Page 11 of Arseni

“Because I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

Lips trembling, I do as he says, but I’m not so sure he won’t just kill me anyway.

“I-I have money in my purse, and I can get more from the ATM down the block.There’s a petty cash fund?—”

He shoves me so I fall flat on the ledge, my hands pressed against cold concrete to brace myself.My body is stiff as iron, but it must not weigh as much because the man easily lifts me by my waist.

I shriek as he hauls me over the concrete barrier, my belly sliding forward until my midsection feels nothing but air.As I look down twenty-one stories at the sidewalk below, I scream so loud and so long that my throat begins to burn.He has me by my ankles and slides me farther off the ledge until I’m dangling, the only thing keeping me from splatting on the concrete below is his grip.

Panic tears at every cell in my body while I flail and screech into dead air that swallows up my protests.If there are people below, they can’t hear me.They certainly can’t get to me in time.

“Please,” I cry, trying to keep my body still while closing my eyes.Tears slip through the closed lids and fall to their death.“Please, please, please, I’ll do anything you want.Anything!”

When my weight shifts in his hold, I scrunch up my body in anticipation for the drop.I’ve never spent a second more horrified.All I can think, my last thought presumably, is that I’m a damn fool.He’sruined me to the point where even at my death, it’s him I stupidly feared.Himwho made me underestimate real danger.

This man is no dog.He isn’t even a wolf.He’s the fucking devil.

The man drags me back onto the ledge, back to the delusional sense of safety.When my cotton-covered belly flattens on concrete, I’m flipped over, my knees spreading as far as the pencil skirt will allow at the insistence of the man’s brutal hands.He uses his knife to tear a slit up my skirt so he can situate himself against my lacy-covered opening.

I can feel his erection bulging through his pants, mere cloth protecting me.I can’t even feel disgusted by it.Can’t feelanythingbut the quaky fear of him throwing me off this ledge.

“Are you ready to listen now?”he asks, leaning so we’re face-to-face.His breath smells like cigarettes, and it makes me think of the butts I found on my back patio.

I nod profusely.“Y-yes.”

He smiles while taking me in, his head tilting.He’s enjoying every second of this, and I don’t know what that means for me.If I should be more or less afraid.

“There’s a man in your firm named Henry Duncan.Recently, he turned down work for someone very dear to me, and you’re going to convince him to make it right.I know where you sleep.I know where you park your red coupe.I know everything I need to know to come back and hurt you if you don’t get this done.”

He shows me his knife then flips it around so he’s holding the blade.When he pushes my panties aside, I gasp at the sudden cool air, but it’s a butterfly kiss in comparison to what he does a moment later.

My core tenses as the man inserts the rough surface of the knife’s handle into me, not stopping until he’s assaulted every inch of me possible without the sharp metal cutting.My mouth opens, but my cry is so strangled, hardly anything comes out.

“Can you guess how I’ll choose to hurt you, Margot?”he asks while he saws the handle inside of me.My thoughts of falling fade until all I can think about is his assault on my body.The idea of the man turning the knife around and fucking me with the blade feels like such a real possibility that I lie perfectly still and don’t utter a breath of protest.

When he pulls the handle out, I still can’t breathe.I’m paralyzed as I watch him bring it to his open mouth.He licks the handle with a savage groan that feels personal.So much bigger than a job his friend wants Henry to do.

He winks at me as he clicks the knife shut.

“You have twenty-four hours.”

The promise of tomorrow doesn’t register in his words until he turns and heads back to the stairwell, leaving me on the ledge fear-stricken and violated.I slowly sit up and wrap my arms around myself.Tears and snot run cold on my face while I try to pull myself together.

Henry.

They wantHenry.

He’ll do it.I have no question he’ll do it, even if I don’t tell him about what just happened.The man is a sweetheart.He’d do whatever you asked just because you said please.

After giving myself a few more minutes to cry, I hop off the ledge and tread back down the stairs to Austin’s office, shaking at what I might see.I close my eyes while I work up the courage to open his door.

Holding my breath, I turn the knob and peek inside to find it empty.When I go back to my office, I find my phone and see a picture Austin texted me.Somebody smashed his car windows.He’s with the police now.

I sink until I’m a sobbing mess on my office floor, my skirt ruined, my makeup smeared.

It’s minutes before I realize I’m not crying anymore because of what the man did.Or even because of what he might do.I’m crying because I’m tired.After seven years, I’m so,sotired.Suddenly, it feels terribly naive that I planned to sleep here tonight.

As if there’s anywhere I could be safe.

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