Page 25 of Pocketful of Us

"I didn’t want to do this, not to you, never to you, but maybe it will give me some semblance of peace," he called out from the bathroom, sounding maniacal. "Maybe when Cal loses his child and grandchild, some of my pain will be taken away."

"Please don’t," I cried out, yanking fruitlessly on the locked door. "I didn’t hurt your wife." Fear clawed at my throat, making it hard to breathe. "I'm so sorry he did this to you." Frantic, I looked around for an exit and spied the double glass doors that led onto what I presumed was his and his late wife's private balcony. "I hate him, too, but killing me won't bring your wife and son back."

Racing across the bedroom floor, I lunged for the balcony doors only to release a choked sob when I found them both locked.

No.

No.

No, dammit, no!

A pained cry escaped my lips and I crumpled to the floor in defeat.

"I will not torture you, but I cannot make it painless. Not when my wife and son did not receive the same mercy," Raffaele announced, returning to the room with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. " It will only take a few minutes for the water to overtake you. You'll lose consciousness quickly. It will be over before you know it."

"You're going todrownme?" I squeezed out, shaking violently now. "What about my baby –"

"It does not matter to me," he quickly interrupted, looking both wholly enraged and completely grief-stricken. "Not anymore."

"I know you're a good man, Raffaele," I tried to reason. "Better than my father will ever be. You didn’t hurt me on the ship when you so easily could have, so don’t do it now. Please." Tears trickled down my cheeks and I fought to catch my breath. "My father took your child from you. You know how that feels. Please don’t take mine from me!"

With blank eyes, he looked straight through me, not hearing a word of my pleas, and I knew it was over.

He was going to end my life.

He was going to drown me in a bathtub.

I would never meet the baby I was growing in my womb.

I would never see Sketch again.

"Be glad I didn’t allow my men to rape you like your father did to my wife," Raffaele declared heatedly. "Be glad I spared you that much."

When he grabbed my arm and began to drag me towards the bathroom, my flight or fight instincts kicked in, and, for the first time in my life, I chose tofight.

Reaching wildly for anything I could use as a weapon, I latched onto one of the picture frames I had knocked to the ground in my rush to escape earlier.

"No!" Clutching it tightly in my hand, I swung the wooden frame at his legs, hitting him as hard as I could. "Let me go!"

Ripping the frame out of my hands, he tossed it on the floor beside the tub. Crying hard and ugly, I clutched the sides of the tub and clenched my eyes shut, praying for an intervention that I knew would never come.

"…Whenever you're scared, all you have to do is think of this song, Ro. Even if I'm not around, just sing the words and I'll hear it and protect you..."

Like a deranged lunatic, I started to sing at the top of my lungs as I desperately fought against the pressure of Raffaele's hand until he managed to shove my head under the frigid water.

Clawing at the porcelain rim of the tub, I held my breath as I struggled to free myself, fighting for a life I wasn’t sure I could survive without Sketch.

Finally breaking the surface once more, I coughed and spluttered mouthfuls of water out before dragging precious air back into my lungs and continuing to scream the words of the song.

Water quickly replaced the air in my lungs as my head was forcefully shoved back into the water without warning. My chest threatened to explode between my burning lungs and the side of the tub digging into my breast bone.

It's okay, Ro.

I'm here.

Keep on singing, baby.

I'll chase your demons away…

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