Bellamy

 

I had a warped sense of déjà vu.

I’d been here before, in this moment. It sucked then, and it sucked now. Villains kept finding small windows of time when I was alone and using them to their advantage.

It was really starting to piss me off.

What was it about me that sang, I’m an easy target, and, I can’t defend myself?

My size? My gender? Something on my forehead I couldn’t see when I looked in the mirror? Whatever it was, I was tired of it. I was tired of this.

And…

They were scaring my son.

I froze for a spilt second, which felt like a year-long trip to hell and back, when that man pointed the gun through the glass right at me. But then adrenaline kicked in and so did my will to fight.

“No!” I screamed. “Put the gun down!”

He didn’t listen. Shocker.

But he did angle the nozzle slightly away and pull the trigger. The bullet slammed into the glass, sounding like a Mack truck going through a wall. The window cracked and shattered, then exploded in with the force of the shot.

I screamed again, throwing my arms around my stomach and hunching in on myself around my baby.

The deafening silence that followed was probably due to the ringing in my ears from such earsplitting sounds. I came back to the man kicking in some of the glass that remained and entering the house.

I ran into the kitchen, looking around for anything I could use as a weapon. Realizing I still had the phone in my hand, I rushed around the island, putting it between us, and scrambled to dial 9-1-1.

He stalked toward me, wearing the standard killer uniform of all black. He had a rope tied off around his torso and a clip of some kind dangling from it.

Dear Lord, had he repelled down the side of the house to get onto the balcony?

He lifted the gun and pointed it at me. I picked up a large block of cheese and chucked it at him. He batted it away, so I picked up the steel bowl that went on the mixer and threw that instead. It hit the gun and made a ringing sound, which muffled the man’s curse. The gun fell out of his hand and skittered across the floor.

In the back bedroom, Charlie was going crazy, and in the back of my mind, I prayed to God he didn’t come right through the door.

The attacker and I glanced at the gun at the same moment. I saw the flash of challenge in his eyes. I lunged like I was going for it, and at the very same time, he did, too.

Except I wasn’t going for the gun.

Instead, I closed my fingers around a large chef’s knife I’d been using. I got to it before he did the gun, and I used the two seconds of extra time to leap close and bring the knife down into his shoulder.

He howled and stumbled into the counter, the knife sticking out of his back like this was a horror movie and I was an ass-kicking heroine.

He gripped onto the edge of the sink, trying to keep his balance as sounds of pain vibrated his throat.

I kicked the gun away, and it slid under the refrigerator, out of sight. I went back for the phone I’d dropped on the island, not putting my back to the man at all.

The operator was calling out, so I yelled the address of the house and that there was an intruder.

Angry, the man straightened and reached out to yank the knife right out of his back. He gave a hoarse shout of pain, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to grow even blacker in the area I’d stabbed him.

He glanced between me and the knife, whose blade was coated in blood, and threw it on the ground with a roar.

I screamed and took off toward the stairs, hoping to make it out the front door. I made it to the second step when meaty, sweat-slicked hands grabbed me and lifted.

“Get off of me!” I screamed. “Let go!”

He yanked the knife I was still clutching out of my hand, slicing my palm as he did. Sharp, stinging pain cut into me, but I refused to let it distract me.

I scraped at his arms and kicked him wildly as he towed me back into the kitchen. Thinking fast, I reached up, going for the gaping wound on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he intoned, and the sharp prick of a blade pushed against my stomach.

I nearly swooned with panic. “No!” I shrieked, going slack instantly. “Don’t you hurt him!”

“I will cut that kid right out of you, you bitch.” He snarled, pushing the knife a little harder against me.

I tried to twist away, then cried out in pain. “Ow!” I yelped.

Instantly, I looked down, reaching for my stomach and the small slice he’d made through my shirt and against my skin.

Rage unlike anything I’d ever known before lashed through me. I went slack, giving him every ounce of my weight. It was hard to let my head fall forward, but I did, wanting him to think I’d passed out.

