Page 3 of Inflame Me
Entering the kitchen, I spot my mother’s purse on the counter. “I’m going to get it, so I want you to lean against the chair for a minute.”
My mother nods at my whisper.
I glance at the couch to find he’s gone.
James is gone.
Panic spreads through my veins like wildfire as I search around frantically. I grab my mother’s purse and fling it around my neck. “Back,” I whisper as I meet my mother halfway from the chair she was holding.
“You fucking bitch!” James’s angry growl comes from behind me as he yanks my ponytail and tosses me across the room like I weigh nothing.
As I crash to the tile, the wind momentarily gets knocked out of me. I look up to see him slap my mother across her face before she plummets to the ground in a boneless heap.
“Get up!” he screams at her, kicking her hard in the ribs.
Asshole.
I get up—my whole intimidating five-foot-four self—drop my mom’s bags, and stalk toward them. He senses me coming and turns around, moving lightning fast and striking me across the face. I fly through the air as pain sears my lip and cheek. The metallic taste of blood seeps into my mouth, and I lick it. Luckily, I didn’t hit anything on the way down from his horrible punch.
James begins to really punch and kick my mother as tears stream down her face.
“Leave her alone!” I scream, getting his attention.
“What? She’s a fucking bitch. You, on the other hand, would be nice to have.” As a devilish gleam shines brightly in his eye, I get the feeling he’s not talking about using me as a punching bag.
He lands one more blow to my mother then begins to stalk my way. I look around the kitchen for something, anything to use to make him go away. I have no doubt that, if he gets me down to the floor, it’s going to be over for me, for my mother. There’s no way I can fight off his bulk, but I refuse to give up.
Continuing to scan the room, I move backward as he continues to come toward me.
“Don’t run. This will be fun. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” His smarmy ass actually licks his lips, and bile comes up my throat, burning the back of it. No way in hell.
I eye the knives in their tidy, little, wooden block holder on the counter and make my way toward them, keeping one eye on James.
“Stay away,” I tell him, but it falls on deaf ears. If anything, the words make him happier, like I’m a challenge; and that’s the last thing I want him to think.
I grab the biggest knife out of the holder, placing it in my left hand and a smaller knife in my right.
“Aw, you think you’re gonna hurt me with those?” He flat out laughs, but it’s so sinister it sends chills up my spine. “I can disarm you with those in a second,” he gloats. I know he’s right. He’s trained for this. I, however, am not. Hell, I’ve never held a knife to another human being ever. I’m not sure what in the world I’m doing.
The adrenaline pumps through my veins as I try to steady my shaky hands. If I want me and mother to live through this, I’m going to have to do something, but what?
My hands tremble as I clutch the knives, knowing they are my only lifeline. “Go away, James. Just leave. Get out of here.” I’m wasting my breath, though part of me hopes he will just leave and go away to some other place, disappear like some miracle from above. Tough luck there.
“Fuck no. I’m just getting started.” His steps get closer, his fingers turning into fists.
Without thinking, I throw the smaller knife at him, the blade entering the left side of his chest by his shoulder. He stops, momentarily frozen, as if my throwing the knife at him wasn’t even on his radar.
“You just threw a knife at me, you little cunt,” he growls, not removing the knife. His furious eyes pierce me, almost knocking me back a step. Oh, God … There’s nothing like pissing off a raging bull.
I move the other knife to my right hand, needing more control of it. The adrenaline inside, along with my mother’s safety, fuels me.
With his bulky arms at his side, he comes closer, the menace in his face reminding me of The Hulk. I try not to let the fear show, but I’m pretty sure I’m doing a shitty-ass job of it.
“Stay away,” I say again with a tremble in my voice. Dammit, go away!
“You fucking little bitch. You’re just like your mother. After I’m done fucking the shit out of you, I’m going to kill you right in front of her then beat the fuck out of her some more.”
Burning. I feel like I’m burning. The fear is still there, but fury masks it, pulling me into a red-filled haze. He will not hurt my mother again.
