Brittany scrambled to her feet, searching for a weapon, an escape. Something to save her and her baby’s lives. Karl advanced toward her, blocking the pathway between the foot of the bed and the bureau. Backing away, she dived for the bed, her goal to roll to the other side and reach the door.
The loud, old-fashioned ring she’d chosen for her cell phone split the air but if she backtracked to answer it, he’d catch her for sure.
Reaching the other side of the bed, she stumbled forward, awkward with pregnancy. Just a few feet and she’d been in the hallway. If she made it to the living room, she could grab a vase and knock Karl out.
But he reached her with lightning speed, one arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her back. She screamed as her phone rang again. He covered her mouth and nose with his other hand.
“I’ll smother you and then fuck you instead of fucking you and then smothering you, you deceitful little whore.”
Karl pushed his hand harder against her, blocking her airway, his arm painful against her womb.
She struggled against his vicious hold and gasped in drafts of air when he slammed her to the bed. She twisted out of his reach and he landed beside her instead of on her, which, she knew had been his goal. Stretching her arm, she managed to reach her cell phone. Karl had a handful of her hair, forcing her onto her back, the other hand already forcing her legs apart.
She slammed her phone against his head but it was small and Karl was a madman. His mouth covered hers and the urge to retch rose in her. He forced her lips open, shoved his tongue into her mouth. Screaming against his mouth, she bit down, the taste of blood filling her senses. He groaned in pain, wrenching her head back, fury in his eyes. He forced her into a sitting position and backhanded her.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried.
He struck her again and stars danced in front of Brittany’s eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Whore!” he snarled, shaking her then slamming her to the bed and shoving her nightgown above her waist. “You let Trey fuck his baby into you. I told you before you were mine. You deceitful, lying little bitch.”
“I’m yours.” Her vision blurred and a warm stream of blood leaked from her nose. “I’ve always been yours.” Breathing hard, she grasped at consciousness, attempting to form words to appease Karl.
He shoved his fingers into her and she screamed, the pain traveling from the center of her body and spreading in every direction.
Next to her the phone started ringing again. She grabbed it and flipped it open, not caring if it was a wrong number as long as someone helped her.
“Please!” she screamed, struggling to twist from Karl’s cruel fingers. She didn’t know if anyone was on the other end of the phone or not. “Help me!”
Karl snatched the phone from her and pitched it to the floor the rolled onto her and pressed his erection against her belly.
Her baby, Trey’s daughter, lay unmoving inside her. “The baby. Don’t hurt the baby.”
He backhanded her again. “Fuck the baby. I’m going to fuck Trey’s baby right out of you.”
He ripped open her cotton nightgown and balled his hand into a fist. Brittany threw her arms around her waist. He punched her, hitting her hand instead of landing a direct blow to her stomach, and she moaned, hearing the snapping bones.
Karl was trying to force her arms down and away from her belly but she held on with tenacity, not sure where she hurt more, only knowing if she moved her arms, Karl would make sure her baby died.
“Fuck you, you little bitch!” he snarled, shoving her off the bed.
Unprepared, Brittany flailed her arms and legs and landed facedown, forgetting to protect her belly as she fought to stop her fall.
“I should’ve killed you four years ago. Whore! Trey’s whore!” he shouted, his hands in her hair again, pulling her to her feet. “You know I loved you. When we made love, you swore you loved me too!” Sobs punctuated his words and saliva flew from his mouth to land on her shoulders and face. “I let you live because you said you loved me. You promised to cherish me. Me! You’re nothing but a faithless whore.”
He kicked her against the bureau and Brittany slapped her cheek against the hard wood, Trey’s bottle of cologne falling against whatever else was there. Her stomach was twisting and turning, hard pains tightening her womb. She crawled to her feet, and, with her good hand, grabbed Trey’s cologne and smashed the bottle against the bureau. Liquid flew in all directions, burning through the cuts in her hand. The spicy scent overwhelmed her and stung her eyes. Shards of glass embedded themselves in her hand but she picked up a large pointed piece.
When Karl grabbed her again, she shoved against him, slashing at him in a blind fury.
Sticky warmth gushed over her hand and Karl screamed, freeing her. Grasping a knob on the bureau drawer, she inched to her feet.
Still on the floor, Karl drew the glass from his cheek. Brittany stumbled forward.
His hand wrapped around her ankle and jerked her down. He pushed the remnants of her nightgown above her waist and dug his fingers into her hips, shoving his exposed erection against her backside.
“You’re a dead little whore,” he growled and jabbed the same piece of glass she’d used against him into her shoulder.
✽ ✽ ✽
Trey swore Brittany’s screams would haunt him for the rest of his life.
One of them, Bryson or Mitchell, pulled the phone out of his hands and put it on speakerphone. Somehow, sanity returned and he started at a dead run, grabbing his radio and barking out his address. Somewhere, through his fog, he recalled Mitchell had already ordered units to the apartment.
He made it to the hallway, Brittany’s screams, over his speakerphone, punctuating the air. The precinct went into an uproar. She was his wife, a police officer’s young and pregnant wife, and she was fighting for her life.
Karl was a dead man. Trey swore before his cousin died, he’d torture him.
Mitchell was saying something, shouting orders, calling for a tactical unit, CSU, an ambulance—and homicide.
Of course, Mitchell would call for homicide. By the time anyone reached Brittany she’d be dead. Karl was going to murder her and their daughter. Trey was running down the stairwell, not sure how he’d arrived there, unconsciously eschewing the slow elevator.
He didn’t have his phone, but he still heard Brittany’s voice. He heard the sound of flesh against flesh with the licks Karl was giving her. Trey found himself outside, rain pelting his head and his face, soaking through his shirt. Sirens were blaring and tires were screeching.
He was shoved into the back of a patrol car, Bryson being pushed into the car propelling Trey’s body sideways, before their door was closed. Mitchell slid into the front passenger seat and slammed the door shut. A patrolman rushed into the driver’s side.
“Move this motherfucker!” Mitchell yelled.
The unit jerked forward and, then, a heartbeat later, Karl’s voice reached him again. “You’re a dead little whore.” Then, Brittany screamed again, her cry filled with pain and terror. Trey clicked the phone off, unable to bear anymore.