Page 118 of The First Cut
“Someone is in the house. I’m in the tunnels with Evan. Please, you have to hurry,” she sobs.
I take off, running to the back door and shoving my way through the throngs of people. “Where’s Lola?” I yell as I shove the door and jump down the steps, landing on the damp grass.
“She’s still in the house.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Lola
Pain. That’s all I feel when I float back to consciousness. It’s almost enough to make me want to sink again, but I’m all that stands between Driller and the kids.
With my eyes so swollen, my vision is limited. I force them open anyway. It takes me a moment to realize I’m staring at the ceiling as I slowly slide across the floor.
My head throbs like a bitch and my scalp feels like it’s on fire. I lift my hand, which feels oddly detached, and try to feel for a lump. Instead, my hand wraps around a wrist.
Driller.
The pieces snap into place. It’s Driller’s hand in my hair, tugging me along the floor. His movements are hampered by his injuries. I feel a small amount of pride for hurting him. He’s making slow progress because he’s crawling, yanking me toward him after he crawls forward a few steps.
I grin in glee. I must look a macabre sight, but I can’t help gloating. He won’t be getting away so quickly this time.
“Fuck!” he screams in frustration before punching something. The floor, maybe? As long as it’s not my head. Ibarely have the strength to stay awake, fighting him off will take more energy than I have. But while he’s focused on me, he’s not going after the kids.
I listen hard for anything over the sound of Driller’s heavy breathing and ranting, but I can’t hear anything else anymore. Evan must have cried himself back to sleep. Though I hate the thought of him being hungry, at least he’s safe.
I try to turn my head at the sound of shuffling, but when Driller’s face fills my limited vision, I flinch at the raw anger there.
“This is all your fucking fault!” he snarls, saliva dripping from his mouth onto my chin, like a rabid dog.
He grabs my hair, with both hands this time, lifting me slightly and eliciting a scream before he slams my head back to the floor. He releases me so he can crawl over me.
I turn my head and vomit, feeling it run down my cheek and drip into my hair. When I turn back, Driller’s face is so close to mine, I can taste his rancid breath.
“You just signed your own death?—”
“Just do it already. Don’t you watch fucking movies?” I snap, letting my terror fuel my anger. “The bad guy always dies when he’s giving a lame-ass monologue. Just kill me already. This is how you like me, right—weak and unable to fight back? But then that’s the only time you stand a chance to win, isn’t it? Against an injured woman.” I laugh, and even though it makes me want to throw up all over again, I don’t regret it.
“You’re pathetic. When Hannibal gets you, and he will, I hope he takes his time. I want him to peel your skin from your bones. Then maybe I could get him to dip you in a vat of hand sanitizer.”
He hits me again, but this time, it’s an open-handed slap. My cheek stings, but it causes no real damage. He’s tiring.
“You hit like a bitch, you useless piece of shit. The only thing you’re good at is living in your brother’s shadow.”
An enraged snarl erupts from his chest as he lifts himself higher before pulling his arm back to hit me again. With a battle cry of my own, I reach up and grab his head, shoving my thumbs into his eye sockets as hard as I can.
He screams like a banshee and grabs my wrists. I hold on as tight as I can, my manic laughter bordering on hysterical, when a roar fills the room.
I still, my hands dropping like dead weights as pure, stark relief washes over me. I know that sound.
Hannibal’s here.
I’ve no sooner thought it before the weight of Driller's gone as Hannibal tackles him to the ground. Chaos descends around me as a cacophony of noise threatens to make my head explode.
Gentle hands touch my face, but I flinch from the contact.
“It’s okay, Lola. You’re safe now.” Gunther’s voice shakes before he yells, “Hannibal, fuck! Lola needs you.”
“Oh fuck, Lola, what did that bastard do to you?” a new voice whispers. Snoopy.
