“I’ll cut you!” he screams
He’ll hurt me either way. If I die, I won’t make it easy.
Bebe can’t reach him because the cart’s in the way. She shoves it aside while I bite into the arm holding me. Creepy Spencer screams at me. He digs the blade into my arm, sending me into a rage.
“Fucker shithead!” I scream, throwing myself back and hitting him in the jaw with my head.
Wearing my heels, I realize I have two weapons strapped to my feet. Creepy Spencer learns the hard way when I stomp down on his ankles. He shoves me face down onto the Cruiser, trying to pin me like in the first attack. I hear him yelp and see Bebe throwing cans of raviolis at him.
Twisting free, I roll back onto the car and pull my knees up. When I kick out, my heels nail him in the ribs. Based on his screams, he’s pissed. He’s also bleeding now, so we’re even at least.
Creepy Spencer backhands Bebe who goes sprawling. As her head slams into a nearby car, I kick out again, shoving Creepy Spencer forward.
Running and leaving Bebe isn’t an option, so I attack. Creepy Spencer is ready for me though. First, his elbow nails me in the forehead then the chin. The world spins, but I kick him in the knee and now he goes falling. On his way down, the knife is knocked out of his grip.
Unable to keep my balance, I topple onto him and we’re back in the position from weeks ago. My keys aren’t at hand, so I grab a can of ravioli sitting by the tire and use it to bash his face.
Creepy Spencer reaches for his blade, but it’s too far away. Instead, he swings wildly, hitting me in the face and clawing at my throat.
“Your mama never loved you!” I scream.
Completely unhinged, I laugh despite the pain and fear. I want to fucking kill him. I need him dead beneath me. I want to watch him choke on his blood. My hand holding the can comes down again and again on his face. He’s filth and everything I ever hated in life. He needs to die.
Creepy Spencer thinks the same about me. I see it in his bulging eyes as he tears at my arms. I hear him calling me names. Whore. Slut. Cunt. Oh, he’s clever with his insults. They’re not as much fun as mine though.
“You were a mistake! Your mama laughed about you! Mocked your loser ass! She hated you! Every day, she wished you were dead!”
I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t really care. I need to win, but Creepy Spencer won’t fucking die. Grabbing my attacking hand, he shoves it back up at me and the can clips my cheek.
Temporarily stunned, I see stars and lose my balance. When he shoves me off him, I slam into the PT Cruiser.
I look at him kneeling over me with that can of raviolis and think about how much the next blow will hurt. Before it comes down, Bebe jumps on his back.
“Motherfucker!” she cries, holding on by his ears.
For the first time, I realize Creepy Spencer has big ass ears just like my real dad. Laughing now, I grab the switchblade and slam it into his leg.
I stab it once then twice. Over and over because I know there’s an artery in the leg that’s important. I saw it in a movie where the guy got shot in the thigh and bled out. I want that to happen to Creepy Spencer. I don’t know where the hell the spot is, so I stab wildly.
The momentum shifts again when he slams my head into the Cruiser and shoves Bebe into another car.
Though I expect Creepy Spencer to remove the blade and use it on me, he crawls away instead and collapses nearby. I still want to kill him, but he’s too far away and my fucking head hurts so bad that I think I might puke.
Once I crawl away to Bebe, we cower next to the Cruiser. I’m relieved to find my phone in one piece in my pocket. Dialing Ford, I hope he knows how to kill the sick motherfucker whimpering feet away from me.
47
Ford
Masks Come Off
Call it fate or God or pure coincidence, but Pax and I are only a few blocks away when I get Shay’s confusing call. Riding with Pax to the grocery store, I never consider I might lose Shay. I tell myself I’m handling a problem. A simple asshole needs to die and my woman just happens to be involved.
The crowd of people standing near the PT Cruiser backs up when we roar into the parking lot. I think I’m ready for anything. My enforcer shield cracks the moment I catch sight of blood on the side of the car. Is Shay hurt? I almost consider her being dead, but refuse to take the thought to its unacceptable end.
Creepy Spencer is on the ground, bleeding and whining quietly. A knife is stuck in his thigh.
“Don’t pull it out, man,” he says when I stand over him. “Bitch hit the femoral artery. If you pull it out, I’ll bleed to death.”
Shay and Bebe cower nearby. They’re bloodied and I see pure terror in Shay’s eyes. I look back at Spencer.
“Good news, man,” I tell him, pulling out the blade. “The bitch missed your artery.”