“Fuck,” he spat. “Damn women. My baby, my baby.” He mocked.

My heart was literally tearing its way out of my chest. It hurt so much that I didn’t even breathe. My hands shook so violently I was scared they wouldn’t work when I needed them to.

He dragged me near the sink and laid me on the floor. The urge to curl into a fetal position to protect myself until help arrived called to me, but again, I resisted. The knife that I’d put in his shoulder was lying half under the island, its bloody blade sticking out like a savior.

He straightened with a grunt, and I watched him reach for a towel, the towel my mother gave me, to press against his wound. I felt him move toward me, so I shut my eyes and went slack.

“Killing you is going to be a pleasure.”

He glanced away, and I seized the moment. The blade cut my skin when I grabbed it and went for the handle. Since the man was standing over me, his feet were in perfect range. Using everything in me, I rose onto my knees and plunged the knife down through his boot and into his foot.

His scream was one that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

His back arched, and he buckled. The keening sounds he made echoed into the stainless sink where he fell.

I scrambled back and watched as he tried to lift his foot and come forward.

He couldn’t. I’d pinned him right to the floor.

“That was for my baby, you nasty son of a bitch!” I screamed and lurched up. Wrapping an arm around my middle, I ran forward, fully intending to escape this time.

I almost made it.

My long, flowing hair that Liam loved so much was like a billowing curtain that the man was able to grab and yank me back.

“When that husband of yours comes home tonight, he’s going to find pieces of you scattered all over this kitchen,” he vowed. “But first, perhaps I’ll cut out that kid and lay him on the island like some kind of sick Thanksgiving turkey.”

A sob ripped out of me. Dear God. That was the most heinous thing anyone had ever said!

I kicked him, and he grunted but didn’t let go. The timer on the oven started going off, reminding me the bread was done.

“Looks like dinner’s ready. But you won’t be alive to eat it.”

I tried to lunge off again, but he pulled me back, making it feel like the hair on my head would come out at any second.

Another horrible, grinding sound went off through the kitchen.

I jerked around, the twisting motion causing more pain in my scalp, but I pushed it away. He was standing there maniacally staring down into the sink, in the direction of the noise.

The garbage disposal.

Oh shit, he’d flipped the switch to the disposal.

My eyes widened in pure horror when he palmed the back of my head and shoved my face into the sink. The scent of the disposal rushed up and hit me in the face. The grinding sound of blades against blades made chills break out over my entire body.

Even as I panicked about being somehow cut up by that… death trap, I shoved backward, trying not to put all my weight on the baby as he forced me over the sink.

“No!” I begged. “No…”

He laughed and shoved me closer. My long hair fell over my face and around me, reaching into the sink like dead octopus arms.

“Shall we start with a hand before we move to anything else?”

The hole of the disposal was so close I could almost touch my nose to the rim. In one last desperate attempt, I lifted my foot and stomped down.

Thankfully, I hit my mark, forcing the knife a little bit farther through the man’s foot.

He roared and let go.

I lunged away but then felt pain that threatened to rip my skull in half. “Aghhh!” I screamed and reached around to see what was happening.

My hair!

My hair was caught in the disposal, winding tighter and tighter around the blades! Even as I realized it, I was pulled in, closer and closer to the sink.

The man choked out a laugh because he didn’t even have to hold me anymore. I was trapped.

I tried to run off, to pull my hair free. All I got for it was severe pain. A warm sensation trickled over my head, and I fell against the counter. My head was bleeding.

I grabbed the length of my hair with both hands and tried to take the pressure off my scalp while at the same time backing away from the man as much as I could.

He reached out a bloodied hand and wrapped it around my neck. Bending me backward over the sink, he squeezed, choking me.

I slapped at him, tried prying away his hands, but it was no use. My strength didn’t match his, and my hands were slick with blood from the two cuts I had.

I started to wheeze as my mind scrambled for another way.

I thought of my unborn son, my brand-new husband… After everything, was this how it ended?

After all the fighting I’d done, I was going to die anyway.