Page 180 of Under Your Scars

Then I fire a shot.

Into the mattress above his head.

“I’m not a killer, Frank, but I’m going to enjoy watching him kill you.”

With Frank secured to the bedframe and the masked imposter still absent, I find a few short hours of sleep before the sun comes up. It was restless, and every small noise woke me up, but it was sleep, nonetheless.

In the morning, I find the TV remote hidden under the mattress and flip on the ancient, boxy screen and scroll until I find a local news station.

It brings me a small comfort that I’m still in Meridian City, because I recognize the station. What’s on the screen takes my breath away.

Helicopter footage shows the unprecedented carnage Christian has inflicted on the city in the few hours I’ve been gone. It looks like an active war zone.

Black smoke rises from the streets and skyscrapers in thick plumes. Police cruisers are upside down and smashed in. Looters are running around with crowbars.

Traffic is backed up, circling the entire island. Three of the four bridges leading off the island are disintegrated. He blew them up.

God,I love it when he’s unhinged.

As the news coverage plays in the background, I pace around the room in a small circle trying to think of a plan before the imposter comes back.

All I have to defend myself with is a gun with no bullets. I take it and tuck it into the waistband of my leggings.

When I have my back turned to Frank, I hear him yell, and then my vision goes black when I’m hit in the back of the head and tossed to the floor.

I scream and flip over onto my back, kneeing him in the nuts and pushing him off me. My eyes catch on his restraints. He’s chewed through the zip-ties on his wrists to get them free, but his legs are still bound together.

I’m able to move freely, but I only have so much space to run around in this tiny room. While he’s catching his breath from being hit in the groin, I bang on the door of the room and beg for someone’s help.

No one comes.

I pull the gun from my waistband and go to plan Z. When Frank approaches me again, I use it as a bludgeoning tool as best I can.

He’s old, but he’s still a lot stronger than I am, and once he catches my wrist, it’s game over. Blood is streaming down his face from where I got a few hits in, but he’s still coming for me.

He grabs me by the throat and slams me into the window hard enough to shatter it with my body.

“Bitch!”

I cry out in pain as glass shards dig into my head and back, but I’m in pure survival mode and grab one of the shards with my bare hands. The shape of it is awkward, and as I hold it, it does more harm to my hands than it does to Frank when I shove it into his gut. He staggers back a little, but his hands don’t let up on my throat.

I stab again, not aiming for anywhere in particular, managing to get him in the temple. He loosens his grip on me enough to send us both toppling to the floor.

As I’m catching my breath, I feel Frank grab me before he flips me onto my back and tries to pin me down by my wrists. I’m kicking and screaming and we’re both covered in each other’s blood, but I fight. I fight with all my strength.

And then there’s a gunshot, and things go still. I freeze when Frank’s blood drips onto my face from the wound in his forehead. His dead body falls limp on top of me and I push him off, flipping onto my stomach and catching my breath before looking up to find the imposter staring down at me with, dare I say,concernin his eyes.

He approaches me slowly, squatting down near me and tenderly grabbing my hand. He observes the cut from the glass.

“You need stitches,” he mumbles. “Don’t move.”

When he stands up and turns his back to me, I stand up too, and with every ounce of strength I have left in my body, I jump onto his back, and like a rabid animal, I start biting and clawing.

I won’t stop until I’m free.

Or dead.

CHAPTER 56