Page 42 of A Light in the Darkness
My eyes cut back to the doorbell camera. We have one of those on our apartment, and I know well enough that it can’t see us from this position. It’s why the stranger is trying to make me stay silent. Whoever is watching him on the doorbell, he doesn’t want them to know he’s here… or that I’m here.
My options are so limited that I’m not sure any decision is a good one, but I have to do something. I don’t know what this man’s play is, but I’ll put him in check however I have to.
He doesn’t expect me to run at him, and that gives me the advantage I need to sprint past him and up the steps before he can get his hands out to grab me.
“Help!” I yell, dashing to the doorbell camera and beating it with my fist to try and raise some alarm for the woman watching, wherever she is. “Call the police!”
I’ve just closed my fingers around the blade in my pocket when the man’s weight slams into me, knocking me against the wall and pinning my arm to my side as he grinds my face into the brick.
Something wet trickles down my lip as pain explodes across my face. The crunch tells me I may have just broken my nose.
“Stupid bitch.”
The growl in my ear is almost an echo of my own thoughts. Thiswasa stupid decision, trusting a stranger to help me find the man I’m looking for. It was a desperate decision, but that’s exactly what I’ve been these last few months… desperate.
I’m struggling to breathe, my chest being squeezed too tight and my bloody nose not letting air pass, but I’ve still got the knife in my hand, waiting to get the leverage to use it.
“Daddy?”
The small voice that speaks is so shocking, I don’t even take advantage when the man freezes, his body going slack against mine.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He says, his voice syrupy sweet and betraying nothing of the venom with which he just called me a stupid bitch.
The voice is obviously coming from the camera—I wonder how much she can see right now. He’s pushing me further into the corner, trying to get me out of view, and it gives me the leverage to use my arm, just enough to slip the knife out of my pocket. A heavy hand on the back of my neck keeps me from moving, but he’s trying to make me eat the brick wall, grinding my face against it in an effort to keep me silent.
“Where’s your mommy, baby?”
“She’s in the kitchen. Want me to take the phone to her?”
“No!” The man blurts out. “Don’t go to mommy. I have to go to work right now, so I can’t talk, but I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” the girl agrees.
“Go back to watching your videos, okay pumpkin?”
“Okay, daddy!” she says excitedly.
“I love you, pumpkin!”
“I love you, too, daddy!” There’s a moment as I get a small amount of leverage and draw air into my lungs to cry for help, but then he grips the back of my head and presses me harder into the wall, the rough brick scraping at my skin. “So, anyways, bye!” His daughter rushes out.
It takes a minute for the man to relax, but then he seems assured that his daughter has quit watching, because he yanks me toward him by my hair. “You like to do things the hard way, don’t you, Claire?” He growls, wrapping an arm around my neck and one under my ribs, lifting me off the ground.
I seize my chance, stabbing him in the arm. I’m not going for depth right now, so as he howls in pain, I pull the blade out and stab him again, higher this time as his grip on me falters. He cries out again, a pathetic bleating sound like a sheep, but it rolls into a growl as he says “You definitely like things the hard way.” He’s just got me by the arm around my neck, now, constricting my air even more as he squeezes like a python trying to crush its prey.
And there is no mistake that I am the prey. Whatever this man wants with me, it’s not good. He confirms as much when he hoists me over the threshold and slams his door shut with a fancy shoe. I’ve pulled the blade out, ready to stab him a third time—I’ll stab him as many times as I have to—but I can’t find purchase, so I wave it around blindly, hoping to catch him beneath it.
I’ve got no leverage, my feet still dangling above the ground as he moves with me ahead of him toward a set of white double doors. I don’t want to know what’s waiting on the other side of them, and my chances at escape are diminishing rapidly. I fight him every step he takes, trying to wriggle out of his grasp so I don’t end up trapped on the other side of his door.
But instead of opening them up, he throws me against one, letting me take in deep, greedy breaths of air through my mouth as he pins me there with his own weight. “You’re really pretty with all that blood.” He pants, seizing both wrists at the same time.
My free hand, he immobilizes above me as he twists my other arm so sharply that I cry out in pain. “Drop the knife, baby. You can’t really think you stand a chance against me.”
I have no idea who this man is or who he thinks he is, but I stood a chance against Wes, even before Remy saved me. I sure as hell stand a chance against this guy, and I’m not willing to believe otherwise. I hold it tighter, refusing to open my fingers.
The blood that covers us could be mine, or his, or both. It coats the hand that I can see about to rip my shoulder out of the socket, but I can’t look at my arm twisting back at an angle it definitely isn’t supposed to be capable of without feeling sick.
“Lucky for you, I like doing things the hard way.” He laughs, letting go of me so suddenly that the tears in my eyes turn from pain to relief.
