Page 130 of Choices

More mewling and then a palm slamming against the wood. “Fuck! What have you done, you stupid bitch!” the deep voice bellows.

Movement then doors opening and closing ring around me until I sense him entering my stable and dropping to his knees before me.

Stay calm. Shhh.

When I feel his breath against my cheek and his hand pulls at the lace around my neck, I strike.

Fast, precise, with malice.

“What the fuck?” he barks as I throw all my weight into him. Raising my arm, I plunge the heel of my boot into his eye, knocking him back on his ass. A pained roar echoes from his lips, and I mount him, crazed and with purpose, wrapping the other lace around his neck, once, twice. He yanks the heel from his eye with a squelching gush of blood spraying out and painting my face. In his panic, he tries to place a palm over his socket with one hand and pry off the lace with the other instead of pushing me away.

That’s right. How do you like it when they fight back, asshole?

Getting into a sitting position, he forces me off him with a hard shove. But I’m fast and I round his body, keeping hold of the laces, and drop my weight to the ground behind him. Pushing my knees into his spine, I yank on the laces with every bit of strength I have, almost lifting him up with the effort. A war cry booms from my lips as I lean farther back, tightening the string.

“Die, you motherfucker!” I scream as he grapples at the lace. It takes every ounce of willpower and strength to keep hold of the ends as it cuts into my skin, drawing blood, burning lines over my palms.

“Die, die, die.” I cry. Every photo we’ve had pinned to the wall wash through my mind. Every face. Every victim. “DIE!!!”

Finally, his arms drop, and his body jerks before stilling. The weight makes my arms burn and shake, but I don’t let go. I wait—one, two, three—then release him. Pushing his body away, I jump to my feet, watching for movement. My heart pounds. Adrenaline spikes through my bloodstream. I’ve seen horror movies and I’m not turning my back until he turns blue. Sudden movement by the door catches my eye before the naked girl enters with a shovel. Raising it up, she slams it down on the bastard’s head, a strangled noise vibrating her throat, smacking him over and over until his head resembles red pulp.

Tears stream down her face as she tosses the shovel aside and looks at me. “He’s dead,” I say, offering her a reassuring nod. There’s no way he will come back from that. My eyes scan her trembling form. She’s thin, clearly having been starved. She appears young, but the trauma in her eyes seems to age her beyond her years. God knows how long she has been the victim of his evil. “Let’s get out of here,” I tell her.

Leaning over him, I pat his pocket, hoping to find anything useful, but there’s nothing. Searching the other pocket, I gasp at the shape of a cell phone and tug it free. My mouth pops open. It’s my phone.This fucker must have had some confidence to bring a cell phone into the cells with him. Serial killers do have self-inflated egos. I boot the bastard in the leg for good measure and turn my phone back on, peering at the girl. “It’s okay,” I promise.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, holding a hand out to her.

Tentatively, she takes my hand, and I pull her free from the stable, racing the way the bastard came when he carried me in here. She tugs on my arm anxiously when I reach the wide-open doors leading into the night. “What is it?” I ask, desperate to flee.

Her thin arm raises to a hook nailed to the wall beside the door. My eyes widen, and an exhilarating zap of energy powers through me at the sight of a set of car keys hanging from it. “No fucking way.”

There are fields all around, and a dirt path with a white truck parked by a small fence. In the distance, lights shine from a farmhouse in the stretches of darkness. I look back over my shoulder. The stables are inside a large barn with a small house built into the side of it.

The girl jabs her finger manically towards the truck and almost drags me a few feet before I nod and begin racing with her in its direction.

Getting to the truck, I press the key fob on the keys, and the lights flash on the truck unlocking it.Thank god.Pulling my dress over my head, I tug it down onto the girl’s head, covering her naked, battered body, leaving myself in my panties and bra.

“Get in,” I tell her, slipping into the driver’s side and kicking over the engine. I watch her race around the truck and when the passenger side door closes, I take off, spinning the wheels andkicking up gravel.We both watch the stables fade in our rear view.

We made it.We got him.

I click my phone open, ignoring all the missed calls and unread messages and pull up Monster’s name. Training my eyes on the road ahead, I hit the loudspeaker from muscle memory, placing the phone in my lap. He answers after one ring.

“You’re dead, motherfucker. I’m going to take you apart one cell at a time.” Monster’s deadly voice fills the car. “I know where you are. I’m coming for you.”

“It’s me!” I shout, the severity of everything that’s happened settling into my bones. Emotion clogs my throat and builds in my eyes. “It’s me.”

“Oh, thank fuck. I see your phone on the tracker. I’m close. Fuck, keep coming toward me. Don’t stop for anything.”

“I won’t.”

My vision blurs as the tears begin to fall. Swiping at them, I sniffle, and an uncontrolled laugh hiccups from my lips. Looking over at the girl who’s watching me with wide, blue eyes, I ask, “Do you want to call someone?”

She shrugs her shoulder, her lips miming, “No.”

“Police—we can call the police.”

Rapidly shaking her head, she curls into herself.

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