Page 353 of Phobia

I have no strength to fight him.

I don’t want to live in a world where Delorean is not real. Where our love is nothing but ash. If anything, the sooner John kills me, the faster I will be reunited with my dream lover.

I don't feel pain. His fists leave a dull trace beneath my flesh. My eyes are heavy.

I won't be long, my love.

My tears mix with blood and my vision darkens and as I blink away the warm moisture clouding my sight. My eyes linger on a small bird token on the nightstand. It's porcelain, very old, the delicate paint disturbed by fine lines, like spider webs from the sheer process of aging.

The wings are painted in soft orange and the belly is a barely-there pink blush.

I close my eyes.

For you, my love,I hear Delorean say to me.

I choke on a sob, then take a deep breath.

I remember us. I remember that day Dee gave me this beautiful relic. I held it in my cupped palms for the longest time, trembling with pride. Too moved to let it go, too scared it would disintegrate into nothing if I applied the wrong amount of pressure holding it securely. It was a delicate old thing, so light and beautiful.

Delorean let me sit in my nest of pillows with my gift and didn't try to take it away from me or scold me for hoarding my present. He even fed me my breakfast and told me all about the way he had come to acquire the precious little figurine.

I hadn't been able to part with it all day. Delorean placed it on my side of the bed so it would be right there waiting for me when I woke up.

A splatter of blood coats the tiny figurine. I see a heavy drop slip down its beak and onto the dark surface of my nightstand. Another heavy blow lands on my face, darkening my eyesight completely.

I furiously blink, trying to get back into the light. As if through a thick murky river of blood I hear John's voice louder and louder, “You miserable human waste! I should have known you'd only be trouble!”

I gasp for air. His hands return to my throat, choking me again. But this time, I don't want to stop breathing.

Little bird.

Little bird.

Little bird.

You must be brave, my love...

I buckle beneath John’s heavy weight. He goes to straddle me and pin me down, letting go of my neck and scrambling to grab my wrists. Without even knowing it, I’ve begun trying to grab him and push him off me. He swears and tries to hit me, but as he lets go, I wriggle away from underneath him, still completely blind.

I can feel his bodyweight dipping into the thick mattress as I tumble onto the hardwood floor and start frantically worming backward until I hit the wall.

I can hear John cursing, coming closer. I wipe my eyes but my hands feel numb and the effort is feeble. I still can't see shit and I can feel John leaning over me, just before he kicks me in the ribs with every bit of strength he has.

It hurts so damn much, my mouth floods with a fresh flow of blood. I just fucking know something is broken, but all my brain chooses to focus on is my renewed zest to fight back. I weakly cross my arms in front of my body, but that hardly protects me from the incoming blows. My only saving grace is that John seems to be getting winded from the excruciating effort and the force of his assault dwindles.

Chapter 12

The restaurant looks trashed, but at least the fire is under control. The damage is not severe, and the insurance will cover it all.

What happened?

Well, Andre happened.

After losing our pumpkins, he stubbornly refused to admit any fault and scrambled to secure other decorations, ordering electrical plastic jack-o’-lanterns instead. Online. From God knows where. It only took two seconds of them being plugged into the grid for the damage to be done.

I should be more invested in what’s going on, but I’m worried I’ve left Anthony alone in the middle of the night.

The storm outside is picking up. When I left our home, the skies were clear. He will be absolutely horrified if he wakes up from the roaring thunder.