Page 97 of Pomegranate Seeds

One of my very romantic playlists was playing from my earbuds. And then the song ended for the next song to start. At that point, I heard a noise behind me that was mostly drained by the earbuds. Instinctively, I was about to turn my head to look behind me, to the road.

But I couldn’t.

Because at that moment, pain radiated to my scalp. Something pulled my long ponytail back, and before I could even think about reaching behind me, I was pulled to the floor. My back hit the earth with a thud, and one of my earbuds fell off my ear.

“What the fuck?” I said again, almost with an instinct.

Now I was able to see the source of the voice. It was a big man. He was not as big as my husband, but he was big for me to deal with. His eyes were so dark that there was no doubt he was high on something.

My lungs, my veins, every part of me filled with fear. I was away from the house. Everyone was sleeping, and this man just put me on my back.

And then something even worse happened. The moment I started screaming hopelessly, he actually attacked me. He jumped on me, straddling my waist, and punched me in the face. “Mazzoni whore.”

My other earbud fell off with the effect of the punch. My eyes burned, and my face hurt so fucking much. Getting punched in the face was more horrible than I could ever think of.

I had no self-defense training. If I had a gun, I could take him, but the rest I have never bothered.

I had no idea how I could get free as this man started beating me. I only threw my hands into the air. I tried to reach his face. Maybe I could just punch him back, or maybe I could push into his nostrils or his eye sockets. Those were the best things I could think of. I was also trashing as best as I could under him, but his weight was horrible. It felt like having a dead animal over me.

“Let me go,” I screamed, trying to get free.

The guy captured my hands so easily and held them with one hand. Now all I could do was kick the empty air. He laughed at my hopeless moves. “You are going to die, you fucking bitch,” he hissed, and my eyes burned even more.

Then he took a knife from his pocket.

Fuck he was really going to kill me.

He didn’t put it to my throat right away, though. He held me there like a sacrifice and then cut my arm, making me scream. “I thought about fucking your corpse, but maybe I should do that before I kill you. You sound so sexy.”

My stomach turned upside down. I just wanted to cry. All of my efforts were doing nothing to him. He was so much bigger and stronger than me.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to die with my dignity, but then he put a little cut over my ribs, and it hurt like hell. I could not stop my screams.

When he cut my cheek, I was full-on crying. I was almost ready to beg him to spare me.

But before I could, his knife came to my throat. I closed my eyes as he pressed the cold, sharp metal to my skin. “I hope you will learn not to break your promises,” he murmured. I was not ready to die, yet I knew I was going to. I knew he had no intention of sparing me.

But then he did. The knife moved away from my neck, leaving a shallow cut behind, and the guy atop of me cursed. There was only one other sound than his grunts. Barking.

I opened my eyes and saw Apollo biting off the guy’s arm that was holding the knife. The knife was on the ground. Apollo showed his beasty face to the guy, and he was trying to fight back without leaving his spot on my waist. “Fucking mutt,” the guy cursed and screamed as Apollo bit down his shoulder.

For the first time, he showed the side everybody was afraid of. He showed the side that made Antonio worry. He showed it to protect me.

I felt so many things at once. As the guy hit Apollo back, I felt fear for my puppy, and I also felt relief because I was not dead. I wanted to get away. I wanted to run back to the house.

I reached for the knife the guy dropped. I held it and swung it at him with a scream.

Screaming was a bad idea because even though I made a small cut on his chest, he grabbed my arm. He punched my doggy with his other hand and then took the knife away from me. This time I again reached with my hands and kicked the air. I tried to protect myself from that knife.

“Fucking bitch,” he cursed again and held my hair with his hand, probably to hold me still while using the knife. I trashed hard to get out of his hold. My ponytail was loose at this point. He got angry and hit my head to the ground.

I tried to fight back, but he didn’t stop. He kept hitting my head to the ground, shouting, “Die.”

Again.

And again.

And again.

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