bags in there, and pulled out a duffle bag that had been carefully stored away but was jammed back with stuff; it was an emergency getaway bag that she’d hidden but kept close just in case it was ever needed.

Seconds later, Ed’s large frame came lumbering into the living room, belt off and now in his hand, and pants undone.

“Where are you going?” he called after her. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“What is that?” He took another step towards her and realization dawned on his face. He gripped the leather belt tighter in his hand, and I wondered if that had been one of the weapons that he’d use to create all those bruises marking her and my skin. Besides his fists.

“Come here,” his command boomed, causing a shiver to snake up my spine. “Now.”

Jade paused, her gaze downcast. Too afraid to look at him.

Come on, Jade. You’re going to have to fight.

The problem was, I wasn’t sure if living-Jade could do it. Not against him, the person who terrified her.

Where was my mother through all of this? Did she know what was going on in this house, between her daughters and her boyfriend? Had I talked to her about it?

Asking those questions brought forth feelings of bitterness, betrayal, and hurt from my memory, giving me my answer. Looked like my mother had known but either hadn’t cared enough to do anything or hadn’t believed it to be true. Hence the secrecy around it all. Jade—I—had felt alone, and by being the only one getting hurt by Ed, I’d been keeping the burden away from everyone else. Like Tina.

“Come. Here,” Ed repeated, putting emphasis to each word.

She took a defiant step toward the door.

“Jade,” he warned, twisting the belt in his grasp.

Living-Jade looked up, meeting his gaze head on for the first time—maybe since forever. All the pain, anger, and fear hung in her stare; her stiff posture full of determination. She may have been afraid, but she was done with him and everything he’d done to her. Her mind was made up.

“Fuck you,” she said, her voice no louder than a shallow whisper. Her eyes gleamed with hateful tears.

Ed leaned forward, shocked and enraged by her words. “Excuse me?” he said. “What did you just say to me?”

“Fuck you, Ed,” she repeated, with more courage this time. As if she’d been waiting to say it for years, and now that it was off her lips, it was giving her strength by the second. “Fuck you.”

Swinging the heavy duffle bag over her shoulder, she reached for the door’s handle.

Boom.

Ed collided with Jade, throwing her up against the door and pinning her there with his entire body and the belt around her neck. He’d moved so fast, I hadn’t even seen him until he was on top of living-me, using all his size and strength to hold her in place.

Living-Jade cried out, but because of the belt tightly against her throat, it came out more like a gurgling sound. Her feet kicked out, and she managed to land a few good hits to his knees, but they weren’t enough to move him.

“You stupid bitch,” he spat out, his face inches from hers and bright red with his fury. “You think you’re going somewhere?” His cocky laughter filled my ears, bringing forth more memories of before. Usually, whenever I had tried to struggle or fight back, he’d laugh manically, like he did now. I had hated his laughter then, and I hated it now just the same. He was mocking my pain.

Living-Jade clawed at his arms, trying with everything to pry him off her. But he was too strong.

His eyes were wild with anger and the effects of the drugs. He continued to laugh at her as she struggled. “You’re not going to be leaving here. Ever again.”

Belt still around her throat, Ed slammed the back of her head against the door so hard, living-Jade’s eyelids fluttered as unconsciousness threatened to take hold. The duffle bag she’d been holding fell to the floor by their feet.

Through it all, he continued to laugh that terrible, unforgettable laugh.

Beyond the door, the sounds of hurried footsteps came from someone rushing up the steps toward the apartment.

Ricky. It had to be. He was coming for me.

Outside, police sirens wailed. He’d called the cops?

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