Page 30 of Cut Me Down

This is it. I'm not surviving this time.

I start trying to kick my legs at him, and claw at his hands, arms, and face for him to let me go, but it doesn’t do any good. He’s got me pinned and he’s much too strong for me. All of his weight is pressing me down, painfully forcing my hips into the floor while his palms crush my throat. My thoughts immediately go to digging my nails into any part of him I can, to get his DNA under my fingernails, for when they discover my body. I knew he'd come for me. I should’ve been more prepared than this. I was so worried lately about a new threat that I completely underestimated Cooper’s hatred for me.

Serena will be devastated… And so disappointed in me…

“You fucking bitch! You thought you could get rid of me?” I feel his grip tightening as he constricts my air flow completely. I try to suck in one last breath, but the slight amount of air bounces off of his grip and runs out of my mouth. My lungs are burning and screaming for air as I feel the familiar sting to my eyes. His face shakes with hatred, and as I claw at his forearms and shoulders, I can feel how taut his body is with rage.

“Are you seeing someone else, you fucking whore? Who wasted those pretty flowers on a useless, used up tramp like you? Huh? Look at how you're dressed! You think showing your body like a cheap slut is appealing to any real man!” My struggle is getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment, and the edges of my vision become darker. Light spots begin to twinkle, covering his face, the background, and bleeding into the black mist that coats the edges of my field of view. I feel my attempts to fight back lessen, and my limbs get heavier, but I push back through as hard as I can. Reaching out one last time and aiming for his eyes. Due to my static vision, I can’t quite tell what I hit, but from his lack of painful grunts, I know it wasn’t anything that could potentially weaken him temporarily. The heaviness crashes over my body and I allow my arms to fall to the side, not being able to hold them up any longer.

“Do you know what I’ve had to go through because of you!” Darkness is consuming me now. Closing in like a tiger about to pounce on its prey. I can feel my pulse against his grip grow weaker and weaker as the darkness takes over, only to be revived by a quick flash, quiet click, water, and…something else splashing onto my face.

Gathering what energy I can, I turn to my side and kick, gasping for air, and knocking Cooper off of me. The shock that takes over my body is surmounting as I’m actually able to fend him off.

Wait, that was…way too easy. He’s toying with me…

I grasp my throat and try to relieve as much of the pain as I can. Coughing and sputtering as I run the pads of my fingers over my throat, manifesting enough power to stand and run away from Cooper. My gaze immediately snaps in his direction, ready to jump to my feet, and that’s when I finally see him…

My vision is still spinning, but I see he’s lying on the floor motionless. I try to make sense of my swirling sight when it comes to a standstill…his head has a gaping hole in the side. Dark, jagged, and bloody. Skin, bone, and…brain…hanging around it in disarray. His eyes are plastered open in an empty, haunting stare as streams of blood run over them, and they don’t move or twitch… Looking back to the hole, my focus is brought to the pink and gray, cottage cheese looking brain matter scattered over his head…

That’s what’s on my fucking face…

A ghost like caress drags across my cheek, activating a ringing in my ears and scaring me back into reality. I allow my flight senses to take over as I try and catch my breath, scrambling to my feet as my eyesight throbs with every accelerated heartbeat. The blood that surges past my ear drums is the only thing that suppresses the screeching ring playing throughout my head. I sprint as fast as I can and run to my bedroom. Slamming the door, locking it, and running into my bathroom, gagging. Half from disgust and half from lack of oxygen.

What the fuck just happened…

As I run into the small space, I catch a quick look at myself in the mirror. The only thing I recognize out of the vast sea of red that now covers my face is the whites of my eyes. My trembling legs give out, drawing me closer to the toilet in just enough time for me to vomit into the porcelain bowl. Not only from the thought of brain matter and blood scattered all over my face and chest, but the fact thathisbodily fluids are on me again… My head is pounding, and my heart might just beat out of my chest. I can’t even grasp the toilet properly because my hands are so slippery from the blood now on my hands.

My nerves almost jump out of my skin to the sound of the shower cutting on and I watch as two large, firm arms lift me up and take me into the stall. The grip tight and desperate, but not causing any pain as the large familiar frame towering over me stands tall. Controlling my every move. A cold shock screams through me as my back hits the cold tiled shower wall, and warm water streams over my body. My body immediately goes into a short shock from the two different temperatures colliding, while the waters trajectory is aimed perfectly so it doesn’t shoot straight into my face.

