Page 56 of Forbidden Pregnancy
The anxiety I felt sitting in a car that nice made me want to fart. Luckily, I don’t have that problem in my rideshare’s Honda Civic. I thank Abdul for the ride, and stand outside the bar where Michael instructed me to meet. It’s not as busy as I expected and honestly, the bar looks closed.
Did I screw this up somehow? I glance down at my phone to text Michael.
Me: I’m outside
Michael: I can see you cherry pie.
I look over my shoulder. A chill runs up my spine and I want to scream, but there isn’t enough time. My body floods with hormones instantly, but instead of running away, I freeze like a deer. Two large figures hurtle towards me. Finally, I scream and dart back towards the crosswalk, but it’s not enough time to react.
One hand clamps around my wrist and as I struggle to wrestle my grip away, the other assailant presses cold metal against my spine. Panic flashes through my head. GET AWAY. I don’t think about who might be responsible, just the immediate thought that I need to escape.
“Move one muscle and I’ll paint the sidewalk with your brains, bitch.”
His accent is distinctly Western New York – cowboy meets farmer. I shudder and freeze in place, too scared to move and provoke this monster to pull the trigger on whatever piece he has shoved up against my back.
Michael will save me. Michael’s in the mob and he’s not going to let this happen.
The man holding my wrist drags me away from the main road and I start screaming and crying out, because I was always taught to never let anyone take you to a second location in this situation.They’re going to kill me.
The one holding the gun raises his elbow and I scream loudly when I think he’s going to shoot me, but he doesn’t shoot. Instead, his arm lands on my head and I hear a sound likea coconut bouncing off a brick wall.That’s my head. He just cracked my head open.My body jerks backward and I fall into the arms of the second assailant.
“We’re supposed to shake her up a bit, not kill her you stupid fuck.”
The second assailant smells like tobacco dip. My stomach retches and the fear reaches impossible levels to control as they shove me up against a wall in the alley outside Horseheads Pub. I whimper and silently tell myself that Michael won’t let this happen.
Michael will save me.
The man holding me throws me up against the wall. I grunt and the wind knocked out of me starts up another vein of panic. My fists fly out from my body recklessly. I want to hit, punch, do whatever I can to make attacking me more difficult for my assailants.
Throwing my fists a couple times along with screaming and kicking quickly tires me out. I can feel my screams getting more strained, and my fighting back only puts off the inevitable. My head throbs. There’s blood everywhere — and I just want to get away so they don’t drag me off to a second location and toss me into a ditch.
The second assailant grabs a hold of me and then pushes me up against the wall, finally gaining control over my limbs enough that they can pin me up against the alleyway wall. Powerlessness over my limbs sends my panic into overdrive. I feel more like an animal than I have in my life.
Tears mix with my blood. I scream even louder while trying to fight as the other assailant pulls out a sheathed object. Hewithdraws the knife and I almost wish he had a gun because I want to be dead. I just want this to be over.
Fighting hasn’t worked and my body is both frozen in place and trembling with terror as sweat builds up on my skin and my body makes a last-ditch effort to save my life by releasing its control over my bladder. Warm piss soaks my pants and my legs and my screams are mixed with sobs.
He’s going to stab me…
“Myra Brent,” he says. “This is a message from the Corsini family, to keep your dirty skin away from our people.”
The Corsini Family? I want to argue – to say something, to explain that IknowMichael and Cosima Corsini. But I can’t stop shaking and my throat is too tight to form words. Every ounce of my energy goes to fighting the man pinning me to the wall, immobilizing me to prepare me for slaughter.
I brace myself for the impact of the blade sliding into my soft flesh, the way I used to cut up pieces of chicken for dinner. But he slides it through the fabric instead, cutting my clothes away.
They rip my clothes off while I cry. I don’t know what I expect them to do next. To hurt me. To take from me even more…
While I’m naked, another fist comes flying at my face. I feel the impact. Hear a loud noise. I’m dead.
That’s my last thought — they killed me — before I crumple to the ground in the alley. I feel my hand touch a dirty puddle, but I’m too numb to wince. A boot comes flying at my face — and the lights go out.
Sirens.
I hear sirens.
“I found her.”
Quiet.
