Escaping to the Genius

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Turning the water off, Celeste stepped silently out of the shower. She could hear someone talking violently, like they were threatening someone. Spencer.

Her breath caught and she raced to her phone, calling Morgan. When he answered she hastily whispered, "Brent is in the apartment. Please come quickly."

"On my way." She could hear horns as he pulled a U-turn-probably an illegal one. Then she hung up and pulled on clothes, her heart beating wildly.

Thump thump. Thump thump. It was so loud she cringed; Brent might hear it. She took a deep breath and opened the door to her bathroom, then fluently moved around the door, avoiding being seen from the living room through her bedroom door. Mace. Where was her mace?

"Celeste," he called tauntingly, and she froze. "I know you're in there."

His words weren't slurred, but they held a tone that let Celeste know she'd been right; he wasn't drunk anymore, he was high.

"Come out now or I'll shoot Spencie in the head," he sang. Tears burst from behind her eyes. He would do it. His brother meant nothing to him when he wasn't sober.

"Stay back!" Spencer shouted, and then cried out. She stumbled back against the wall and slapped her hand over her mouth.

Elli. Elli had been brave enough to look a man in the eye. She could do it too. She could walk out there and stall Brent long enough for Morgan to get there.

After taking two more lungfuls of air, Celeste pushed off the wall and stumbled through her doorframe.

Brent. Seeing him again made her feel exposed, rejected, ignorant, and just plain stupid for thinking she could ever escape him. He was holding a gun.

On the floor kneeled Spencer, his hands behind his back. Tied, she guessed from the loose way he held his arms. Behind Spencer was another man. One that had been welcome to hurt her as well. She recognized him. If Brent had had any friends, that man would be at the top of the list. He had a gun trained solely on Spencer's head.

"Hello, Celeste," Brent said with a sick smile, walking over to her. She stumbled back and fell over. "Don't worry. I'll take you back home, and everything will be just like it was before. Perfect."

Her breathing raced, ragged and uneven. She glanced at Spencer to see if they'd hurt him, but all she saw was him staring apologetically at her. The man behind him kept sniffing and rubbing at his eyes, trying to get something out of them, something that had a strong smell. Spencer had grazed him with pepper spray, since his gun was too far away.

Spencer caught her eyes, his flicking to her left. The kitchen table. His gun was on the kitchen table. If she could get to it, she could have a chance at getting them out.

Brent was leaning over her. What was she supposed to do now? Suddenly her blood ran cold as polar ice and her breath caught. He was going to rape her again, right in front of Spencer.

No. She pulled her knee up, every muscle fighting against her, and kneed his crotch, rolling away and jumping to her feet. She dashed to the kitchen table and grabbed Spencer's gun.

Two against one. The man had a gun to Spencer, so if she shot Brent then he would shoot her dad. If she shot him, Brent would have to choose either to wound her or him. She aimed, and Brent punched her in the side, sending her flying to the wall.

She thought she heard a crack, but she could still breathe and move, so she didn't pay it any attention.

Now the wall of the kitchen was in the way of her seeing Spencer, and Brent grabbed her arm, dragging her back out to where he could see her or she could see him, she didn't know which. As he tossed her to the ground like a rag doll, she screamed. She had broken a rib.

"Celeste!" Spencer exclaimed. She rolled onto her back and laid one hand gently over the broken rib, but yanked her hand back.

"I want you to watch as I shoot your uncle in the head," Brent hissed at her.

"He's not my uncle," she spat back. The venom in her voice came not from fear, but from pain. She was using all those lost years against him, turning them into anger, so she could fight him.

She still had the gun in her hand, and had her hands shaken at all, she may have hit Spencer with her shot, but as it was, she hit the other man in the chest and he fell over, dead.

Brent put the gun to her temple and she narrowed her eyes, hissing, "You wouldn't shoot me. You want me alive."

He considered this. "Maybe so. But I don't need him alive."

One more gunshot. One more death.