Twenty-Six
I needed to get to my phone without Aden noticing, he had run his hands over me but was more interested in my pussy then on checking down my legs. I wasn’t going to make it easy to hurt me or rape me; I might be scared but I’m determined to fight.
Aden looked over at me. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, bitch, but if it’s getting away from me, just fucking forget it. You will do what I say, when I say it, or you will feel my displeasure.” He grinned but it was ugly—he was ugly, a twisted demented man. “I have had ample time to think of ways you will pay for stabbing me. When I’m done with you, and you’re all used up, if you beg me nicely I might kill you quickly. I knew if I gave it enough time you’d do something stupid and I’d get you! That blond bitch helped me too, she hates you as much as I do. She wouldn’t let me fuck her, but she sucked my dick really good. She was right. All I had to do was sit tight and wait. She fed me intel on where you went and how many were following you. You stupid cunt, you had no idea I was right here watching and waiting for you to fuck up.” He cackled gleefully.
When I didn’t respond, he took hold of the seatbelt, pulling it tight across my throat and cutting off my airway. I clawed at the strap, raking my nails down his hand and drawing blood. He cursed and let go, then tried to backhand me, but he was in an awkward position. I blocked him before he could connect with my face, just like Breech had taught me.
“That was your first mistake, you fucking cunt. When this car stops I’m going to beat the fucking shit out of you.” The car sped up as he pushed down harder on the accelerator. His hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel, his eyes were bloodshot, and spit flew from his mouth when he cursed at me. He was skinny and his clothes were wrinkled and dirty. He wasn’t focused; he was expending his energy on his hatred, and I planned to use that to my advantage.
Being calm was the key, and I refused to go down easy. I clenched my trembling hands together, my nails biting into my palm, the slight sting helping me to concentrate.
He had pulled off the highway about ten minutes before. I hadn’t seen any signs or markers to tell me where we were. There were deep culverts on both sides of a two-lane road. The classes I took from Breech said to not let an assailant get you in a deserted location of his choosing because the chances of getting away were slim to none. That meant I had to get out of the car somehow. Up ahead, I could see a four-way stop with a light. There were some houses on both sides of the street with cars parked outside. I needed to distract Aden long enough to get my seatbelt unhooked before we got to the light.
He was starting to slow for the light; it was now or never. I reached around my waist with my right hand, putting my palm over the belt release, and with my other hand I swung at Aden, trying to scratch his eyes or face.
The car swerved when I got my finger in his eye. He hadn’t been prepared for an attack. His foot hit the brake; simultaneously I released the seatbelt them yanked up the parking brake. The car rocked forcefully, and I lunged for the door handle.
In a rage, he turned his face towards me; I hit him in the nose with the palm of my hand as hard as I could, forcing his head to bang against the window, leaving him stunned. My door flew open and I got out, running for the houses I saw up ahead. Reaching down, I grabbed my cell phone, losing precious seconds as I tried to speed dial Jameson.
I could hear footsteps running behind me; they didn’t sound close, but I didn’t turn around; if I did, he’d stand a better chance of catching up to me, I’d been taught. Instead putting on a burst of speed, I tried to get to one of the houses before he caught me. To my left, I heard a dog barking and veered off towards the sound. I could see the dog by the fence, snarling and growling. There was a cellar door that was open in front of the fence; I ran into the cellar, slamming the door behind me. There was a flimsy lock on the door that I flipped.
Frantically, I looked around for something to block the door with. There were two crates full of old junk right by the door; I tried pushing the first one, but it was really heavy and didn’t budge. I heard a thud against the door, then Aden screaming at me, “You fucking bitch! You’re dead, do you fucking hear me? You are fucking dead!”
I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me. I had to use it before it drained me. I pushed the crate as hard as I could. It started to slide, and my forward momentum kept it moving the few feet ‘til it was up against the door. Aden was pounding on the door; it shuddered but the lock held. I went back for the second crate, which was a little lighter. Dragging it over and using all my strength, I got it stacked on top of the first one. The dog was still barking, growling loudly at Aden as he pounded on the door.
I needed to call for help, and that’s when I realized I didn’t have my cell. “Shit.” I must have dropped it when I was running. “Damn it!”
Aden was kicking at the door now, throwing his body weight against it. Behind the jarring force of his boot, I heard the wood crack, rewarding his efforts and discouraging mine. There was a staircase along one wall; I ran to it, bounding up the stairs. The door at the top was locked so I started pounding on it. “Help,” I yelled. “Please, someone help me!”
I put my ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anything. I pounded a few more times, my throat growing sore from yelling, and my fists aching from banging on the solid wood.
I went back down the stairs, searching for a weapon. I saw some tools scattered across a rickety table. There was a rusty box cutter under a couple of old handsaws. Grabbing it, I pushed the button a few times ‘til the blade came loose from the dirty handle.
It didn’t look that sharp, but at least I had something—and maybe the fucker would get tetanus from it. The dog suddenly stopped barking, and so did the banging at the door. It was eerie not knowing where he was or what he was up to; the absence of sound was frightening. I checked the lock; it had held but it didn’t look like it could take much more.
I settled down on the floor under the staircase, trying to compose myself and come up with a plan.
I could do this.
I would do this.
I wouldn’t let Aden win.