Page 63 of Saving You Losing Me

I stare at him in horror as he hisses, “I’m going to start a war, and it’s all your fucking fault you sad deluded bitch.”

He strikes me hard across the face with his fist and the pain is so intense it momentarily blinds me.

Before I can recover, he punches me hard in the stomach, knocking me backward so I fall against his desk. I slide to the ground and cover my head as he starts kicking me in the ribs, panic and pain blocking any attempt to escape.

“You’re a fucking bitch, Clara. You always were, and I blame you for this. It’s whores like you that bring men down, and I will not be one of them.”

With every sentence, he kicks me hard against any point of contact he can find, and I am blindsided. I can’t defend myself and I truly believe he has lost his mind and I will never make it out of this room.

It’s painful to breathe and I wonder if he’s punctured my lung because the pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

“This is what you need, bitch. I’m going to teach you a lesson and you will thank me for it, you fucking whore.”

Michael is possessed. This is the worst I’ve ever seen him. He often flies into violent rages, but nothing on this scale. He is out of control and there is nobody who will dare attempt to stop him and I strongly believe he will kill me before he calms down.

“I blame you for this.” Another kick against my thigh accompanies his words. “You’ve been leaking information like a pail with rusted holes to the fuckers who want to bring me down. You’ll pay the price of that, not me, and I’m about to teach you a lesson you will never forget. Everyone will see what happens to the person who lets me down. This will be a permanent reminder that nobody betrays Michael Santobello.”

My heart lurches in fear as he takes the poker from the fire and turns toward me with a crazed expression in his eye. Before I can react, he brings it down hard on my back as I attempt to crawl away.

“You’ll never get away, you whore. Accept your punishment and I may accept your groveling apology after I’ve torn you up inside with this fucking poker.”

Everything blurs as my eye closes up on me, swollen from the beating he inflicted on my face. The pain is all consuming, but it’s fight or die. I can’t see any other way out of this and then, as I taste the blood filling my mouth, I see it.

Like a beacon of hope, I fixate on the gleam coming from underneath the desk, revealing the gun Michael has always taped to the underside.

I don’t dwell on it for long and as Michael raises the poker to inflict more damage, I grab hold of it as he screams obscenities at me, not realizing what I’m doing because he is so blinded by his rage.

As soon as I hold it in my hand, I roll onto my back and take aim and fire. A split second decision that gives me no room for doubt.

As the shot fires, time stands still and then, as if in slow motion, he falls. There is no time to move and his body falls onto mine, the blood shooting from his head like a river that’s burst from its bank.

As his weight crushes me, I struggle to breathe and it’s as if my entire body is screaming in pain.

Somehow, through the pain and with a super power I never knew I had, I wrench his body off me and crawl to the nearby chair. As I drag in painful breaths, I turn, fully expecting him to land his final blow, but all I find is Michael’s eyes staring up at me as he lies sideways on the floor where he fell. Those eyes have no life left in them and as I watch the carpet turn red before my eyes, reality hits. I killed my husband and I may as well be dead too because when Emilio learns what I’ve done, my life will be over, anyway.

Once again, self-preservation kicks in and I know I don’t have long before Emilio returns with the unfortunate Dominic Riley.

The guards went with Emilio and it takes all my remaining strength to drag myself up and stumble toward the door, my purse lying where it fell when Michael grabbed hold of me.

I can’t look back. It’s too horrific to witness and as I limp toward the front door, I pray nobody stops me.

The staff will be hiding. They always do when Michael flies into a rage and probably vacated the house in favor of the staff accommodation set a short distance away.

My car is waiting and tears mix with blood as I hobble to the car, my breathing painful and my vision impaired by the swelling.

There is no other choice but to flee for my life and if I’m stopped by the cops, I would welcome it. However, I’m so afraid because I murdered my husband and my only thought is to get help for me and my darling girls.

There is only one place I can go, but I pray to God he is there.

It’sa short journey but also the most painful one of my life as I struggle to breathe, the pain inside me threatening death by fainting.

Somehow, I pull into the bay outside Lucy’s apartment block and as I stagger against the door and thump as hard as I can, my sobs choke me as I pray for help and as the door opens, I fall into the room.

Lucy screams as I fall down to my knees.

Jet says gently, “What happened, darlin’?”

I can’t speak and draw in ragged breaths and Lucy drops down on her knees before me and says gently, “Here, sip this. Then you can tell us what happened.”

---