Page 132 of The Monster I Am
I turn and run.
My heart pounds as his footsteps give chase down the alleyway. I just need to get back to the main street or the coffee shop. Anywhere public to escape this lunatic.
A yelp explodes from my mouth as I’m crash tackled from behind, slamming into the concrete ground painfully.
Quickly, I try to spin around to free my arms, throwing them blindly in his direction as I twist. I manage to connect with the side of his head, Elliott letting out a pained grunt and toppling off my body.
The knife clatters on the ground and I make an attempt at diving for it, fingers brushing the handle as I try to snatch it up. Before I can wrap my hand around, my head is ripped back fast, Elliott’s dirty fingers digging into my scalp as he yanks my hair hard.
The force flattens me on the ground, air whooshing out of my lungs. I manage to break my fall with my elbow, a sharp sting and throb making me whine. Blood drizzles down my forearmfrom the broken skin, but there’s no time to assess the injury as Elliott jumps back on top of me.
“You’re feisty,” he points out, cackling before adding in a sing-song tone. “Now I see why everyone is obsessed with you.”
He straddles my thighs, reaching for my arms. I throw a punch as best as I can from this angle, knuckles smashing into his cheek. Elliott just laughs harder, maniacally, while grabbing my wrists painfully and slamming them above my head.
I let out a pained cry from the awkward angle he’s holding me in, body screaming like my elbow and shoulder joints are on the verge of dislocating.
“Sshh,” he whispers, a demented look washing over his features as he leans forward. “You’re being a little loud, baby girl.”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I shout, taking a quick, deep breath. “Help!”
Smack.
My head whips sideways as Elliott backhands me across the face, not holding back. Little flashes of light explode behind my eyes as my vision swims for a few seconds, nausea threatening to bring up my coffee.
I quickly shake it off, no stranger to taking face hits thanks to all of the cage fights. I lurch into immediate action, throwing my upper half toward him with all my strength, attempting to put him off balance. It works, his hands releasing my wrists as he flails, searching for stability.
I follow it with another punch, this time straight into his nose. Relief floods through me at the sound of the loud crack that follows, blood spurting down his face.
He’s still on top of me, further down my legs, and I crawl backwards, ignoring the sharp shooting pain in my hands as I try to get free.
Elliott propels forward, chest smashing into mine which causes my arms to give out. The back of my head makes a cracking noise as it slams into the ground, and I freeze completely, the feel of cool metal pressing against my throat.
“You’re being a little difficult, Bexley,” he tsks disapprovingly before a creepy grin spreads back over his face. “It’s turning me on a little.”
He rocks his hips to illustrate, and I choke back a sob when his stiff erection rubs against my crotch suggestively.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit out, voice breaking.
Elliott drags the blade slowly across my neck, applying a tiny amount of pressure. It’s not enough to slice the skin open, but it burns, threatening to split with sickly promise.
He creeps forward, holding the blade steady against my throat. Letting out a breathy groan on my cheek, he grinds his pelvis into me. “I wish I could keep you,” he purrs before running his tongue up the side of my face. “I just can’t afford their asking price.”
Vomit rises up my esophagus. “What are you talking about?” I ask shakily, panic-stricken.
He hums thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s still a little time to break in the goods,” he whispers to himself psychotically, placing his hand on my breast and groping me hard.
A sob finally claws its way out of my soul, but he halts suddenly, huffing in annoyance as something catches his attention. He lifts his head, the blade easing slightly against my throat, as gravel crunches down the alleyway with the sound of an approaching car.
Please help me.
I scrunch my eyes shut, silently pleading that whoever it is will help me. When a car door opens and footsteps begin walking over, I dare a glance.
A shadow falls across us, and my heart beats rapidly in relief at the sight of the familiar face, a tear rolling down the side of my cheek as I let out a shaky breath.
I’m going to be okay. He’ll save me.
“What did you do to her?” He asks, shooting Elliott an irked glare.
