Page 43 of Pretty Broken Wings
“Nice guy, Kevin is. Drunk as fuck tonight, though.” Axel starts wandering through my place.
“Hey.” I chase after him.
“Where’s the boiler?” He stalks to the kitchen, poking around.
“It’s not here, asshole. Don’t you think I looked?”
Axel spins, hands on his hips. “Damn it.”
For a second, I wonder if hitting him will make things worse. If he’ll pull it out of my hands and beatmewith it.
I find myself stuck in the same nightmare I’ve been in since a child: rollover. Play dead. Don’t anger the man, and he won’t hurt you.
Suddenly, Axel is right in front of me, hands caging me in on either side. “You can come to my place,” he says. The look he’s giving me. It’s the same look Max gave me after… he did what he did. It’s a placating look. A gentle look. It makes me feel sick.
“C’mon.” Axel’s smiling now. His eyes are all soft, but it’s not real. I know it’s not real; I just can’t put my finger on what’s wrong.
Axel grabs my hand. “We’ll go to my place.”
His place. He’s going to move me to a different location. He’s taking me somewhere else so he can do what he wants to me. My entire body feels locked up.
Axel pulls me gently along behind him. I don’t want to follow, but instinct screams that I do. That I just appease him.
The steps I take are in slow motion, and my gaze locks on the book beside my bed. The book I used to read as a kid where the main character jumped on the back of the bad guy and beat him over the head. I always wanted to be her.
You might not ever have a chance to be her if you let him take you.
I stop. I dig my weight into my heels, and Axel stops, turning back around with raised eyebrows.
Fight. And don’t stop fighting till you make it out.
Fuck, I’m scared. I scan Axel’s face, looking to see if he’s mad at me. To see if he’s going to hit me.
He’ll do worse than hit you. Fucking fight.
“You okay?” The space between Axel’s brows bunch. But it’s all wrong. The furrows are too deep, like he’s trying too hard to look concerned.
“Yeah.” The fear sneaks out before I can stop it, and I give Axel a tiny smile.
“Okay.” He smiles back, grabs my keys off the counter, then pulls me toward the door.
I’ve been hit before. I survived.
Another step.
I’ve been assaulted before. I survived.
One more step.
I can feel that book’s presence burning into my awareness.
No. No more cowering. It’s time to fight.
Then, I yank my arm from Axel’s grip, and with a scream, attack him from behind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
14 Years Old
