“What the hell!” he shouted when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He dropped the flashlight and bulb and put his hands to his neck.
Tyra spun the piece of wood in her hand as fast as she could, and the cable on the end of it did what she wanted. It tightened beautifully around his neck. She gritted her teeth and wound the board as hard as she could until there was no more play in the cable. Standing behind him, all she had to do now was hold on until he dropped to the floor, but he wasn't so willing. He bucked and tried to throw her over his shoulder, and when that didn't work, he tried to stamp on her feet. Her strength was running out fast, and he was still struggling. He battered against her, but she held on. In desperation, she gave the wood a third of a turn more. Come on, girl, she muttered, hold on. She let out a cry as she pulled the wood to its breaking point. Suddenly he stopped struggling and began to make a hideous noise. When he slumped to the floor, she told herself to keep the wire tight. He may have been playing dead, but he wasn't.
When she finally let go, she dropped to her knees and picked up the flashlight. She shone it on Sergey and noted that his face was purple. As she was about to stand up, she heard someone on the stairs. She dropped the light and picked up the piece of wood and stood against the wall. When the man came into the room, he saw Sergey on the floor and a flashlight shining into the far corner of the room. Tyra lunged forward and hit him as hard as she could with the piece of wood. There was a sickening crack and a cry.
“Dima?” she asked.
“Yes! Shit, that hurts.”
Good, she thought. “And this is for being an ass,” she said as she hit him again on the upper arm.
“Stop, stop! For heaven’s sake, stop!” He grabbed the wood and pulled her to him. She tried to break free, but he held her against him.
“I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't plan any of this. This was all Sergey's doing.”
“Then how did you know I was here? It's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it? You turning up like this so suddenly?” She landed a blow to his shin with her shoe, but he still held on to her.
“Stop struggling. Mr. Samuels called me and told me you hadn't shown up for work. He was worried about you. Somehow he knew we were friendly, and he wondered if I knew where you were.” She tried to break free again. He put his head to her neck and inhaled her scent. “I have missed you so much. I'm sorry. I know I can't ever make up for it, but please believe me when I say I have fallen in love with you.”
At his words, she relaxed. When she felt liquid dropping onto her face, she put her hand to his head. He was bleeding badly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” she said. “You need help.”
He bent down and picked up the flashlight. He shone it around, trying to get an idea of what had taken place. He saw a wooden chair with just three legs, and when he shone the light at the ceiling, he noticed the cable from the light had been ripped out. There was a groove of broken plaster in the ceiling where someone had yanked the cable from the light fitting all the way to the wall. Upon further inspection, he saw someone had made a noose out of it with a winding mechanism. Gruesome, he thought.
*****
The doctor told Dima that a blow to the head of that intensity warranted a night of observation in the hospital. Dima reluctantly agreed. When they wheeled him out of the treatment room toward a free bed, Tyra stood up walked with them. Once he was in bed, she looked at him. He had a deep gash in his head and a terrifying bruise on his arm.
“Jesus, I'm so sorry for that,” she said. “That looks really painful.”
“Don't worry. I deserved it after what I wanted to do. I was being foolish. It was the stupidest plan I've ever thought of.”
“Yes, it was, and it will take a long time before I can trust you again.” She scowled.
“Are you willing to try? If you want me to beg, I will. Tyra, when you were mad at me, and you left me and wouldn't answer my calls, I realized I can't live without you.”
“I'm carrying your child.”
He looked at her, stunned.
She decided to say something, realizing he was temporarily speechless. “Here is what we'll do. I love you as well. When I was in that cellar, I too realized that I didn't want to be without you. But I am mad as hell with you—madder than I have ever been with anyone.” She reached out and took his hand, mindful not to dislodge the IV. “However, I don't want to miss out on the chance of a happy life with you. I will have our baby, and you and I will be together. But if I hear any more BS about stealing things, I'll kick you out, forever. Agreed?”
He nodded, still speechless. He gestured for her to come closer. When she did, he whispered, “Thank you.”
*****