Page 2 of Shattered
"I'm not sleeping-"
"Wrong answer!"
Click.
My heart stopped and then kicked in again at an alarming pace.
"How long, Sarah?"
"Drew, please don't do this."
His head cocked to the side and then-
Click.
"You'd better start answering truthfully," Drew sneered. With both his feet planted firmly on the ground he leaned closer, pressing the cold metal of the muzzle against my skin.
I tried to swallow down the fear that was lodged in my throat.
Click.
Somehow I had to defuse the situation—two lives depended on it. Drawing strength from somewhere deep inside, I brought my hand up and placed it over Drew's cold one. The steadiness in my voice shocked me.
"Drew, why would I look at another man when I have you? I'm nothing without you; I haven't forgotten that. No one can give me what you can."
For a tense moment, he just stared at me, his eyes gleaming, his lips twitching. A self-assured smirk broke free while Drew lowered the weapon and suddenly grabbed me by the hair and pulled my face to his.
"Damn straight. You were nothing when I met you, and I can put you back on the streets so fast it will make your head spin." The way his hungry gaze raked over me made me sick to the pit of my stomach. "Now, be a good wife and get your husband something to drink before you fulfill your wifely duties."
I scurried out of there as fast as I could manage. Drew had beaten me many times before, but he'd never, not once, pressed a gun against my head. My whole body was trembling when I walked into the kitchen.
After pouring his drink, I reached inside my bra and pulled out the little bag I'd been carrying with me the whole day. I'd hidden it there because I didn't know what he'd do to me if he found it. With one last look over my shoulder, I emptied the contents into the tumbler and stirred furiously.
This had to work.
"Took you long enough," Drew barked when I entered the dining room again.
"Sorry," I mumbled as I handed him the drink. With my breath caught in my throat, I watched him swallow down the liquid.
"I'm going to go freshen up." I was out of there so fast; he didn't even have time to stop me.
Instead of freshening up, I went straight to the safe in Drew's closet and emptied it. With my heart beating uncontrollably, I pulled the small backpack which I'd stashed there that morning, from beneath the bed and clutched it to my chest.
"Sharraah!" My name was nothing but a slur. Cold terror held me in a vice grip as I listened to Drew's heavy footfalls drawing closer. "Sharrrraaaahhh!"
"No, no, no," I chanted over and over again. Drew should've been out cold by now; I'd given him enough sleeping pills. I could hear him edging closer and closer, and then.
Thud.
I listened and heard nothing. Still clutching the backpack in a white-knuckled grip, I dared to venture out of the bedroom.
Drew was flat on his face in the middle of the floor. Cautiously, I pointed my toes inside my sneakers and poked his head.
Nothing.
Tears of relief spilled from my eyes, and without hesitation, I sprinted to the front door and pulled it open.
Freedom.
