Page 6 of Hunted, Season Three

The options suck.

We’re talking malfunctioning excel formula suck.

“You wanted to make me jealous…”

No.

I wanted to behappy.

“And then you wanted to make me extremely jealous.”

No.

I wanted to actuallylive.

“I did not like that.”

The change in his tone has me cutting a small glimpse upward to see that I have even less time than I thought.

Fuck!

I gotta find something!

I gotta come up with something!

I gotta getoutof this car and buy myself a bit of time!

Construct a better weapon.

Find my guys.

Make sure they’re alive.

I mean…theyhaveto be.

I’d feel it if they weren’t.

Which I know sounds crazy and insane and insane crazy, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

Kind of like having a man convince himself of a relationship that no longer exists.

Or that the relationship he crafted us having was romantic rather than abusive.

Reaching for the pen I abandoned earlier craftily precedes positioning it on the side of my leg out of sight.

“I should’ve killed them for what they did to you,” he tauntingly wags the hammer, “but I didn’t.” The corner of his paper-thin lips curls upward.“Call it your early Christmas present, Sweet Pea.”

I’ll call it the Christmas miracle that it is.

“That’s how much I love you.”

Each step closer churns my stomach and encourages me to grip the writing utensil harder.

“Plus, I want them to watch us.”

To suck in the much-needed oxygen.

“Like I had to watch them.”

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