Fear assaulted me.
My pulse started to thunder out of control.
All I wanted was for my defense mechanism to kick in.
My heart beat wildly as I figured out what I had to do.
The phone fell to the ground when I raised my arms to attack. But we weren’t standing, and he had an advantage. As a result, my movements were jagged, not coordinated like they should have been. When I reached back to tear his eyes out, pull his hair, cause any bodily injury I could, he pressed something sharp against my face—a knife. “Don’t move,” he said through gritted teeth.
I knew better, but I tried to knock the knife from his hand by jabbing my elbow upward. His response was immediate and he pressed the blade harder. Along with pain, I felt warmth tricking down my face. He’d cut my cheek. How bad, I had no idea. Tears leaked from my eyes.
Then, in a rage, I went a little crazy. My hands going to my cheek, to the roof of the car, reaching behind me. My wild actions were enough to knock the knife from his grip, but in response he started to strangle me. I wasn’t going to be able to get away from him. All my training, all the strength I thought I possessed, and I wasn’t going to be able to fight him off.
“Elle?” I could hear Logan’s frantic voice.
My attacker’s hand was no longer on my mouth and I screamed, “Help! Help!”
In an instant he was covering my mouth again, this time with something thick and cottony. It smelled sweet and I immediately began to feel nauseous.
Moments later, his mouth was at my ear and I could smell the foul scent of his breath permeating my membranes even through the chemical scent. “‘They said to him, teacher this woman has been caught in adultery, in the very act. Now in the law Moses commanded us to stone such women; what then do you say?’”
My sounds, although muffled, had to convey my fear.
“You’re much stronger than your sister. I thought you weaker. I thought I’d only have to hold on to you for a day or so. That all I had to do was convince you of the value of monogamy. I didn’t realize you were snooping into affairs that have nothing to do with you.”
I shook my head no.
He tsked. “Don’t lie. He hath punishments for those who dare do so.”
Again, I shook my head.
“I overheard your phone call. I know that you were looking around at things that are none of your business,” he said in a whisper.
I tried to deny it, but nothing came out.
He removed the cloth from my mouth. “What do you know?”
“Nothing. I swear. The only thing I care about is Clementine.”
The cotton was back in my mouth.
This time my gag reflex was triggered and I tried to push air from my mouth. I didn’t like the sound of his voice at all. It was disguised in some way. It was familiar yet not. It was like he was deliberately trying to change it.
“You’re the one who’s been calling me,” I tried to say.
Just then, everything around me became hazy. He let go of his hold on me. I wanted to open the door and run, but it was too dark. I couldn’t see anything. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car seemed to be amplified and I felt like I was drowning, like I was lying on the sidewalk and the water was rushing over me.
I wasn’t breathing. I gasped and sucked in a breath. Air. I needed air. The window. Could I open it? I tried to find the button on the door, but my fingers wouldn’t move that far. The horn, what about the horn? I should pound my fists against the horn. But my body was sluggish and by the time I placed my hands on the center of the steering wheel and pressed, no sound came out. Wait, I wasn’t pressing; I couldn’t.
My limp body was like a puppet and he was tugging the strings. I could feel what he was doing, but I couldn’t fight it. He pulled at my coat, took my arm out of it, and then he tore my top. I heard the sound of buttons popping and a cool draft hit my shoulder. I heard the familiar sound of a wrapper being torn, the flick, flick of nails against plastic, and then smelled the all-too-familiar scent of Band-Aids.
It was the nightmare of my mother’s diabetes all over again, except I wasn’t diabetic and he was going to give me insulin.
In a hopeless attempt, I tried to move away. I couldn’t.
The needle plunged into my arm. It felt cool as the liquid swooshed through my veins, and then in the next moment I felt like I was falling. Falling into a deep, dark hole.
My father’s face flashed before me. “You’re so weak!” he yelled.
And this time I couldn’t argue with him, because he was right.
LOGAN
As the crow flies, Beacon Hill was only a hop, skip, and a jump from Dorchester Avenue.
At the most, it was ten miles.
Given Boston traffic, it was going to take me fucking forever to get to her, and in the pit of my stomach I knew I didn’t even have five minutes.
Black rose petals.
They meant dread.