Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
I raise my voice very little to Reece, I know better, but right now I’m drunk and that is taking away a whole lot of my control. This is exactly why I don’t drink. I lose my wits. I am not as stable as I’d like to be and right now, I’m scared, and I just want this man out of my damned house. Once and for all.
Reece steps forward, taking my arm roughly. “Who is he?”
“Reece, let me go. You’re supposed to be keeping your hands to yourself, remember?”
“Who. The. Fuck. Is. He?”
God.
“I said nobody,” I say, trying to jerk my arm out of his grips.
“Fuckin’ man been inside you, five minutes after you ended it with me.”
I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I know now that he hasn’t had just one or two. He’s drunk. I’m drunk. This is a very, very dangerous situation.
“Let me go, please.”
“Did he put his cock in you?” he barks into my face.
He shoves his hand toward my jeans, and a fight erupts. I try to push him away but it’s no use, he’s so damned strong and I’m way too drunk. He shoves his hand down the front of my jeans and into my panties, roughly handling me with his other hand. “Let me go!” I scream, trying to jerk backward.
He pulls his hands from my panties and brings his fingers up to his face. “I can smell it, you fucking slut! Not even five minutes.”
Sick.
Sick and deranged.
This man is never going to change.
He’s always going to be dangerous.
Always going to be a monster.
I need to get my son and myself out of his life.
“You let me go, now,” I bellow, jerking my arm free. “We’re done. You’re sick and you need help. I’m finished with you, Reece, and if you so much as lay another hand on me, I’ll take Jayden too.”
I don’t know it when I say those words, but I know it the moment they’ve left my lips that I made a very, very big mistake.
Reece’s fist flies out and connects with my chest, sending me spiralling backward until I slam into a coffee table. I stumble a few times, heart racing, and try to scurry backward as he stalks toward me. He leans down, taking a fistful of my hair and he jerks me upward. My mind spins and my body recoils as pain shoots through my chest, agony I haven’t felt for such a long time. “Reece, please,” I scream. “Stop.”
“You fuckin’ bitch. You won’t threaten me. You will not take my son.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I was just angry.”
He punches me again, this time right into my rib cage. Hand in my hair, other hand slamming into my body over and over until I’m screaming, begging him to stop, begging him to just make it stop. My ribs feel like they’re broken, I can’t breathe, the pain in my body is so intense I feel like I might very well die here tonight.
“Reece,” I whisper when he lets me go and throws me onto the floor. “Please. Stop. Please, I’m begging you. Think of Jayden.”
He pauses midway down as he’s reaching for me again, his eyes flash and then widen. He straightens, stares at me, and I can see the moment the demon goes back into its cage and the man I once loved comes back out. He stares at me in shock and horror, like he’s just seen me for the first time, like he has no idea who just did that to me.
I shuffle backward, agony ripping through my body. I feel like I’m going to die.
I want to die.
God, I just can’t take this anymore.
“Zariah ...”
“Get out of my house,” I stammer, staring at him with fear in my gaze.
I’m afraid of him.
He knows I’m afraid of him.
He also knows I’m weak when it comes to him.
Why don’t I fight?
Why am I so damned pathetic?
I’m not sure I’ll ever have that answer.
I do know that I need to escape. I need to find a way to free myself from this man.
Because next time, he will kill me.
I can’t let that happen.
“Why don’t you fight back?” he asks, his voice low and pained. “Why don’t you stop me, Zariah? You know you can. Why don’t you? Why do you let me keep hurting you? Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”
“I don’t fight back because I’m not a god damned monster like you,” I rasp, chest crackling in a way that’s a little concerning.
My answer doesn’t shock me, but it feels like finally something makes sense. All the times he’s hurt me, and I’ve cowered and allowed it, I’ve often wondered to myself why. Why do I let a man hurt me, when I’m fully capable of making him stop? Why do I not fight him, when I can take full men down on the streets? I’m afraid, sure, there’s no doubt about that. I’ve always been afraid that if I fought back, it would escalate the situation, but that never seemed to be a good enough reason.