Page 74

Willow

Fran’s head snapped back. A loud crack as her crown connected with the bridge of Cain’s nose. For a brief second, we remained silent, eyes wide, uncertain of our next moves.

A guttural roar burst through the silence, Cain’s hands covered his face, the knife hanging sloppily from his fingers, his head reared back as he stumbled backwards.

“ Run !” I shouted.

Fran tore from the bar stool sending it crashing to the floor. I grabbed her arm while she removed the gag from her mouth, hauling her towards the hallway and front door, pushing her ahead of me. Every step was like wading through treacle.

Pausing, I glanced over my shoulder. I spied Cain’s head falling forward, blood pouring through his hands and between his teeth. His venomous glare landed on me, and he clambered over the stool, launching forwards. I spun my head back to Fran.

We couldn’t both get out of here. I’d put her in this position, I sure as shit was going to get her out of it.

“Fran, go,” I barked as she reached the front door. She turned, her hand on the door knob. I would recognise the expression on her face anywhere. I’d worn it myself, but she wouldn’t.

“No, Willow! You can make i—”

“Go!” I screamed and darted into the alcove, taking a breath as the heavy steps of my abuser neared. Pressing my back against the wall, chin to my shoulder, I blindly fumbled behind me until I latched onto the handle of the wooden bat.

Time slowed. I closed my eyes. Blood pumped in my ears in time with the thuds of his steps.

Pulling the bat up to my left shoulder, both hands wrapped around the base, my fingers flexed, taking note of every groove and ridge.

With a deep breath, my eyes snapped open and with all the force I could muster, I swung the bat from the darkness of the alcove round my body and into the light of the hallway.