Page 50 of Strings Attached
Pressure in my left side like a small punch. A tingle spread from the area, intensifying with every second, as though someone was electrocuting me there. Had he tased me? Heat like I’d never felt in my life before throbbed, and I stared down between us. My eyes widened as he pulled back his hand, retracting a small blade with it. I opened and closed my mouth as the pain grew, and I pressed my hand against the wound. Warm liquid soaked through between my fingers, and I let out a cry as I slid down to the floor.
Jack crouched in front of me and pulled off my scarf, pushing it against my wound. “The police are on the way. Someone definitely reported all the shots I fired.” His voice was cold and distant—that hurt more than the stab. “I’m giving you the option to walk away now, Jill. If you don’t contact me again, I’ll never bother you again. If you want out, now’s the time to take it.” He grasped my chin, forcing me to look into the blackened eyes. “But if you send me any kind of communication, nothing will stop me from keeping you. Do you understand?”
I nodded slowly as black spots filled my vision. He pushed harder against the scarf, and I gasped. “Ow...”
“Put a lot of pressure. It won’t be long now, darling girl.”
He straightened, and before I could say anything else, he left by a back door. I stayed on the floor, wondering if this plan of his would really work.
32
Victim
Nina held my hand the entire time I spoke to the detective in charge of this case. Not once did he seem suspicious; if anything, he sounded sorry I was dragged into this whole mess.
“You were so brave,” Nina said, giving my fingers a quick squeeze. “You poor thing.” She pushed a strand of my hair from my bruised face. “I wish you’d come to me for help.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” That wasn’t a lie; even if I could go back in time and change something, I never would’ve gotten her involved in this mess.
Luckily?or as planned?my stab wound was superficial and only needed a few stitches. They x-rayed me for any broken bones after I told them I’d been beaten, but I was all clear to leave the hospital. Nina drove me home and insisted on coming to visit me during the week to help me with anything I might need. I was thankful, but guilt weighed heavily on me; I’d gotten myself into this mess. And I still didn’t know what I wanted to do about Jack. What if it was for the best we went our separate ways? Yet, that thought made my heart ache so hard I thought for sure it would stop.
But what if he’d said that as a kind way of breaking things off with me? Maybe he didn’t want me in his life anymore after I’d caused him so much annoyance. I hated my inner thoughts for the constant nagging of what-ifs.
After a week of healing, I was back in class. Elsie nearly broke down when she saw me, and I explained a bit of what had happened. As I’d suspected, she’d assumed I’d left and didn’t want her to try and talk me into staying again. She felt beyond guilty, and it took me all of our first class together to convince her I didn’t blame her for any of it.
My smartphone dinged with a notification from the professor teaching my next class, stating it would be canceled due to the flu. I checked the time; Jack would be sleeping around this time, but...I had to see him. I knew what it meant, though. That there would be no leaving afterward. Not unless it was by becoming paint for one of his canvases.
I excused myself, stating I was still a bit under the weather, and my professor let me go without any protest. As I went outside into a blast of cold air, I let Nina know my class was canceled but that I would be working on my report for the rest of the day. In a way, I wasn’t lying, but there was so much more at stake.
I bounced up and down from one leg to the other, trying to stay warm while doing my best to ignore the constant pain shooting through my body. The taxi took longer to arrive, and by the time it did, I was at risk of becoming an ice sculpture. Thankfully, the vehicle was hot, and I rubbed my hands together as I gave him the address.
Snowflakes fell from the sky, and I leaned my head against the window. What was I going to say to Jack when I got to his place? Should I text him in advance? My heart pounded as I typed in a quick message saying I was on my way to him. That way, if he didn’t want to see me, I could save myself a bit of money and go back home already. That thought shattered my heart into a million pieces.
Jack: I’ll see you soon.
He didn’t refuse—that was already a good sign. But I couldn’t guess what his mood was from his text. That made me nervous. I kept glancing from my screen to outside, half-expecting him to suddenly send me a message to go back home instead. By the time the vehicle pulled up to his place, my stomach churned. I paid the driver another forty dollars and slipped out of the car, heading toward Jack’s home. Although, I wasn’t sure if I should head to the garage or the main door. I wasn’t coming in with him this time, nor was I breaking in.
I went to the main door and pressed the button for the doorbell. When Jack opened the door, he moved to the side and motioned me in.
My pulse sped as I entered, slipping off my boots and coat before turning to him.
“So you chose to come back?” he asked in such a stony tone I nearly started crying. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I nodded as I bit my lower lip. “Is it what you’d like?”
He pulled me in for a hug, holding me close in silence for what felt like an eternity. I didn’t mind at all. We belonged together, and I didn’t care what it took to stay with him until the end. Until my end.
“Come with me.” He led me toward the dining room partition, and my face heated as I remembered how he’d tied me to this table as I tried my best not to bite down into a strawberry while he ate me out.
He sat on one of the chairs, keeping me standing in front of him. “I want to see it.”
I already knew what he was talking about; I lifted my top and lowered my leggings a bit so he could see the stitches. They’d have to come out in a little less than a week, but the scarring already looked pretty good.
He traced his finger along it, and I shivered. “I’ve never seen one of mine stitched up,” he said quietly. I couldn’t help but grin; it was as though he was talking to someone’s pregnant belly.
At the thought, I placed my hand against his, and he looked up at me. “I can’t have kids. I had my tubes tied years ago.”
He arched an eyebrow as a slow smile curled his lips. “I wouldn’t make a good father, so that’s good.”
