CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Oh, my God,” Alexa whispers and falls to the ground beside me.

My chest shutters and a sob explodes from my mouth and it fills the room.

Vaguely, I hear Alexa speak on the phone, yelling to Joseph to find Kanye and get out of there. She describes the house we are in, but it doesn’t matter. I may as well be left sitting in this same spot until my dying day. Life will never be worth living now.

“What’s that?” Alexa asks.

At her words, I focus my hearing and hear the ringing of a cell phone.

“That’s my guy telling me if he’s finished the job.”

Donovan. I’d forgotten he was even here. His name is hissed in my mind, said with such hate that even I’m terrified for what he is about to go through.

I spring to my feet and go directly to where I hear the ringing coming from. It’s in his pants pockets. I don’t pause for even a second, my hand dives down into his pockets, and I pull out his vibrating phone.

What if Kanye’s still alive? What if he’s just been shot and needs help. My heart races with hope. I swipe the screen and bring the phone to my ear.

I’m meet with heavy breathes, seconds of silence and then, “It’s done.” And then he hangs up.

Dead dial tone. Dead air. Dead Kanye. Dead heart.

Goddamn it, Emmy, will a day come when I can ever say no to you?

I clutch my chest where my breaking heart sits.

I love you, Em. One day, I’m going to a put a ring on your finger instead of a rose on your wrist.

A cry explodes from my lips.

Our life will be filled with smiles. We will be happy Emmy. Even if it fucking kills me, we will be. These are our dark day’s baby, but they won’t last forever.

My heart is begging me to stop, to block whatever is ripping through its just-healed flesh. It’s crying. I’m crying. My soul is dying.

My mind wraps around my memories. Wrapping them up tightly, preparing to protect them. Never forget.

“Emily,” Alexa whispers softly to me, my name escapes her trembling lips.

“Had to be done, Emily. I couldn’t risk you getting away again, and this time it will be better. You will always be with me. No more waiting months to have our time together.”

My body locks up. Indescribable rage sears through me. Not even when men took my body against my will, not even when I heard the screams of my friends while they were being beaten and raped did I feel this surge of madness. Never have I craved death and destruction this much.

I roll my hands into fists and find the cell still in my grasp. I squeeze my hand around it painfully, and then with a violent scream, I peg it at Donovan’s head. It strikes him in the temple and he grunts in pain. Instantly, a gash opens on his temple and blood oozes out.

I spin around recklessly, searching for something else to smash on his head. I need destruction. I need to feel the chaos. Anything is better than this anguish.

Donovan laughs loudly into the room. The laughter is shrill and like nails on a chalkboard to my ears.

I grind my teeth together.

“Is this what I missed in the beginning? Is this how you started out in the collection? Damn, I missed some good times then.”

His insane words barely penetrate my thoughts. My mind is too chaotic. Too many ways to torture and kill are running through my head.

“What’s in your car, Alexa?” I demand.

“Wh-what?” Alexa asks confused.

I spin on her, not in the mood for wasting time and say impatiently, “Tools. Do you have any tools, guns, knives, or a jack hammer? Anything to fucking kill him with,” I hiss and point to Donovan.

Alexa looks to Donovan then back to me and quickly nods. “Yes, I have a tool box in my trunk.” As soon as Alexa finishes her sentence, she’s jogging out of the house and to her car.

“You really think you can kill me? You couldn’t do it before. What makes you think you can do it now?” Donovan asks in a smug voice.

I cringe at his hearing him speak. I can’t tolerate his very existence, let alone hear his damn voice.

I pin him with a glare. “Before, I had something to live for. Before I had a future. Before I had the world at my feet. Now, I’m as good as dead and I’m taking you down with me.” My voice drips with contempt for him.

Donovan pales. My emotionless tone and honest words break through his cocky persona and he finally realizes he is going to die in this room, with me, very soon.

The sound of a clanking toolbox is heard before Alexa walks back into the bare, ugly living room. A room that will be forever branded into my mind.

Alexa heaves it down onto the sofa and opens the lid. She moves back as I move forward to survey what tools she has. It’s full of different types of screwdrivers, wrenches and other tools I don’t even know names for.

I choose a blue screwdriver that’s stained with grease and dirt. It looks old and blunt. Perfect.

I focus on Donovan who’s looking at me with panic and fear on his ugly face. I slap the screw end of the tool into my hand a couple of times, taunting him.

“Where should I stab you first?” I inquire.

“My guys are going to be here any minute, Emily. You fucking stab me again with those or anything else, and I promise you, you will regret it when I have you tied down later,” Donovan hisses at me.

That reminds me. I look back to Alexa. “You should go. Before his men do come back here.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m in this until the end. I should have helped you years ago and I didn’t. This time I’ve got your back.”

