Page 7 of Twisted Salvation
I immediately respond and pull myself up, fixing my pants. I see now that he used a condom because there’s blood on it. He pulls it off and drops it to the floor in front of me. I hesitantly lean down to pick it up, but just as I thought he would, Leon brings his knee up and hits me. I cry out in pain as I stumble back, blood pouring from my nose again. It wasn’t a direct hit, so I think I narrowlyescaped a broken bone, but it’s about to be severely bruised, if I live that long.
Leon grabs me by the throat and pulls me close. Rage is burning in his eyes as he talks. “You are fucking worthless. If you think for a second that any man would ever want you, you’re more of a fucking idiot than I thought,” he snarls. “Do you think I like getting angry at you? Huh? You think I like to be stressed out all the goddamn time? You’re too much like your goddamn mother, and in the end, you’ll die, just like she did.”
“I’m sorry,” I say through more broken tears. “I didn’t cheat. I swear to God, Leon. I didn’t cheat.”
“Stop lying!” he screams, tightening his grip on my throat. I claw at his hands when I’m unable to breathe, but he doesn’t let go. I start panicking and hit his chest, trying to get much-needed oxygen back into my lungs. He abruptly releases me, shoving me toward the hallway. “Bathroom. Now.”
I am so confused, but I comply. When I get there, he simply points to the bathtub. I don’t know what’s going on until he grabs my makeup bag. “Leon, please…”
“Get in the tub!” he screams, spit flying out of his mouth. His face is beet red as the whiskey settles into his brain. I flinch when he rears back, and I immediately do as he says. I get into the bathtub, and he comes over with one of my razors.
“Leon. Please don’t do this,” I say tearfully. “Please.”
“It’s so tragic that you took your own life, Myra. You were such a wonderful woman with a bright future,” he says as he snatches my arm and digs the blade into my wrist. I scream as he presses deep and tears through my flesh. Blood pours out, and he grabs my other wrist. “You were loved by so many people.”
“Please,” I whimper. I scream again when he slices through my arm, not going as deep on this cut.
“Fucking worthless,” he says before spitting on me. My breath is coming in short bursts, and my heart is pounding now. The panic has turned into a daze. Fear is melting away as blood pours from my arms. He tosses the blade in the tub with me before simply locking the door and walking out, making it seem as though I locked myself in here.
Dominic.
I need Dominic.
He will help me.
He’s all I’ve got.
He will know I didn’t do this.
He has to know.
I don’t want to die.
I don’t think I ever did.
I just wanted to stop hurting.
I wanted peace, but not like this.
This peace is tainted with evil by demons that want to watch me burn.
I need to slow the bleeding.
What do I do?
Pressure.
That’s what I need to do.
I pull myself up with the arm that isn’t cut as deeply and stumble out of the tub, immediately falling to my knees. Blood pools on the clean white tile, and all I want to do is give up. I can’t, though. I promised Dominic that I’d call him if I needed him, and I need him. I don’t care if he locks me away; at least Leon won’t be able to get to me there, and I would be far away from my father. I could finally find peace and learn to love myself. Slowly, I manage to get to the dirty clothes hamper, knocking it over, and getting a shirt out. I wrap it around the wrist that is bleeding the most and tie it as tightly as I possibly can. I bite my lip and whimper, trying to keep myself from screaming again. I do the same to the other wrist before I get my phone out of my bra, but I’m so weak. I bring myself down to the floor to keep myself from falling. I slowly navigate to his contact and hit the button that shares my location with him. Within seconds, my phone vibrates in my hand silently as he calls me.
“Dom,” I whimper quietly.
“I’m coming, okay? I’m on my way. What happened?” he says, trying his best to suppress his panic.
“A c-cop came to the house. A f-friend told him,” I mutter.
“Myra. What’s wrong? What did he do, sweetie?” he asks, hearing how weak I am.
