Page 55 of Pen Pal

I had to get to Amara. No matter why she stopped writing me, she was mine. She didn’t get to get rid of me that easily. If she was in danger, I wouldn’t stop until it was eradicated.

Nothing, not even prison, could stop me.

20

Amara

Iopened my eyes and knew my nightmare wasn’t over yet. My head pounded, my body ached, and the metallic taste of blood coated my tongue. The rope burned my skin, binding my hands behind a wooden chair—my dining room chair, the same that Enzo used to chain Mark. The air was thick and stale, suffocating, polluted with the sharp stench of sweat and cigarettes.

Mark sat across from me, his lip curled into something that wasn’t exactly a smile but not entirely a grimace. His once familiar eyes were cold and hollow, eaten away by something disgusting and insatiable.

His legs were spread in a lazy sprawl, the gun twirling between his fingers. He looked pleased, like the cat who finally ate the canary.

“Rise and shine, sweetie,” he announced in a fake affectionate voice, making my skin crawl.

Pain clawed up my throat, and I winced, trying my best to hide the hard pounding in my chest.

“You sleep too much,” he muttered, his voice dripping bitterness and resentment. His fingers toyed with his pistol, the silver barrel gleaming in the dim light. “You were out for a bit,” he continued. “But I want you awake for this next part, so I’ll try not to hit you too hard.”

My breath quickened, and I swallowed against the nausea churning my stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d go this far. Harassment charges, divorce? After everything I did for you?” His voice sharpened and became rough and dark, his knuckles going white around the gun. “I worked hard every day and paid for the roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food on my table. You’d think you’d show some fucking gratitude.”

Breathe.

It was the mantra I made, and I repeated it to myself. Something simple for me to focus on while I tried to survive the horrors that surrounded me.

Breathe.

“Answer me, bitch!” Mark screamed. “Why did you have to fuck everything up? Why couldn’t you just be a good fucking wife?”

Terror slammed against my ribs. “I—” my voice cracked, my throat raw from screaming and crying. “Mark,” I rasped. “I—"

Mark reached for me, gripping my chin hard enough to bruise. He tilted my face, studying me like some germs he observed under a microscope.

“You used to be so fucking demure,” he cooed, his thumb running over my split lip. “So obedient, but now? You think you can just walk away?”

I jerked my head back, my stomach rolling as the odor of his breath washed over me; cigarettes, whisky, and demented rage.

“We’re beyond that now. You don’t get to leave me, ever,” he laughed.

A shiver of raw dread crawled up my spine.

“I found out why you weren’t getting pregnant,” Mark snarled, taking my phone and shoving it in my face. “All those appointments to the fucking doctor every three months? You were on the fucking birth control shot, weren’t you?”

I didn’t answer. Even if I tried, I knew that my voice was gone. I’d screamed until it went hoarse and burned.

“You fucking lying whore,” he spat. “You destroyed our marriage. Youdid. If you had gottenpregnant, I wouldn’t have needed to cheat on you to get my daughter. But no, you always need to make things so difficult, don’t you?”

I sat silently, but my heart sank for his child. He’d always wanted a boy, but his secretary was expecting a little girl? He would belittle her and abuse her just like he did with me, and the poor thing would grow up traumatized. She’d think that was what love was, and Erin was too infatuated with him to leave.

Mark would destroy another innocent life, just like he ruined mine and was tainting Erin’s.

His hand shot out, fingers tangling in my hair as he yanked my head back. A sharp gasp ripped from my lips as pain radiated in my skull.

“You gave me time to think,” he muttered, his breath hot against my cheek. “About all those little games you like to play. The charges, the divorce, the birth control, and moving out. You really thought you could escape me?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to reply. That’s what Mark wanted: me to goad him and give him an excuse to lash out.

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