Page 1 of Psycho

Chapter 1 – Olivia

My blood ran cold when I took the first punch. By the fourth one, that coldness turned into agonizing pins and needles as each punch or kick landed against my body.

I curled into a ball, forcing myself to protect my vital organs and precious bits from the attack. I didn’t know if it would work, but I had to try.

I had to fucking try.

“Stupid cunt!” Damon’s demonic sneer made my skin crawl as he screamed at me from above. “You just couldn’t do as you were told, could you!”

“I’m sorry!” With my face down and covered, I cried and hiccupped through the pain. I wasn’t dumb enough to think he was done beating me for fucking up.

He never quit that fast.

“No, you’re not!” He barked, grabbing me by the hair and picking me up until I dangled with my toes barely touching the floor. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

I finally opened my eyes, staring at the man I thought I loved through my blurry vision. He was unrecognizable to me.

I guess that happened when drugs took hold of your soul like they had his. A few months ago, I’d been smitten with his bad boy vibes and dark lifestyle.

As I took it all in today, I realized it was probably going to be what killed me.Hewas going to be what killed me.

If it wasn’t from his physical violence, it’d be from dehydration or starvation. Because two days ago he locked me in the windowless room in the basement of his club, and I hadn’t had a drop of water or a bit of food since. The only way I knew how many days I had been alone in the darkness was because of the bouts of vomiting that hit me each morning without fail.

Those had been reliable like clockwork for weeks now, knocking the wind out of me every morning at six o’clock.

Which meant I was running out of time. And I had to make a move, or I was going to disappear into nothingness like all the others before me. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t just give up.

So, as he slammed my back into the wall to scream at me some more about what a useless piece of shit I was, I fought back. Not because I thought I could actually win against his massive body, but because with each hit he returned, he didn’t pay attention to me picking his pockets for his cell phone.

When I finally got it free, I pushed it behind the shelf on the wall stocked with toilet paper and then cowered away from him. I had absolutely no strength left in my body to fight him off and he tired of me quickly. He only enjoyed himself when I fought back.

I fell to a heap on the ground at his feet as he delivered one last kick to my side and spit on me. “Next time, maybe you’ll fucking listen to me.” He cursed.

And then he walked out of the room and locked the door behind him, trapping me in the darkness once again.

I weakly reached over to the shelf from my curled-up ball on the floor, feeling around for the brick of technology, and cried out silently when I found it. There wasn’t much time before he realized he was missing his phone, and even less time before he traced it back to me.

If he came back in the room and found me with it, I was dead.

But if I didn’t manage to pull off my escape, I was dead anyway.

So, through the blood dripping down my face, I painstakingly typed in the only phone number I had memorized and prayed to God she answered.

A wave of dizziness washed over me, spinning my vision as I listened to the relentless ringing.

When her angelic voice finally answered, I sobbed in relief. It was the first time I really cried since Damon first hit me two months ago. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get them to stop once the tears started, either.

“Peyton.” I cried, slurring my words through the pain and fatigue. “Help.”

Her voice echoed through the phone in panic. “Olivia? Livy!” She screamed when I didn’t reply. I suddenly felt like I was lying under a blanket of water as my eyelids drooped closed. “Livy!”

“He’s going to kill me.” I whispered, hoping she could understand me through the gurgles of spit and blood pooling around my lips. “Help.”

“Who? Who’s going to kill you? Where are you?” She cried as air blew through the phone line before she screamed in the background, “Dane! Olivia’s hurt. Help her!” There was shuffling on the line and then my sister’s husband took the phone.

“Olivia. Tell me what you can.”

He was so calm and in charge, my split lip curled up in a faint smile. Dane would find me. If anyone could, he would. “HellEater’s Lounge.” I whispered, curling my arm over my stomach as each breath hurt more than the last. “Basement storeroom.”

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