Page 85 of His To Erase
He rears back with a snarl, hand flying to the cut. The second of shock is all I need—I shove him off with everything I have. My knife falls to the ground, skidding across gravel, too far to reach.
“You fucking bitch!” He roars, yanking my arm and slamming me into the wall at a twisted angle—hard enough to make the joint tear free with a sickening pop.
Pain cracks through my shoulder like a gunshot and I don’t even hear the scream—it’s already lodged in my throat, splintering into a gasp that doesn’t make it all the way out.
White-hot fire tears through my shoulder like my body’s trying to rip itself in half.Fuck that hurts.
My arm dangles at my side, limp and wrong, as I try to breathe. Every inhale feels like there’s glass in my ribs, and the only thing louder than the pain is the voice screaming inside my head.
I need to move but my body doesn’t listen. His hand fists in my hair ripping my head up and my spine screams, but I don’t make a sound.
“What I have planned is nothing. You’ll wish for me, though, when he has you.”
My stomach flips.He?
“Didn’t say what shape you had to be in though.”
The metallic click of his belt makes the world go still.
No no no—my good hand fumbles around, hoping for anything sharp, anything at all.
“You should’ve behaved,” he growls, pinning me down. “I was going to make it quick. But now? I’m gonna make sure you remember me.”
I see a flash in the dark, glinting once before pain explodes through my body. A tearing, blinding heat rips through my side—just beneath my ribs—and the breath flies out of me like I’ve been punched by lightning.
My mouth opens around a scream, but nothing comes. Just a raw, choked sound as the pain sears up my spine and makes the world tilt. For a second, I don’t even understand. I’m just… burning.
Slick warmth spills down my hip. Wet and hot. I look down and see the knife.
He fucking stabbed me.
The ground tilts sideways as I stumble, my hand flies to my side like I can hold myself together with pressure alone. The shock is worse.
The sick bastard grins like it was foreplay as he leans in, and his breath—sour and rotted—grazes my cheek. “You should’ve been a good girl.”
My hand scrambles to my side, slick with blood and panic, while my fingers fumble through shredded fabric, searching—until I feel it. Still lodged there.
I wrap my hand around the handle, gripping it tight and yank.
Pain detonates behind my ribs, and the scream tears out of me this time, but I don’t stop. I drive the blade straight into his thigh, right above the knee and he howls, staggering.
His grip on me slips just enough, and for a second—a tiny, gasping second—I think I’ve won.
I don’t see his boot coming before it collides with my ribs. All the air leaves my lungs in a strangled burst as I slam back against the ground. Stars explode behind my eyes, and something cracks deep in my chest and I can’t tell if it’s bone or just the last thread of hope I had left.
Everything hurts.
I can see the knife’s still in his leg, and there’s blood all over the pavement. My vision blurs, but I need to get up or I’m going to die here in the dark.
“Hey!”
That voice.
That fucking voice.
It crashes into me like the first breath after drowning. Familiar and furious. The man above me freezes. I see it in his eyes—the flicker of fear. Then a shadow barrels into him from the side, all force and vengeance.
He staggers, trying to recover. But he’s already swinging again, fists landing with sickening, wet sounds—rage given form.
