Page 28 of Monster: King of Nevada

“Ollie!” I gasp as the front door opens, and my little brother walks through. “Your eye!”

Touching his cheek, I can’t believe that asshole hit him. Actually, I can; I just don’t like thinking about it because it infuriates me.

“I’m fine, El. I can take a hit.” The stress around his eyes and mouth concerns me.

“What is it? What else has happened?” Owen walks in, sporting a fresh cut on the side of his cheek. “What happened to you, now?”Is the world imploding?I’m feeling dizzy and sway on my feet.

Oliver catches me before I fall. “Whoa, hey, are you okay?”

I’m spiraling. If Blake got to Owen, he can get to me. He can find out where I am.

The baby.

He’ll take it away from me.

Or worse. He’ll kill it before I can ever protect it.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Gripping Oliver’s hand, I drag him upstairs with me. “We have to go. We have to run. Hide.”

“Ella.” Owen’s voice is cautious as he follows behind as I head into my room and start packing the few things I brought with me. “The boss won’t like this, Ella.” His warning doesn’t break through the panic infusing me.

“El, you need to slow down.” Oliver’s anxious tone makes my anxiety worse.

Breathing becomes more difficult as every terrible scenario plays through my mind. I can’t focus or think straight. My vision begins to blur as my ears ring. I bend over the bed, closing my eyes and trying to breathe how Dr. Edwards showed me should a panic attack occur. I joked that I was one bad moment away from one, and she took me seriously. I’m glad she did, but this isn’t working. All it’s doing is giving me time to think of all the heinous things Blake could do to hurt me. Oliver…the baby.

“He’s going to kill us all,” I hiss, dropping to my knees, my vision darkening further. “Oliver, he’s coming.”

I pass out before anyone can reassure or catch me, hitting the side of my head on the night table and transporting into an all too familiar nightmare I’ve battled to escape since the first backhand.

“You think you can leave me!” Blake shouts, spit flying from his mouth. Eyes glazed over from the alcohol he’d been drinking as I cower on the floor, holding my hand to my cheek.

“No, no, of course not. I was just going to the grocery store.” Crying, I struggle to keep the tremor from my voice. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He snarls and takes a step back, grabbing a beer from the fridge before going to sit in the La-Z-Boy chair and turning on a baseball game.

I just wanted to run and grab a few things for dinner when he’d stumbled in the door. There was a weird gleam in his eyes as soon as he spotted me. All I was holding was my purse, carkeys, and a few reusable grocery bags, nothing to suggest I was leaving him. I don’t know why he snapped. What I did.

Getting to my feet, I use the wall to steady myself. Without a word, I slip out the door he entered and run to my car. I spend the ten-minute drive convincing myself it was a mistake. He didn’t mean it. Alcohol does funny things to people’s minds. It won’t happen again.

It won’t.

I won’t let it. I can’t let it. Besides, Blake loves me. He tells me all the time, shows me in so many little ways. He only wants to know I love him back just as much.

After quickly gathering the ingredients I need for dinner, I head back home with a ball of dread in my gut that I ignore because it has to be wrong. Blake has been nothing but sweet and loving towards me until tonight. We’ve been together for over six months now, and he’s never shown this kind of aggression before.

Quietly entering his apartment, I place my bags on the counter. The TV is still playing the ball game as I begin putting my stuff away. As I wash and chop up the vegetables for a salad, I hear Blake get up, and I tense. Hoping he’s not going to come near me.

His hands go to my waist as he pins me to the counter with his hips, face pressed to the side of my head, and my body begins to tremble. “You smell so good,” he whispers like he hadn’t struck me an hour ago.

“Thank you. I got a new body lotion last week.” If I remain polite and cordial, maybe he will, too.

“I like it.” He inhales deeply, burying his face in my neck. “Come to the bedroom with me.” Swallowing roughly, I nod. I’m not willing to anger him now, not when he smells like a brewery.

Leading the way, he begins tearing at my clothes, ripping the fabric as he removes it. I didn’t realize he was so strong.

Shoving me face-first into the bed, he follows me down, unbuckling his belt and pants, and then he kicks my legs apart.

“Blake, wait, wait, Blake!” I scream as he shoves through my resistance, slapping a hand over my mouth as I struggle to push him off. Blake dominates me as I cry into our sheets, my sex unprepared and torn through from his forceful efforts.

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