Page 7 of Beautifully Wounded

“Stop!” I scream, and without second guessing myself, I press the tip of the shard to my neck. “I’ll do it! I swear I will!”

Both men freeze in place, and the guy at the back shoots his gaze to the back of the other guy’s head as he speaks. “Sarg. What do we do?”

The other man, Sarg, doesn’t answer him, instead he speaks to me.

“You don’t really want to do that. What you want is to escape this house. Am I right?”

My chest heaves as my hand trembles, and I feel the sharp tip scratch the surface of my skin.

“Think about it. If you hurt yourself, you’ll just end up in hospital with doctors telling you what you can and can’t do. Maybe they’ll even put you in the looney bin. Is that what you want?”

My head shakes in answer, but no words leave my lips. I can’t make sense of this situation.

What’s happening here?

What’s right and wrong in this moment?

“Then put the glass down.”

The deep baritone of his voice keeps me in place, my eyes locking with his as we stare at each other. When did he get that close?

I blink a few times, trying to rid my eyes of the tears as his intense gaze stays on mine. His eyes are brown too, but maybe slightly lighter than mine. They remind me of the whiskey my dad swirls in the bottom of his glass when he’s deep in thought. Like a rich and vibrant amber.

“Put it down. Now!”

The demand is loud, falling from Sarg’s lips as he lunges for me. I’m so shocked by the abruptness that on reflex, I drop the shard, lurching backwards so hard I practically wind myself on the wall behind me as I collide with it.

In a matter of seconds, he and the second man are on me, strong hands cuffing my wrists so I can’t fight them, and even though I struggle with everything in me, I’m no match for their brute strength.

I scream as the three of us go crashing to my bed, and I hear them grunting orders to each other as they wrangle me. But really, there’s no need. I’m helpless to fight them.

Somehow, I end up face down on the bed, the heavy weight of one of the men on my back, pressing me into my mattress.

Memories start rushing to the forefront of my mind, and I squeeze my lids shut.

No. Don’t think about it, Abbey. Don’t think about it.

I try to ward off the trauma I have no idea how to deal with, willing the flashes of memory determined to force their way in and consume me to stay back. They aren’t welcome here.

“Please d-don’t.” I beg, hoping he’s not here to dothat. Please, anything butthat.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” The deep rumble comes from the one called Sarg, his rasp against my ear, his breath warm across my cheek as he speaks. “We’re going to go and see your parents. And then we are going to leave. You will do everything I tell you, without argument. Do you understand?”

I nod into the mattress, even though I want to defy him and say no.

Suddenly, the heavy weight is off me, and I go to push myself up, but realise my hands are tied behind my back.

My heart thrashes wildly, terror washing over me at being bound, the beating organ in my chest pounding so violently I fear it will stop at any second.

This can’t be happening.

Why is this happening?

With two firm hands gripping my upper arms, I’m hauled off my bed, the sudden movement forcing a gasp from my lips.

“Jay!” He booms from behind me, and I whimper, shrinking in on myself as he holds me back against his chest.

The other man, who was doing nothing but staring at me, quickly moves out into the passage, gesturing to someone else, and he steps out of the way as another man steps in.

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