by V.K. Sykes
* * *
Holly whirled toward the sound, racing from the kitchen into the hall. There she froze, her heart thudding as adrenaline flooded her body. For a few seconds, her mind refused to register what her eyes saw.
Lance Arnold—Lance Arnold picking himself up off the hallway floor. He’d hurtled through the door leading inside from the garage. Half off its hinges, the door must have rebounded off the wall, knocking him down.
She knew instantly there was only one way out for her—through the back door. But she also knew she’d never make it. By the time she got the key for the deadbolt and undid the safety chain, Arnold would be all over her.
Panting, she raced back into the kitchen and reached for the phone. She managed to get her hand around it and press “9”, but Arnold slapped her arm so hard that the phone flew across the kitchen counter. As she started to scream, he clamped a hand around her mouth.
Holly’s scream died, muffled by his sweaty palm. Pain from his slap radiated into her shoulder. Grunting, she twisted her body and stomped her heel against his foot. But he barely reacted. She realized that he had some kind of work boots on and hadn’t even felt her pathetic effort.
“I told you we’d be meeting soon,” he snarled in her ear. His breath stank of alcohol, and his stiff stubble rasped against the soft skin of her cheek. One meaty arm clamped hard around her waist, something cold—metallic—pushing up under her shirt against her skin.
Holly struggled to free herself, but Arnold’s weight and strength overwhelmed her. He drove her forward, pinning her body against the counter. She jerked in pain when her hip bone made contact with the granite, but he held her immobile. His hand pressed down hard on her mouth, and his pelvis and thighs drove hard against her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t bite his hand—couldn’t even get off a kick. She was no weakling, but his brute strength terrified her with its raw, animal power.
Horrifying scenarios flashed through her mind at lightning speed—all of them bad. All ended with her dead, probably raped and brutalized. Whatever happened, Arnold was going to kill her. He was insane, but not crazy enough to ever let her go in one piece after this.
“Listen, bitch,” he growled. “If you let out even one tiny sound without my say-so, you’ll be dead before anybody but me hears it.” He paused for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Holly.
“Okay, I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth now, so remember what I said. You scream, you die. Got it?”
Holly nodded her head as best she could. Arnold slid his hand away from her mouth and took a step back. Holly turned slowly, and found herself face to face with a big, black gun. Arnold, laughing, held the barrel high, just inches from her face. She swallowed the bile in her throat as her head swam.
Taking a deep, shaking breath, she tried the only gambit her terrified brain could come up with. “My boyfriend’s just gone out to the Seven-Eleven on the corner. He’ll be back any minute,” she said, her voice quavering.
Pathetic.
Arnold laughed, his alcohol-flushed face going even redder. “God, you really think I’m stupid, don’t you, Miss High and Mighty Doctor? I know the hero’s been staying here, but he’s pitching up in Canada tonight. Any idiot who can read a newspaper knows that.”
His lips peeled back in a vicious, leering grin, and Holly knew she was dead. She began to sweat heavily, moisture slicking what felt like her entire body.
Arnold butted the gun barrel against her forehead, and she almost puked. Somehow, she managed to hold on.
Think. Delay. Do something!
“What do you hope to accomplish by this?” she croaked. “Other than making your little boy a virtual orphan when you go to prison?”
He pulled the gun away from her face and lowered it to her breasts, shoving it in between them. When his gaze followed the gun down there, her knees weakened, and she had to lean heavily into the counter. His breath came harder now, and he actually licked his lips as he leered at her body. Tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She didn’t dare show him any weakness.
“I don’t care anymore,” he finally growled. “My life is shit. It’s always been shit. You know what it’s like to have a kid like mine?”
“Yes, I do. I see it every day,” she said. She might die for it, but she wouldn’t let him off the hook.
He grunted, then ran the tip of the barrel down her left breast and over her nipple. When she shuddered, her gave her a malicious grin.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You fucking doctors. You screw around with the kid for a week or two, then you dump him back on me and I’ve got to deal with all the shit. When you told me about the valve thing, I thought maybe this time he wouldn’t make it. Maybe I’d finally be free. Maybe the kid and I would both be free.” His expression turned bitter, angry. “It ain’t like it wouldn’t be better for the kid, too.”
The kid. He couldn’t even call his child by his name.
Holly firmed her voice. “Don’t try to rationalize your sick agenda, Arnold. Tyler deserves every chance he can get to live. You don’t get to make that decision for him.”
Blood rushed to his face. “No, because you made it for him.” He yanked her against him, rubbing his crotch against her pelvis. “And now you’re going to pay for that. You’re going to pay big time.”
She jerked and struggled, frantic to get away from the disgusting feel of him, but he brought the gun up and, with a short stroke, slapped the barrel into the side of her head. She screamed and staggered as pain lanced through her skull.
Arnold’s face distorted with rage and he shook her shoulder with his left hand. “Keep your fucking mouth shut! Next time you make a move like that, I’m going to knock you out cold.”
That might be a blessing. Part of her wanted to provoke him and get it over with. But something stronger made her keep her mouth shut.
“But that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” he said with a sickening leer, pushing his erection between her thighs.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just stay silent and let him have his way. “You fucking bastard,” she snarled. “I’ll fight you every step of the way. And I’ll kill you if I get the chance.”
His eyes gleamed like an animal’s. “Well, then, it looks like we’re going to have ourselves some fun, Doc. As much as we can before I have to kill you.”
She struggled against his grip, trying to kick out at him even though his body pinned her against the counter. “You son of a bitch,” she shrieked. “You murdering son of a bitch!”
“I’ve been called worse,” he said. “Now, where are your fucking car keys? We’re going for a ride.”