Page 37 of Bound to a Killer

“He’ll…kill you.” The last few words come out slurred, drowned out by my sobs.

The room spins, the walls caving in on me. It feels like I’m being crushed. I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can barely take in a proper breath.

His thin, hard lips slam into mine, a slimy tongue forcing its way into my mouth. It’s vile. I do the first thing that comes to mind, and I bite down on it.

He lets out an ungodly scream. “What was that for?! You fucking bitch!”

He backhands me, hard, but I’m numb to it. Then, he jerks me up by my hair and slams me to the ground like a rag doll, my teeth slicing through my lip on impact.

“We could’ve played at this nicely, but a slut like you wants it rough, huh?”

His body crashes over me, pinning me down as his hand tugs at my bottoms, granting himself access. I struggle beneath him, knowing it won’t do me any good, but I can’t let myself stop fighting.

Another slap smacks me hard. My head spins. A metallic tang coats my tongue, mixing with his foul taste. All I can do now is screw my eyes shut and pray it ends quickly.

“Listen, you dumb fucking bitch, I’m done playing nice,” he spits.

I don’t hear anything else after that. My mind shuts down. Maybe it’s self-preservation, or maybe survival instinct. Either way, I float somewhere else.

The pounding in my head is all I can hear, a heavy thrum that drowns out everything else. The rest of the noise fades into the background.

I only snap back when the weight is lifted off me, just in time before anything goes too far. His screams tear through the air, a pained, guttural sound that only grows to a prolonged shriek that threatens to snap his vocal cords.

The violent nature of it should scare me, but all I feel isrelief. I can’t make sense of what’s happening to him through the chaos of his cries.

I sit up, disoriented. Red is the first thing I see.

Blood. There’s so much blood.

Looming over him are those stormy grey eyes, with fury unlike anything I’ve seen blazing in them. His chest heaves, feral and unrelenting, as he guts the man he’s pulled off me. Again and again. Until the cries finally die out.

My fingers tremble as I push myself off the ground. My legs wobble as I take in the crimson splattered across the room. He’s dead now. I’m pretty sure of it.

The numbness in my body fades, giving way to more silent tears. The salty droplets soak into my split lip, making them sting.

He walks over to me, raising his bloodied thumb to brush along my cheek, then lingering on my chin a moment too long.

I should be scared of him. Terrified. But I’m not.

“It’s over now,” he reassures me, his voice gentle.

My tears keep falling. “W-What happens now?”

I wrap my arms around myself, desperate to stop the tremors.

He lowers his arm, smudging a trail of blood and tears down my chin in the process. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of him.”

My heart pounds in that dangerously familiar rhythm. He looks indifferent to all the gore around us. I shudder, but not from him. I don’t judge him for killing that guy. I judge myself for wanting him to do it, for beinghappythat he did it.

He keeps his eyes trained on mine a moment longer than he needs to, like he knows I need the extra reassurance, somehow reading into me so well.

“Some people deserve to die, remember?”

12

LEDGER

Fucking Maxwell Macomb.