Page 5 of Fortress of the Cursed

I believed him when he told me all those times how sorry he was, how it wouldn’t happen again, how it was work stressing him out or some other excuse.

And when he was tender, he really was.

I always made excuses for him; he’d had a rough childhood and suffered a lot of trauma, so that’s why he can’t communicate well and has anger issues.

It’s not his fault. I balk at that now.

Our problems only got worse when we moved in together. He got laid off from his construction job. Instead of looking for another job, he would sit at home all day, wallowing and playing video games. He started hanging out with some guys who weren’t his regular friends, the drinking got heavier, and then I found the drugs and things became heated when I confronted him about it.

As I wait for Fynn anxiously, I try not to recall all the awful things Cam screamed at me while he kicked me in the ribs after I tried to get away.

I truly thought he was going to kill me.

Living in fear like this is not something I ever dreamed I would be doing.

I was brought up in a middle-class family. I did well in school, I excelled as a senior and decided long ago what I wanted to do for a living. I wanted to help people.

Save people. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.

As I sit in pain, my entire body throbbing, and my heart hammering in my chest, I wonder if I’m ever going to get that chance.

Has he broken me for good?

I don’t have the emotional or physical strength to even go there right now. I don’t have the ability to think anymore. I sink down lower, my eyelids closing, exhaustion depleting me, forcing me into unconsciousness.

The dark cloud takes me under, until I feel no pain.

* * *

Hearing movement, I jolt awake. I reach for my handgun, flipping off the safety, and I point.

“I’ll shoot!” My voice sounds as shaky as my hands feel, as my finger hovers over the trigger.

Pain rushes up my neck, right up to the back of my skull, and I suddenly feel light-headed once more.

“Sage. It’s me, Fynn…” he whisper-shouts, holding up his hands as he approaches. “Put that fucking thing down.”

I lower the gun, my heart accelerating, as I put the safety back on and he swiftly takes it out of my hands.

I look up at him in the darkness.

I don’t know how he got in here, but he’s here. That’s all that matters as I find his eyes.

Fynn and I were childhood sweethearts, until I got knocked up. We took precautions but, clearly, they didn’t work. And we were scared, really scared, both only eighteen and barely out of high school. Teenage parents. We planned on keeping the baby and we worked out what we would tell my parents and his mom… until I miscarried… sometimes I wonder what might have been. I often wonder if he does too. Slowly, we drifted apart, but remained friends. He’s still the only man I trust to this day, aside from my dad.

A flashlight appears from behind him because the entire house is in darkness.

Fynn crouches over me as I burst into tears.

Thank God he’s here.

He stares at me, his hand moving to my face as I wince.

“What the fuck did that asshole do to you?”

It must look as bad as it feels. His hand barely touches my skin, and he stares at me like he can’t believe it’s actually me.

The figure behind him, who I realize must be Angelo, curses as he gets closer.

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