Chapter 2: Nowhere To Run
1628 Words
~ JESSICA ~
A knife. He was holding a knife.
My breath hitched in my throat as I took in the sharp blade gleaming in the man's hand. I tore my gaze from his hands and settled it on his face, only to realize that his cold eyes weren't fixed on my face but on my stomach. Fear gripped me, and I instinctively placed my hands protectively over my belly. The smirk that curled on his lips sent a chill down my spine, and I jerked when he took a step toward me.
"Who are you? What do you want?" I stammered, my voice trembling against my will. I didn't want to sound scared to this stranger, but my pounding heart betrayed my intentions. I took a cautious step back, desperate to put some distance between us. But he continued to advance, and I couldn't help but notice the dangerous glint in his eyes.
For some f****d-up reason, this situation was exciting him.
I had to act quickly. Survival instincts kicking in, I tried to slam the door shut, but he was too fast, too strong. His powerful shove sent me stumbling back into the house. Scrambling to my feet, I dashed toward the bedroom, adrenaline surging through my veins as I did.
My only thought was to get away, to find someplace safe so I could protect my baby.
The sound of his footsteps pounding behind me spurred me to run even faster. I burst into the bedroom, frantically trying to shut the door behind me. But he was right on my heels. With a swift kick, he sent the door crashing open. I let out a scream as I fell backward onto the bed.
I had to fight. I had to survive. So, as he lunged at me, I grabbed a nearby lamp and swung it at him with all my strength. The lamp shattered against his head, and he staggered back, blood trickling down his face. But the pain seemed only to fuel his rage.
I scrambled off the bed, trying to make a break for the door. But he was too quick. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me back, causing me to cry out in pain. Desperation gave me strength as I clawed at his face, managing to scratch him across the cheek. He roared in anger and threw me to the floor.
Gasping for breath, I kicked out at him, catching him in the shin. He stumbled, giving me a brief moment of hope, and I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my ankle and yanked me back. I twisted around, my fingers finding the edge of the bed frame, and with a surge of effort, I pulled myself up and kicked him square in the chest.
He flew back, crashing into the dresser. I made a dash for the door, but pain exploded in my leg as his knife sliced into my thigh. I screamed in agony, collapsing to the floor. The world spun around me, and I gasped as pain blurred my vision.
Then I felt his hand grip my arm, and I tried to struggle, but my body was too weak.
"No, please," I begged, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Why are you doing this?"
He didn't answer. The last thing I saw before darkness claimed me was his cold, unfeeling eyes staring down at me and his knife raised above his head.
---
I woke up in a place that reeked of dampness and decay, the air around me feeling cold and stale. My head throbbed with pain as I forced my eyes open, and then they widened when I saw my surroundings. The walls were lined with rusting metal sheets, and the deem light in the room came from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows around. I was lying on a dirty mattress on the floor, and my nose crunched when I realized it was surrounded by piles of discarded junk and debris.
I looked down at myself and groaned. My left thigh was throbbing with pain, and I could feel something like a bandage wrapped around my wound, barely holding back the bleeding. My clothes were torn and stained with blood, and my entire body ached from the earlier struggle. But despite the physical agony, my mind was alert. Fear was coursing through me, but I forced myself to stay calm and observe my surroundings. Every detail could be crucial if I found a way to escape.
I noted the rusted metal door, the only exit from the room. There were no windows, and the walls were lined with graffiti and old posters. The floor was littered with broken glass and scraps of metal, making it difficult to move without making noise. I strained to hear any sounds from outside, my heart pounding in my chest.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching. The door creaked open, and the intruder who had kidnapped me stepped inside. A moment later, the room was flooded with harsh light, blinding me temporarily. It took a minute, but my eyes adjusted, and I saw him clearly for the first time.
He looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen him before. He had a rugged, dangerous look, with dark hair slicked back and a scruffy beard. His eyes were cold and piercing, and his lips curled into a cruel smile. He wore a black leather jacket over a dark shirt and jeans, giving him an intimidating, almost menacing appearance. Just like the first time I saw him.
He moved towards me, and that was when I noticed the tray in his hands. He set it down roughly on a makeshift table near the mattress before commanding, "Eat."
I shook my head, ignoring the growling hunger in my stomach.
How long have I been out again?
"What am I doing here? Why did you kidnap me? What do you want?" I demanded in a determined tone, although in truth, I was trembling inside.
He chuckled darkly, and the sound that sent chills down my spine. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, his eyes glinting with something akin to amusement.
Refusing to let him intimidate me, I asked, "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"
His expression hardened, and he took a step toward me. "You really want to know?" he snarled. "Your husband, Harrison, is the one who asked me to take you. To torture you. And then, to kill you. But that would be after I have had my fun with you."
I stared at him in shock, unable to comprehend his words. "No... that can't be true. Harrison would never—"
He cut me off with a harsh laugh. "Oh, but he would. Harrison's been playing you, Jessica. He found out about your little visits to Dr. Johnson. He thinks you're having an affair. He doesn't love you. Never did. He just wanted to keep you around until he could get rid of you. And now that Edward Williams is dead, he can."
My mind reeled, trying to process what he was saying. "You're lying," I whispered, shaking my head. "Harrison would never do that. He is angry right now because he doesn't know the truth, but he will never do this to me."
The man sneered. "Think about it, Jessica. He accused you of being a gold-digger, didn't he? He had you followed. He knew about your visits to the doctor. He doesn't trust you. And when he found out you were pregnant, he decided it was the perfect time to get rid of you and the baby."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Harrison already knows about the pregnancy?
Then I remembered our fight earlier... his cold demeanor... the accusations... it all seemed to fit. But no, it couldn't be true. I couldn't believe it.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at the man before me. "Why are you doing this? Who are you?"
He leaned in close, his breath hot against my face. "Let's just say I'm a friend of your husband. And I'm here to make sure you and that baby never see the light of day again."
I felt a surge of terror and disbelief. How had my life come to this? How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly?
He straightened up and walked toward the door. "You better eat," he said, his voice dripping with menace. "It might be the last meal you and your baby get."
With that, he stepped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. I was left alone, the light bulb swinging slightly from the force of the door, casting shifting shadows across the room. I hugged my knees to my chest, feeling utterly devastated and shell-shocked.
My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything. Had Harrison really done this to me? The man’s words echoed in my mind, and despite my disbelief, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some truth to them. Harrison's behavior, his accusations, the sudden change in our relationship—it all pointed to something dark and sinister.
Tears streamed down my face as I rocked back and forth, trying to comfort myself. I had to stay strong. I had to find a way out of this nightmare. For my sake and for my baby’s. But the reality of my situation was crushing, and I felt a deep sense of betrayal and hopelessness.
How could Harrison do this to me? To us?
As the weight of my situation pressed down on me, I knew I had two choices: give up hope or wait and hope for a miracle.
- Writer
