I just needed to be patient and keep goading him until I had him where I wanted him.
“Yeah, I'm damaged,” I say. “I'm not going to lie to you. And I don't know how I'd be with a kid, to be honest. Truthfully, the mere thought of having a kid scares the piss out of me.”
“Which is why I'm taking Abby out of here. Away from you,” he said. “And then she and I will set up our own family – well away from here, and well away from you.”
“Afraid I can't let you do that, Paul,” I said. “Whether or not I'm ready for it, or if I even want it, if that child is mine, then I've got no choice but to take care of her. And my child. That's my responsibility.”
“Get out of my way,” he hissed. “Abby, let's go.”
She pressed her body tightly against mine, still wracked with sobs, her breathing ragged, and her voice choked with tears.
“Please don't let him take me,” she whispered so softly, he couldn't hear her.
“I have no intention of letting him,” I whispered back.
“Abby,” Paul shouted, the impatience and rage in his voice coming out thick and harsh. “Let's fucking go. Right now.”
“I don't want to go anywhere with you, Paul.”
“Doesn't matter what you want,” he said. “Not anymore. You lost that privilege. Now, get your ass out here so we can go.”
“She's not going anywhere with you, man,” I said, my voice carrying a harder edge to it.
“Oh, you think you're a tough guy,” he snapped, waving the gun at me.
“Tougher than you,” I said. “I don't need a gun to threaten somebody. And I sure as hell don't beat on a woman.”
It was then that Paul made the mistake I'd been waiting for him to make. I knew, as fucked up in the head as he was, that he didn't actually want to kill me. He was a fake tough guy and holding a gun gave him a sense of power he didn't otherwise have. But, I also knew that if he were going to shoot me, he would have done it by now. When he waved his gun around and spoke like a tough guy, he expected people to fall all over themselves to comply with his wishes. To do whatever it is he asked out of a reasonable fear for their lives.
Except – that didn't work on me. I wasn’t so easily intimidated.
Paul stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead and I gave him a little smirk. I had him exactly where I wanted him. He saw the smirk and I watched as his face went slack. He knew that he'd lost the advantage and he was now in a position where he had to either pull the trigger and end me, or suffer the consequences of the shitstorm I was about to rain down on him.
His finger on the trigger, he hesitated. I gave him a full five seconds to make up his mind, and he stood there with his finger on the trigger, a look of uncertainty in his eyes, and a river of piss running down his leg.
Nobody could ever say I didn't give him a chance. But, now it was too late. It was my turn.
My hand moving faster than a coiled rattlesnake, it shot upward and I grabbed hold of his wrist and bent it backward. Paul howled in outrage and his finger squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shot was like a cannon going off in my ear, but the bullets fired off into the atmosphere. Harmless.
I gave the wrist a vicious tweak and Paul dropped his gun, where it hit the ground with a dull clatter. Stepping forward, I drove my fist into Paul's stomach. The air whooshed from his lungs and he doubled over, clutching his midsection, groaning miserably.
I turned and pushed Abby toward the house. She didn't move but stared into my eyes. She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me along with her, but I broke free from her grasp. I needed to finish this with Paul, once and for all.
“Go,” I shouted. “Lock yourself in, Abby. Go!”
I watched her scramble for the house, her normally fair complexion suddenly looking a few shades paler, and outright terror etched into her features. Her eyes were wide and frantic as she climbed the steps to the house and turned around to look at me.
“Get inside,” I waved to her. “Lock yourself in. Now!”
Abby ran inside, the slamming of the door echoing hollowly around the yard. Good. She was safe for now. The sound of the man's grunts drew my attention. I spun around and saw him scrambling for the gun. Knowing he'd get to it before I could if I reached for it, I did the only thing I could – I stepped forward and kicked it. The toe of my boot connected with it and I sent it flying across the yard. It landed somewhere in the shadows underneath the truck.
I would have preferred to have it in my hand. I could have brought this madness to a close quickly. But, at least I knew Paul wasn't going to get his hands on it. Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
“I'm going to kill you,” Paul wheezed. “You stole my family from me.”
“I didn't steal shit, asshole,” I snapped at him. “You lost them all on your own.”
He lunged at me, the quickness of his movement catching me off guard. He swung his fists at me wildly, an animalistic growl escaping his throat. My head rocked to the right when he got a glancing blow on my chin. It stung, but it wasn't too bad. I'd had worse.
He spun on his heel and brought his fists up again. I drove my own fist forward, putting as much power behind it as I could. The sound of the bone cracking registered in my ear, before the shockwave of impact traveled up my arm. Paul grunted and stumbled backward, his hands over his nose. His eyes were wide and tearing, and blood seeped out from between his fingers. I'd probably busted his nose.
He rushed toward me like an enraged bull, blood pouring down his face, giving him a ghastly visage. I stepped to the side, expecting him to stumble by me, but he showed some surprising agility, stopping and spinning back toward me on a dime.
The sunlight overhead glinted off something metallic that suddenly appeared in his hand. I'd only had a moment to register it, before it was swinging at me in a murderous arc. The blade of his knife cut through the air, and I tried to dance backward, out of range. But, because I hadn't been ready for it, the tip of the blade sliced through my upper arm, forcing me to suck in a sharp breath.
Blood flowed down my arm, soaking my shirt and spilled onto the ground. It wasn't too bad. Superficial, really. I took a few steps back, trying to get – and stay – out of his range for now.
I smirked at him. “I've cut myself worse shaving.”
“I'm going to kill you,” he said.
“Yeah, so you keep telling me,” I replied. “Bring it, then.”
Paul came charging at me again, his lips pulled back into a snarl, his arm cocked back, ready to deliver another slash with his blade. I was ready for it this time. As he drew close, I stepped to the side and spun on my heel, which made him miss me wildly. I followed up by delivering a massive punch to the kidneys.
Paul grunted, doubling over as I knocked the wind out of him for the second time. Stepping forward, I had intended to deliver a knockout punch, when he spun quickly around, coming up out of his crouch, a fiendish smile on his face. I caught the light glinting off the blade a moment too late and before I knew it, the damn knife was buried, hilt deep, in my side.
I felt the blade slice into me and a few moments later, I felt the blood begin to flow from the wound in a raging torrent. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I couldn't let him win. Couldn't leave Abby like that – not with him lurking around out here, ready to kill her.
But, I also knew that if I pulled the knife out, I could be risking death. I could bleed out right there in the driveway. I grunted and stepped back a few paces, keeping my distance from him. I needed to collect myself – which was hard to do. My side felt like it was on fire, electrical pulses of pain shooting along my every nerve ending.