Page 6 of Misery
Whoever this isknows.
Knows about the attack.
Knows about what those men tried.
What they would have done if I hadn't had that little pink knife.
If I hadn't fought like a wild animal.
If Emil and Saga hadn't come home.
The knife.
Tiny thing with a ridiculous pink handle.
Saga gave it to me for Christmas as a joke. "Every girl needs something sharp and cute," she'd said.
It saved my life.
One desperate stab into an attacker's hand.
His scream. His blood.
The moment of shock that let me scramble away.
Not far. Not far enough. But enough to survive until help came.
My hands shake so hard I can barely hold the phone.
Another message appears while I'm staring.
I bet you do. I bet you wake up screaming.
I do.
Three times this week.
Saga pretends not to hear through the walls, but I know she does.
And, I know she tells Emil, know they whisper about me when they think I'm asleep.
Poor broken Elfe. When will she get better? When will she be okay?
Never. The answer is fuckingnever.
"You okay?"
I nearly scream and spin to find Oskar in the doorway.
How the fuck did he move so quietly? Six-foot-something of muscle shouldn't move like smoke.
"Gods, you scared me." I press a hand to my heart. Feel it racing. "What are you doing back here?"
"You disappeared, didn’t look right before you did, so," His eyes drop to my phone. Something flickers across his face. Recognition? Rage, but it’s gone before I can identify it. "Someone bothering you?"
"No. Just spam." I shove the phone in my pocket and feel it vibrate again. Don't look. "I need to get back."
He doesn't move, and I can’t help but notice how he fills the doorway completely.