I can’t scream. My throat is too sore, and I'm not sure if any sounds would come out if I tried. So in an act of pure desperation, I start throwing my fists in front of me, only to land on a hardened wall of muscle. Hands that aren’t mine, yet soft enough to ease the tense muscles, gently grab my face and move my head up to see those piercing, teal, blue eyes. Black hair drapes down his forehead as the water pounds into it. He’s talking, but I can’t hear him over the ringing and raging heartbeat pounding in my ears.

“Look at me, baby! You’re okay!” I hear, muffled. The deep, soothing voice slowly penetrates the deep ringing, and makes its way into my eardrums. Without tearing his gaze from mine, he reaches out of the shower toward his phone, and he brings it to his ear. “I need a cleanup crew, now!” He throws it back onto the bathroom counter and puts his hand back on my face. I feel myself shaking under his calm hands. The warmth of them is trying to push out this cold confrontation.

“Look at me! Look at me, little wolf.” I do as he says but it’s hard with my hyperventilating, the edges of my vision begin blackening again as I feel my chest tighten. “I'm not going to hurt you! Youcanbreathe, okay? Breathe for me, baby.” He takes deep breaths and nods to me, inviting me to join in, and as if completely hypnotized, I comply. After three large, painful breaths, the muscles in my chest relax and my vision starts to normalize. “Good, that’s good. I'm going to get it off, okay?” He takes my washcloth off the small hanger and begins washing my face. Gently scrubbing the evidence of Cooper’s death from my face.

Cooper’s death… He’s dead…

That realization smacks me. The blow almost as hard as the one that started this altercation. What the hell happened out there? I was as good as dead. Cooper was right there. Kneeling above me as death’s servant, ready to steal my soul, and then…dead. Not me. Him. I look down to my shirt to see the bloody chunks clinging to the material, and panic sets in. My fingers start to claw at it, whimpers finally escaping my mouth.

I just want it off! Get it off!GET IT OFF!

“Ashia, stop. You're scratching yourself.” I hear the worry conveyed in his tone, and it immediately makes me halt and stare at my shaky hands. He quickly takes his hands behind my head and yanks on the strap to my top, ripping it apart. He doesn’t waste any time doing the same to the strap around my back, and he throws the shirt to the base of the shower like it would hurt to touch it any longer. The action leaving my chest bare. Cold air brushes my skin despite the hot water pouring around us and hardens my nipples. Normally, I would be embarrassed to feel so exposed in front of a man, but that is the last thought on my mind. I squeeze my arms together, trying to cover myself as I reach to grab onto his shirt. Needing something, anything, to anchor myself, but I only feel his skin. His smooth, flawless skin. He’s shirtless.

Why didn’t I notice he was shirtless before now?

“Look at me.” He says and I comply without question. His voice reaches the parts of my soul that already trust this stranger. “It’s off, it’s all off. Okay? Just try to relax.” I claw at his shoulders to grab onto some sort of sanity, and he tightens his grip on me. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. I'm right here.” I start to breathe again as I tremble and lose most of the feeling in my legs. My wobbly limbs don’t stand a chance after all of the adrenaline that was coursing through my veins. Weakly, I start to fall, but his strong arms hold me up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t give him the satisfaction. He can't hurt you again. I took care of it.” I look back at his beautiful blues, and his face softens as he looks at me genuinely. His stare is so soft and endearing. Like he’s truly concerned for me, and the most precious thing in the world to him. As if his gaze alone could restore the strength in my legs.

He killed Cooper, and he did it without hesitation…while that should terrify me, it doesn’t. He saved me, putting everything else aside to ensure my life. If I was sane, I’d start screaming at the top of my lungs and fight like hell to survive, but every fiber of my being is telling me to give myself over to this man. I'm not sane right now, and I'm not surviving. I knew that the moment I saw Cooper on top of me.

The stalker has come to collect his prey, and I'm willingly handing myself over.

My heartbeat in my ears begins to merge with the strong base from the music earlier tonight, melting reality and memory together. The soft touches of his hands wisp over my body in a paranormal trance. It could be because I'm delirious, but fuck he looks so good right now.

His chest muscles rise and fall with each breath, and the water runs down and over the riverbeds that his abs are. Finally seeing the toned torso that encased me earlier has my mouth watering. When I first compared him to a God, I wasn’t exaggerating. He stands tall and hardened, like he’s a warrior in command. Ready and willing to fight at the drop of a dime.

The softness of the pad of his thumb draws my attention back to his blue, chameleon colored gaze. His grazing touch across my cheek coerces a shaky breath to venture out. The touch is so soft and tender, that I wonder how he was ever capable of murdering someone. This isn’t the touch of a manic man…

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