Page 89 of Monster
Still clutching the gun through my hoodie, I take off down the stairs and toward the trees. It’s probably not the smartest decision, but right now, it seems better than running down the driveway where he could easily see me. At least in the trees, I can hide—I have a chance.
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“Essa!”Vincent's voice rings out around me, albeit quiet, I can still hear it clearly.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He knows I’m gone.
The confidence I have been feeling quickly diminishes and is instantly replaced by fear. Fear, and as much as I hate to admit it, arousal. Because as bad as he hurts me when he’s mad, it’s also the best he ever makes me feel and I crave it. I crave it like I crave my next breath.
The fear coursing through my veins as I jog and dodge around trees and their branches, is so similar to the last time I left—when I shot him. Regret seeps into my pores the further away I get from the house—and him—but there is nothing I can do about it now.
It’s too late. I made the decision to grab the gun and run, and now I have to suck it the fuck up and figure it out. As good as we feel together, and as good as he makes me feel, I know it’s not right.I’mnot right and he sure as hell isn’t right.
We are utterly fucked up and so consumed by one another, there is no way out. That’s why I have to force my way out. I’m harboring too many secrets from him—secrets he deserves to fucking know—but in truth, he can’t, and I won’t tell him. Purely for selfish reasons. I want to keep my baby and the memory of him or her to myself.
If I were to talk about the baby with him, it will feel all too fucking real, and I can’t do that to myself. Merely remembering how fucking hard it was right after I first found out forces me to stop jogging and squeeze my eyes shut to help ease the pain creeping through me.
Losing Holley and then finding out I lost my baby all at the same time was too much and I was so. Fucking. Close. To ending it all, but like every fucking time I have tried, I failed. I’m a failure at doing the one fucking thing that is inevitable in this world—death.
People say death is immense, and why that might be true to some degree is death is the one sure thing in this world, so to be afraid of the immensity of it is a waste of fear. There are far greater things in this life to fear, why waste it on something inevitable?
I rub my hand over my lower stomach as I think about how my baby is somewhere within all of that immensity, merely a blip in the nothingness now—all because of me. Because of one stupid fucking choice I made.
I drag my eyes back open, and they land on a massive tree trunk in front of me. Bright green moss covers most of the tree, but I can see where the bark peeks through and I trace it with my eyes. The brown, jagged pieces stick up in some places, while swirling and twisting around each other in others. The moss seems to want to cover every inch of the tree, but the tree isn’t having it, so its bark protrudes in places to keep the moss off.
I know it’s silly thinking because it’s nature and that’s the way things are in nature, but I can’t help but relate to that. Vincent wants to consume every inch of me and for some fucking reason, I can’t let go. I hold on to the last, most miniscule fucking piece of myself and fight for dear fucking life even though I don’t know why anymore.
I want to let go and let him have me. That is what I want, but I justcan’t.Something is holding me back and it’s confusing the hell out of me. That’s why I’m out here with a fucking gun, running from the one person who still wants my broken, fucked up self—even though he wants to hurt me most of the time. I fucking love the pain and we both know it.
“You really fucking suck at running, baby doll. Haven’t I told you time and time again I will always find you?”
Vincent’s voice slithers across my skin like the deadliest viper and it has every muscle, bone, vein, fucking everything, in my body freezing instantly in fear of being struck. My heart stops beating, and I even stop fucking breathing.
“What did you think you were going to accomplish, baby doll?” Vincent’s hot breath fans across the back of my neck and I didn’t realize until I felt his presence behind me, how fucking cold I am. Goosebumps follow the trail of his breath and I shiver involuntarily.
Vincent chuckles behind me, and I can feel the movement of his body. I find myself leaning backwards, needing to feel him pressed against me. I’m instantly rewarded as he takes a step forward and presses his front to my back. His heat rapidly consumes me, and I almost feel drowsy as the sudden comfort I’m feeling. Comfort I know is false, but damn does it feel so good.
He presses even closer, forcing me to move forward, so I shuffle my feet until my entire front is pressed against the mossy tree—except Vincent doesn’t stop moving. He keeps moving forward, pushing me further into the tree, and the bark begins to dig into my skin.
“Vincent,” I whimper as I feel the bark break skin and pierce me. Still, he continues to press me harder into the tree.
“Vin—” I choke out as I feel my lungs screaming for air. Vincent’s large hand lands on the back of my head, and he shoves my face forward. I cry out as my nose connects with the tree trunk, and I feel the instant warm gush of blood pour out of my nose and down my lips. I try to bring my hands up to pinch my nose to help stop the bleeding, but I can’t move an inch.
He shoves my face back into the tree and tears prick my eyes as the bark digs into every inch of my skin—even through my hoodie and jeans.
“You fucked up, baby doll,” he whispers in my ear, and I shudder as he runs his tongue along what I assume to be one of my many scars. “You wanna know how I know?” His tongue is replaced by his teeth, and I suck in a breath. I know what he is going to do next. His teeth sink into my flesh, and I scream.
My head begins to swim when he doesn’t let go of my flesh, and a cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. His hand wraps around my throat from the right and he squeezes—hard. My already battered lungs scream for oxygen, and I start to panic even though I know that’s the worst thing to do.
Through the blood running down my face and over my barely parted lips, I suck in as many shallow breaths as I can, but if anything, it only makes me feel weaker, dizzier.
“I saw your medical records…” he purrs against my skin, and my body tries to fall for the false sense of security his tone is trying to convey. A monster out to play knows how to trick his victims and fuck me if I don’t fall for it. My body instinctively goes lax at his calming tone, and I immediately realize my mistake.
I feel a cold, familiar metal press to the middle of my throat, directly under my chin and the sense of dread washing over me is like being doused in ice cold water after a scorching hot shower.
“You killed my baby—if it was evenmybaby.” His words harbor as much anger and hatred any words could ever hold and one would think that would terrify me, but the only thing I can think about is who else’s baby would it be?
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