I was grabbed around the waist, tackled to the floor, his weight on top of me, squishing all the air out of my lungs.
He gripped my wrist, slammed my hand over and over into the floor, bent my fingers back until I had to let go of the knife. He picked it up.
I took in a strangled mouthful of air, clawed at the floor with my free hand, trying uselessly to pull my body away. I shrieked, “Help!”
His hand slapped down over my mouth. I tried to bite the hand but it was pressed too hard and I couldn’t get my teeth onto any skin. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of salt and grease. His other hand was holding my wrists behind my back. I kept kicking out, hearing grunts every time my heels connected with his legs, the blows sending shock waves of pain up my shins.
He leaned down, spoke into my ear. “I’m going to move my hand. If you make one noise or kick me again, I’m shoving this knife into your guts, hear me?”
I whimpered.
He pulled me to my feet, his left arm around my neck, holding me in a headlock. He walked me backward, half carrying me, his arm pressing hard against my windpipe. We were in the kitchen. I glanced around for a weapon, saw the pans drying in the rack, but I couldn’t reach them. I flailed out with my arm, lunging in the direction of the pans. He pulled me back with the arm around my throat, making me gasp for breath. I scratched at his arm, tried to pull it off.
“You move another muscle and I’m slitting your throat.”
I froze. Should I try to fight anyway? I heard a drawer open.
Suddenly his left leg was coming around the front of mine, sweeping my feet out from under me. I fell onto the floor, my bones jarring. I tried to scramble away but a boot stepped hard onto my back and pressed down for a few seconds, crushing. Then he was kneeling on the back of my legs, holding me in place. My arms were wrenched painfully behind me. Sounds of tape unwrapping. He bound my wrists, pinching the skin, making my watch dig in. My shoulders strained, the muscles tearing.
His weight shifted, and the pain in my legs eased as he stood up. He gripped my bound wrists.
“Get to your feet.”
I got to my knees, and he pulled me up the rest of the way.
He wrapped his left arm around my shoulders, holding the knife to my throat with his other hand, pressing the cold blade against my skin.
“We’re going upstairs. If you try anything, I’ll cut your throat.”
I was frantic as we walked up the stairs. If I smashed my head back I might be able to break his nose, but then he’d probably stab me. We were in the hallway now, moving toward the closed bedroom door.
I was almost hyperventilating, my breath getting stuck in my throat, making me choke. Calm down, you have to calm down.
He was going to kill me.
We were at the door. He lowered the hand with the knife, and I heard jingling noises behind me, like he was digging for keys in his pockets.
I only had a second. I smashed my head back, felt a hard thud, blinding pain down my neck. He must have been looking down and I hit the top of his head.
“You stupid bitch!”
He grabbed the back of my hair, slammed my head into the doorjamb, stunning me. I felt my knees give out and hit the floor.
I tried to get onto my feet, but my legs weren’t working right. I collapsed onto my stomach, fighting to stay awake, my vision blurring.
Sounds above my head, a key going into a lock, the door opening.
Hands were gripping my shoulders, dragging me into the room. I was groggy, floating in and out. I tried to focus, told myself to fight, but my body felt sluggish, my legs and arms not working properly.
Rough hands flipped me over, hauled me up to sit with my back leaning against the wall. The room spun, my vision coming in and out for a moment.
“Wake up! You’ve got some questions to answer.”
I focused on Gavin’s face in front of me, my vision clearing, then looked around frantically, getting quick snapshots of images. It was dark—the window seemed to be boarded over, the only light coming from the open doorway.
There was a big bed, and in the middle, a body. I could only make out a figure, saw movement as though someone was struggling to get up. Then I realized whoever was on the bed was tied to the wooden bedpost. The figure stood.
Crystal.
*
She was naked, her hair straggly and matted. Rope was tied around her neck like a collar and leashed to the post. Her face was contorted in fear. She was gagged but not with tape, looked like some sort of fabric, and her hands were tied behind her back. I screamed, the sound shrieking out of me. I tried to get up to run to her but Gavin pushed me down. He grabbed my face, grinding my teeth together.
“Shut the fuck up!”
I couldn’t get my breath, my body heaving with each gasp, snot dripping out of my nose and mixing with the sweat rolling down my face. Crystal looked frantic, pulling on her leash as far as she could. She was down on her knees, shoulders shaking as she cried.