Page 187 of Under Your Scars
“He didn’t give me a choice!” I take a big step backwards as the dam breaks and the tears fall harder. “Frank was there and tried to kill me and I was scared and had all this adrenaline in me and I just…” My hands grip the sides of my hair and begin to tug as the distress sinks into my bones. “I killed him. I killed him.I killed him.”
“Angel…” Christian croaks as he wraps his arms around me, right as my legs collapse and I fall to the floor in shame and panic. Christian cradles my face in one of his large hands as we settle on the ground. “Baby, I wouldneverjudge you for doing what you needed to do to survive.” He kisses me softly, and the salt from my tears mixes with his taste. “Tell me what happened.”
I jump onto the back of the imposter and do the first thing I can think of. I bite him.I bite him in the curve of his neck so hard I feel the skin rip unnaturally when he throws me off him and I land on my back on the floor with a hard thud.
He lunges for me,anger in his eyes,and I begin clawing at him.It’s not to hurt him,or even to try and stop him.It’s so that when the police find my body,his skin will be under my nails.
My body hurts,my throat burns when I scream in frustration,and my limbs feel heavy with exhaustion.Not even the adrenaline is fighting it anymore.
If I don’t escape now,I’m going to share this tomb with Frank Valenti, and I’ll be damned if he’s who I arrive in Hell with.
I’m kicking and fighting against my captor so hard that I wrestle him to the floor.He lands on his back.I land on top.
The only thing I can think to do is pull the small drawer completely off the track of the dresser and hit him with it.I get one good hit in before he grabs it from me and tosses it away.It lands on Frank’s dead body.
“Stop!” he shouts,and even though he’s wearing a mask,I can tell he’s gritting his teeth.“I’m trying to protect you!”
“Protect me? You shot my husband and then kidnapped me! You’re a fucking psychopath!”
“I need to save you from him!” he shouts,catching my wrists and flipping us over so that I’m flat against the floor.
“I don’t want to be saved!”
That makes the man pause.Sweat from his salt-and-pepper hairline drips onto my face as we both try to catch our breath.
“It’s not a choice I’m leaving up to you anymore,” he replies.It’s cryptic as hell,but the enraged sneer on my face doesn’t falter.My body is tired,my adrenaline gone.
In the brief millisecond between the end of his sentence and his next breath,I rip my wrist free from his grip,grab a shard of glass,and I stab him in the gut.Five times.
He slumps over with agony.I scramble to my feet,my legs shaky with exhaustion.
I don’t know why,but before I leave the room,I pause and turn back to face him.He’s clutching his stomach,his breaths shallow from the pain.
“Ellie, I’m going to save youeven if it’s the last thing I ever get to do. I promise.”
And then he goes limp.
And it hits me that I lied to Frank, because Iama killer.
Christian stares at me with an unknown emotion in silence as I stare at the ground, entranced by the soft blue cotton of my socks.
“Do you remember where he kept you?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know the address, but I could show you on a map. I remember the cross streets.”
Christian nods and hands me his phone. I scroll through the bird’s eye view of Meridian City and zoom in on the area. I hand the phone back, and Christian commits it to memory before putting it away. He takes a deep breath.
“I need to go take care of the bodies.”
“Why?” I ask. He’s never been the type to clean up his messes.
“Because I reported you missing to the police, Elena. One cop even saw you when you got here. If they find two dead bodies covered in your blood, they’re going to start asking questions that you can’t answer.”
“It was self-defense.”
“Yes, but you didn’t go to the police after you escaped. You came here. That already makes you look suspicious, and I’ll be damned if I let them start pointing fingers in your direction.” He tugs me close to his chest and kisses my forehead. “It’s over. Frank is dead. This man that’s been tormenting us is dead. Let me deal with the messy part so we can move on.”
I begin to cry, not because I’m sad, but because I’m overwhelmed. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the reality of murdering someone, even in self-defense. I can’t talk to anyone but Christian, but unlike the last time I was recovering from trauma, I don’t think he can help me.
