Page 53 of Drowning

Because I refuse to cower. I refuse to let him win. I'll find a way out of this nightmare even if I die trying...

I have to.

thirty

Bloody Payback

E m e r s o n

Something hard and shockingly cold is slammed against me, causing blinding pain to immediately shoot through my entire body. Waking out of a deep, drug-induced sleep, my eyes fling open, filled with fear, and frantically search the space around me for the cause.

"Wake the fuck up, captive," Damon demands, his voice chilling and deep as he hits me again with the unknown object across my kneecaps.

He hovers over me, a sadistic grin curling on his lips—lips I used to love kissing. Grabbing me by my throat, he pulls me up into a sitting position, proudly showing off an aluminum bat he's got clutched in his other hand. As I get a decent view of the roomI'm in since he has the light on, I notice my belongings in a heap in the corner by the door, my knife gleaming on top of the pile.

I'm in a room with no windows and soundproof padding covering every inch of the walls. But I try not to let it frighten me more than I already am.

"You having fun yet?" He winks, making my entire body cringe.

"Tons," I snicker, trying hard to keep my mouth shut so I don't get hit again. "When are you going to let me shower?"

"You don't need to. I'll be back tonight to give you a bath." He brushes my bloody, sweat-soaked hair out of my face, matting it to my head.

And then he does something I wasn't expecting. He undoes the restraints around my ankles, freeing my legs from the uncomfortable position they've been stuck in. And then he uncuffs my wrists, allowing me to be free for the first time since he took me. I breathe a relieved sigh, holding in the tears that so desperately want to fall. But I don't say a word, in fear that I might unknowingly set him off again.

"Don't get comfortable because after I'm done with you, the cuffs are going back on," Damon laughs, his eyes dark and foreboding.

"Thank you." I force a smile and pretend to be grateful, playing the game in order to survive.

He says nothing as he gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him, but keeping it open a crack which is not like him.

I know I won't be able to make a run for it, especially not knowing the layout of this place or even where I am. I have to play it smart.

Looking at my knife, I gather all the courage I have inside of me, ignore the radiating pain shooting throughout my body, and manage to get off the bed to grab it. Once I have it, I hurry backto the bed, slipping the knife under the pillow so it's close for when I need it.

And then I wait for him to come back, trying to come up with a plan in my head that I hope to fucking God works.

I hear footsteps approaching the door, and I tense up, readying myself for whatever is to come. As the door creaks open, I pretend to be asleep, my heart pounding with anticipation. I can feel Damon's presence in the room, his heavy breathing, and the sound of him moving closer.

"I know you're not fucking sleeping." Suddenly, he grabs my arm and pulls me up forcefully, laughing as he sees the fear in my eyes. But as he moves to restrain me again, I grab his hand and cover it with mine, giving him a look that I know he can't say no to.

"Please, don't put them back on just yet," I beg him, knowing how much he likes it when I do. "I want you to fuck me with my hands free so I can touch you." I gag on the words as they fall from my cracked, bloody lips, but my fake smile never falters.

"You're finally coming around, I see." His lips sweep across mine as he positions himself over my body.

"I think so." Even though I have to fight to lift my arms, and the thought of touching him makes me want to throw up, I reach around his body and rake my nails down his back.

He shudders against me, letting out a low groan with his face buried in the crook of my neck. He pumps his hips, rubbing his cock against the inside of my thighs, not paying attention.

This is it...

Subtly reaching under the pillow with one hand, my other still rubbing his back, I retrieve my knife and grip the handle tightly, trying to prepare myself for what I'm about to do.

You've got this, Emerson.I tell myself.

And while his head is still buried and he's grinding on top of me, I hold the knife steady and plunge the blade deep into the side of his neck.

His eyes widen in surprise as he lifts his head, and for a split second, I see fear flicker through them. "What the fuck did you do?" He roars angrily, looking shocked more than anything.