Page 55 of Burn Bag
“No!” I shouted, fighting harder with him now that I was so close to the door. “You can’t make me! I’m not going anywhere!”
I lost it and swung hard at him, clipping the edge of his lip in my haste to get away from him. It wasn’t rational, but I couldn’t stop the panic growing inside me. I would not leave this house. I would not go out that door and get in his vehicle.
“Daphne!” he shouted. “What the fuck is the big deal? They’re going to check it out and wrap it or give you something for the pain.”
“No!” I continued to scream as he bent over and hauled me over his shoulder. Panic flared even harder as he stalked out the front door. I grabbed onto the doorframe and held on for dear life as he pulled me outside. “I won’t go! You can’t make me!”
I was flailing hard, kicking and punching, all while keeping a tenuous hold on the doorframe. I heard him grunt a few times and hoped that meant I was winning, but when my fingers slipped, I knew this was the end. He was going to put me in that truck and that would be the end of everything.
“Do I need to knock you out?” he shouted.
“You can’t make me go! You don’t own me!”
“You’re my fucking wife!”
“And that doesn’t mean you can order me around!” I shouted, beating my hands on his back. It stung like a bitch, but I didn’t relent. I couldn’t.
“Woman! Stop fucking hitting me!”
“Problems already?” one of the guys called out, laughing at the two of us.
“I’ve got things handled,” he called out.
That was all I needed, just the small distraction from his friend gave me the in to get in one good shot to his balls. His grip immediately loosened and we went tumbling to the ground in a heap. He rolled over, cupping his groin as I got up and sprinted away from him.
“Catch her!”
My eyes widened in horror as the hulking man in front of me grinned. The last thing I saw was his hands coming toward me. Then I felt a pressure around my neck and everything went black.
“I still don’t understandwhy you had me knock her out.”
“I didn’t fucking tell you to knock her out,” Bradley snapped. “I said to catch her.”
“That’s the same fucking thing!”
“No, it’s not. One involves stopping a person, and the other involves knocking that person out.”
“Again, that’s the same thing!”
I groaned as I rolled to my side, gasping when I saw I was on a gurney in a curtained-off room—just like Bradley had been in the day before. I jerked upright, biting back a scream as my husband stood in front of me with a smirk on his face.
“What did you do?” I said accusingly.
“I brought you into the hospital.”
“For what? I’m fine!”
“You had some pretty bad burns,” he countered. “I wanted to make sure you were fine.”
“Of course I was fine!” I hissed, wincing when I saw my arm wrapped in gauze.
His friend snorted in amusement. “That’s what the doc said, too.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Bradley snapped. “You had burns all up and down your arm. Who fucking taught you to cook?”
“Nobody,” I hissed, then snapped my mouth shut.
His friend chuckled, watching the two of us like we were an attraction at an amusement park. “Who knew a Monday morning could be so entertaining?”
