Page 25 of Touch In The Dark

“Jesus Christ, Drake. Could you knock any louder, or is your plan to get me evicted from my apartment, too?” I seethed between gritted teeth.

“If you would have answered my call, I wouldn’t have had to come over,” he replied sarcastically, pushing his way past me.

“What do you want?” I asked as I looked both ways down the hall before closing the door.

“I wanted to talk to you about today. I thought we could come to an agreement.”

I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I would have bet my life that he was drunk. “Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted as he strolled over to the couch and picked up my glass of wine from the table, downing the entire contents. “How can you drink this shit? You got any beer?”

Was he for real? “No, I don’t have any beer.” At least not for him. “Say what you came here to say and leave.”

“Don’t be that way, Harpey,” he slurred as he plopped down on my couch. “Come sit.”

He padded the couch cushion beside him, gesturing that I should take a seat. No way in hell was I going to sit so close to him. I would rather sit next to a rattlesnake. Walking over to the couch, I remained standing with my arms crossed over my chest. “Maybe you should sober up before talking to me. I think it is best if you leave.”

Drake rose to his feet, anger flooding his expression. As if a switch had been flipped, his demeanor changed in an instant. He lunged toward me, circling the coffee table and grabbing my arm before I could retreat. His grip was strong and unyielding; my attempts to break free only causing him to tighten his hold.

“You know what you are, Harpey,” he spat, his words slurred from the alcohol still coursing through his veins. “An ungrateful bitch.”

I struggled against him, trying to wrench my arm from his grasp. But it was no use—he was determined to make his point known.

Without warning, he pressed his mouth against mine in a forceful, possessive kiss. I could taste the alcohol on his breath as I bit down hard on his lower lip. He let out a grunt of pain but didn’t release me. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening his inhibitions, or maybe this was who he truly was beneath the surface. When he finally let go, his eyes were filled with anger rather than remorse.

“You little cunt,” he sneered, his hand coming across my cheek in a sharp slap. “You really need to learn some respect.”

My head spun from the force of the blow, but before I could collect myself, he lifted me up and slammed me back down onto the floor. With the wind knocked out of me, I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. As he forcibly worked his hands up my skirt, I frantically searched for a way out of this nightmare.

Finally, I saw my opportunity and lifted one knee upward, aiming for the area that would cause him the most pain. But just as I was about to strike, he flipped me over onto my stomach and pinned me down with one hand while using the other to continue his assault on my body. The stench of alcohol on his breath made me gag as I struggled against him, desperately trying to break free. This was not the man I thought I knew. This was a monster fueled by rage and alcohol. And as his hand moved higher up my leg, all I could think about was how I would do anything to make it stop.

“Get the fuck off of her.” River’s voice sounded behind me.

Drake’s weight pressed down on me, his hands clawing at my clothes. I struggled to push him off, but it was useless. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I felt the pressure release as River pulled Drake off of me by his throat. I gasped for air, relief flooding through me.

Rolling over, I saw River’s face contorted with rage as he squeezed tighter. In that moment, I feared for Drake’s life. I scrambled to my feet and desperately tried to pry River’s strong grip from around Drake’s throat.

“River, stop!” I pleaded, panic rising in my chest. “He’s drunk. You need to let him go.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern etched into every line of his face as he slowly loosened his grip on Drake’s neck.

“Yes. I’m fine,” I replied, trying to get a grip on what just happened.

River removed his hands from his neck, leaving him coughing and struggling for air. “Do you realize what could have happened if I hadn’t barged in?” he seethed, still holding on to Drake by his collar.

I hung my head in shame, knowing he was right. “I do,” I admitted. “Just let him go.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Drake stammered in between coughing and clearing his throat.

Taking a deep breath, River released his hold on Drake and stood up straight. As Drake tried to regain his composure, River raised his hand and delivered a powerful punch to his face. The force of the blow sent Drake sprawling to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.

My heart raced as I thought River had possibly killed him. But when I checked for a pulse, he was still breathing. Turning toward River in shock, I scolded him for going too far.

“You could have killed him!” I exclaimed.

“But I didn’t,” he responded calmly as he pulled out his phone from his suit pocket. “Brian, we have a situation. I’m going to need your help.”

“What are you going to do?” I demanded, determined to stop any further violence.

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