Alexa’s words blow me away. She’s guilty. That’s why she’s been helping me. She regrets being a part of Marco’s empire. From what Lily has told me about Alexa, she was badly beaten for trying to help women escape.

I wish I had enough emotion left in me to care and tell her it’s okay, that I forgive her. But I don’t. Rage and revenge rules my direction. Not revenge for my lost five years, that seems so minuscule compared to a lifetime without Kanye.

I’m staring at the devil in the chair who has taken everything away from me.

Never again will I admire Kanye’s bright smile.

Never again will I hear his deep, husky laugh when he thinks I’m being adorable.

I imagine myself at a family barbecue, looking around the crowd of people hoping to see him, but knowing he’s not there.

I see my rose garden in my mind and Kanye is there, standing in the middle, just staring at me.

I was supposed to have my first Christmas with him again this year.

And the one thing I held in my grasp for a mere few hours. A family.

I dash my tears away roughly and wipe those thoughts from my mind.

My mind detaches from my body. The part of myself who doesn’t want to do this, who could never do this to another human being.

I’m looking at Donovan but I’m only now just focusing on him. He’s peering up at me like a wounded animal ready to flee. I step forward and he flinches. I smile. It’s a sadistic, uncaring smile, one that takes great pleasure in his torment. This will probably be the last smile I make in my life. I decide it’s time to get a few things off my chest.

I start speaking and I’m not sure if it’s to Donovan or to myself. But these are words I feel I need to let go of, no matter who they are said to.

“I had moved on with my life. I finally realized all those years of abuse were because you hated yourself. Those name—worthless, used, and pathetic—they were all about you. It’s how you see yourself.”

Donovan narrows his eyes and his face darkens with rage. I’m hitting a nerve.

“I am strong, intelligent, and loved.”

Donovan barks out a laugh, but before he can speak I cut him off.

“That’s why you’ve been obsessed with me all these years.”

His eyes narrow at me, a tremulous wave of emotions flare through his eyes. His expression screams at me to stop talking. It’s as if he’s trying to will my mouth shut.

“You envied me. You saw me surviving through hell and you envied me. You wanted to be me. You wanted to be as strong as me. As intelligent as I am and you are desperate for someone to love you as much as I am loved. But you aren’t me. You aren’t strong. You aren’t dumb, but you’re definitely not smart either, Donovan. And number one, you aren’t loved. You saw everything you wanted in me and you wanted to destroy me the way you had been destroyed. Or were you born like this and just wanted what you’d never had?”

“Fuck you!” he spits the words out in a shout. “You are as weak as I am.”

“No! I was weak but not anymore. I figured you out. You could take my body as many times as you wanted, but we both know who the weak one really was.”

Donovan lets out a laugh; it borders on anger and embarrassment. His laughter turns to high-pitched screams as I take the opportunity to surprise him and plunge the screw driver into his left thigh.

“Ahhh! You bitch! Fuuuck!” Tears flow down his face.

I stand back and leave the screwdriver firmly wedged in his leg.

“What’s wrong, Donovan? You can’t fucking hack it, can you?” His face changes from pained to realization at me saying his awful words back to him.

I pull the screwdriver out swiftly and just as fast, I push it into his other thigh. He screams all over again, but this time it’s accompanied by begging.

“Ahhh! Fuck, please. Please stop! I promise I’ll let you go. Just fucking stop.”

His tears are coming fast and constant. His face contorted in pain and his eyes are clenched closed.

I thought I would enjoy his begging more. But I’d be lying if I said his pleas didn’t affect me even just a little bit. It’s time to finish this. I pull the screwdriver out and Donovan howls in agony. His face is pale and his eyes glass over; he’s passing out.

Alexa gasps and I assume it’s because of the blood now seeping down Donovan’s legs. But then I hear it, the biggest joke God has ever played on me. Kanye’s voice saying my name in my mind. Is this my punishment for taking a life? God plans on torturing me through it as well.

“Emily.”

My world spins and the screwdriver falls from my hand. My blood stops pumping. My pulse unmoving. Then in a flash, I spin around and there he is. Kanye. My heart restarting sends a shock through my body, the current so severe I can’t even get the scream out through my mouth. My body begins to shake, every inch of my skin spikes up with defiance to ward off the breakdown I’m about to have.

He’s alive.

He steps toward me, but it’s not his whispered, “Emmy,” that breaks me, not the smell of his cologne or his blue eyes piercing mine. It’s his touch. As soon as my flesh feels his, I succumb to the heartache, the devastation. I bend my body in on itself feeling all the pain I had just buried deep inside myself. It comes full force.

Kanye wraps me in his arms and we fall to the floor. I endure the spiralling emotions of loss, torment, and now, relief. I lost someone I can’t live without and now he’s here. He’s touching me. He’s alive and I don’t know how to stop the pain and relief from entwining and wreaking havoc through my body.