Page 85 of Slaughtered Firefly
A creak cut through the silence between my agony. Not from within me but from the world outside my torment. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, descended down the stairs.
I froze.
Blood did not; it kept trailing down my skin, slid past my fingers to the floor. The crimson pool increased with each second wasted.
The scalpel, heavier, taunted and yet encouraged me. A thunderous beat ricocheted around my head, with the pound of boot on wood. An almost rhythmic tune that jarred the stillness. The melody lured me into my next actions, forced my hand.
Down I stabbed. A muffled screech tore through my lungs. A beat later, the shoe descended. I wrenched the blade free—and struck again.
Urged on by the cold steel, I plunged deep.
Another stab. Another breath stolen.
My hands moved before I could stop them — again.
The coldness I had dreaded was trivial as I stared below. The knife clattered; my head dropped. Maroon flowed like truth unspoken—unfiltered, unrestrained, undiluted by time.I’m sorry, Summ–
56
YOU SLAUGHTERED ME
Present day
There shouldn’t have been anyone awake at this hour, but the warehouse was in full swing. Open for business, trades and commissions. Cole stood in the center of crates filled to the brim, personally checking weapons. It was clear that no one knew what had happened earlier. Cole didn’t know that Gabriella was missing, and yet he continued on.
“I fucking hate you!” I screamed. I didn’t really hate him. I loved him. I had loved him every single day since he rescued me from that shed. I yearned for him every time I was away, and when he accepted me for who I was without hesitation, I fell more in love with him. But now I wasn’t so sure; now I was questioning every single action he took. It was all just a game to him, a twisted, sick game, and I was the sore loser. I’d lost everything in life that mattered because of him.
“Leave now,” he ordered the warehouse workers as I walked in through the hangar doors.
“Yes boss,” they chimed, dropping weapons back in the crates and scattering.
“Hello my love, is that dress for me? What happened to your face?” he grinned as he placed the new automatic on the table beside him.God, that smile felt like home. No. Stay angry.
I stepped right up to him, slapping him hard across the face. His tattoos gleamed in sweat against the overhead lights as he laughed. Cole’s hand latched around my arm as he kissed me brutally. His lips aggressively captured mine, fending off the anger I had within me. His hand skimmed down my side towards my center, and I jerked out of his hold.
He looked older than the last time I saw him. We had spent too long away, and I wanted nothing but to fall into his embrace and lose myself within him. But I couldn’t; I wouldn’t allow myself to fall prey to his tricks. I shoved him away, my hand swiped a pistol from the table.
“Go to hell,” I cocked the revolver I had snatched off the table and aimed it towards him as I backed away slowly.
“If the idea is for me to be turned on, you’ve got me there, put the gun down and let me take care of that attitude, maybe you’ll tell me who I need to kill for those bruises?” He stepped closer to me.
“No.” I backed up. I couldn’t let him touch me. I couldn’t let him break my resolve. It was all his fault. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I whispered.
“Why don’t you tell me? Or do you plan to shoot me?” he laughed again, and I screamed in rage.
“She’s fucking missing, you took her from me and … ” the tears ran down my cheeks as I furiously swiped them away. “Gabriella is missing.Mychild is gone.”
His face twitched with the realization, and the smile fell off his lips. “What do you mean she’s missing? She was safe, I just saw her a few days ago. Who did that to your face?”
“They stole her, you were supposed to protect her and you failed!” I shouted as the pistol wavered in my hands.Stop asking about my face. I couldn’t talk about my face. What he had done to it or the rest of my body…
“I’m sorry firefly, that’s not what was supposed to happen.” His voice was even, like a well-sold lie, and he tried to come closer, but I couldn’t let him.
With every advance he made towards me, I retreated. The gun shook in my hands as I backed up. This wasn’t something he could fix with an ‘I’m sorry.’ No. My heart broke, having to deny him the forgiveness he sought, but I couldn’t forgive him. He broke the fragility of our relationship with that single action. He broke our family before it had any chance of starting.
“You don’t even realize what you’ve done, you took me to a slaughterhouse, you cut me open like cattle and you stole my child from me,” It was the first time I admitted it out loud. Thatmy husband took a piece of me I would never get back. That he was the reason for my fractured mind.
“Fire—” his voice was gravelly.
