Page 26 of Big Easy
"I'm not leaving without you, Sutton. Don't you see? We can finally be together." Peter takes another step in my direction.
"You're crazy." My breath hitches and there is no denying the terror in my voice.
"I am not crazy!" he yells, spittle flying from his mouth. "Why does everyone keep telling me I'm crazy?" Peter's eyes fill with rage.
Just then, my eyes catch sight of a flash of light coming from under the coffee table. It's Maci's cell. The screen lights up with an incoming text.What the hell. Why is Maci's phone on the floor?Suddenly, a heavy ball of dread settles in the pit of my stomach.Oh, God, what has this man done with my friend?My gaze flicks over to the sofa and that's when I notice Maci's purse laying open on the floor with some of its contents spilling out. Knowing I need to keep my cool, I turn my full attention back to Peter.
"Peter." I place my arms out in front of me and try to talk soothingly. "Look. Maybe I gave you the wrong idea. That's my fault, okay. I was just trying to be nice to you. Why don't we go for that coffee now and talk about it?" If I can get Peter to agree to leave the apartment with me, then I have a chance of getting away.
I continue, "Remember you mentioned taking me to a coffee shop you like? We can go there."
Peter nods. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go there. See! I knew I could get you to go out with me. I just had to get you alone and away from that biker." Peter's tone turns serious. "That man is bad. He is no good for you, Sutton."
I nod. "You're right, Peter. I see that now. I'm just going to get my purse, so we can go." On shaky legs, I back out of the living room and down the hall to my bedroom. When I step in, I waste no time rummaging through my purse for my phone. Just as I am about to dial 911, Peter's voice rings out behind me.
"What are you doing? Give me that," he demands, his face turning red as he lunges for the phone. Sidestepping him, I run out of the room and down the hall. I don't make it far before I am tackled from behind. We fall to the floor with him on top of me, and the phone is knocked from my hand. "Get off of me!" I scream as I struggle against his hold, but his weight is too much for me.
"Stop fighting me. I don't want to have to hurt you, Sutton," Peter grunts. His face is red, and the stench of his breath makes me want to gag.
"Help! Somebody help!" I scream once again at the top of my lungs.
"Shut up!" Peter raises his hand, then lands a substantial blow to the left side of my face, causing an explosion of pain. The punch does nothing to stop me from trying to break free, though. My adrenalin has me kicking into high gear. Using all the strength I can muster, I bring the palm of my hand upward toward Peter's face and jab him as hard as I can in the nose. The moment my palm makes contact, there is a sickening crunch, followed by blood gushing down his face. Roaring out in pain, Peter falls back to the floor, clutching his hand over his face. Using this opportunity, I crawl on my hands and knees away from him and toward my phone. When I feel a vise-like grip take hold of my ankle, I use my other foot to kick Peter in the shoulder, causing him to release me once again. Instead of going for my phone, I grab the lamp off the table beside the sofa, bringing it crashing across his back.
"Fuck," he spits, blood spittle flying from his mouth.
Turning, I make it two steps before I am propelled backward by the hair on my head, and I go stumbling into the stool at the kitchen island. I cry out in pain when my ankle twists in an awkward position, then fall to my knees.
"It didn't have to be this way." Peter stands over me, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Looking up at the madman in front of me, I catch sight of something in his hand…a gun. And just as I go to open my mouth and scream, he brings the butt of the weapon down across my temple, causing the world around me to go black.
I wake feeling confused and sporting the worst headache I have ever experienced. It takes me a moment for my senses to come rushing back to me, and to realize that I am not waking up from a nightmare. That Peter really did break into my apartment and attack me.
Bracing my palm against the floor, I slowly sit up and wince at the pain in my head. Blinking a few times, I try to clear my brain and take in my surroundings. Looking around the room, the first thing I notice is it looks like mine and Maci's living room, only it's empty. There is no furniture. The only thing here is a sleeping bag, and the floor is littered with empty takeout cartons and soda cans. In fact, the more I look around, the more I realize this place is exactly like my apartment. Same layout, same carpet, even the kitchen is the same.
The sound of water running snaps me out of my daze. It only takes me a moment to realize this is my chance to escape. Ignoring the piercing pain radiating from my ankle up to my leg, I climb to my feet and limp as fast as I can toward the front door and begin fumbling with the locks. What the hell is this? It's locked on the inside! I can't get out this way.
Out of nowhere, I am lifted off my feet as Peter bear hugs me from behind. "Let me go!" I start kicking and thrashing.
"Stop fighting me," Peter hisses. And when I feel the cold barrel of a gun against my temple, I do as he says.
"Sit," he orders once I'm back on my feet.
"Peter, please. This has gone too far. Let me go, and we can forget it ever happened."
"No. You're staying with me. I just need a little time to figure out my next move. And when I do, I'm taking you with me. This is how it's supposed to be. I saw you first. If I let you go, you'll go back to that biker trash. But I saw you first. We just need some time for you to understand that we are meant to be together. I even moved into this apartment, so I could be closer to you."
"Peter, that's…" I go to speak only to have him cut me off in a rage as he points the gun at me.
"Shut up!" Peter gets a wild look in his eyes. "Don't you fucking say it! I'm not crazy. I am sick and tired of hearing people tell me that. Peter, you're crazy. Peter, you need help."
"Please." I hold up my hands. "I'm sorry, okay. I won't repeat it. Just put the gun down," I plead.
Peter lowers his gun and then rushes me. I stumble backward, my back hitting the wall. "I don't want to hurt you, Sutton, but I'll be forced to do so if you keep trying to get away from me."
I try not to gag at the stench of his hot, rancid breath as he spits his crazy talk in my face. The man is clearly unhinged, and at this point, I have no choice but to play along. "You… You're right, Peter. I'm sorry. I'll be good."
A smile that sends shivers down my spine spreads across his face. "You'll see things my way soon enough, Sutton. Just as soon as I get you away from this place."
I fight back the bile rising in my throat. "I'll go with you, Peter, but first, I need to know where Maci is."
