Debt

46: Blood

Shayla agreed with him that it wasn't safe for them. Evan just shook his head.

"Why was I being so stupid, Ma?"

"Evan, you're not doing yourself no favors by putting yourself down. I want you to calm down and take a deep breath. You are no help to Larielle if you can't even keep your head. Breathe and think of your strategy. She's probably afraid enough for the both of you," she told him.

"Okay, Ma," he agreed, taking deep breaths. "I'll call you when Larielle is with me. I'm going to bring her to you."

"Okay, Evan."

They hung the phone up and Evan loosened his grip on the wheel, opening the center console, one eye on the road, the other on his pistol. He pulled it out and released the wheel for a second as he reached for the bullet clip and loaded the pistol. If anything happened, hell even if nothing had happened, someone would die today. And that was guaranteed.

***

Larielle woke up in a dark room tied up and naked. She tried to concentrate on what was going on, but she was dizzy and felt numb. It felt like someone was on top of her. She groaned, rolling her head.

A hand grabbed her face. "Lari," a male's voice cooed. She groaned, her mouth dry, her head throbbing. Maybe it was Evan. "Lari..."

Sensation began to come back to her, and she realized that someone was not only on top of her, but inside of her, thrusting in and out of her. And Evan would never take it while she was asleep. She began trying to fight.

"I'll teach you to give my pussy away," Pablo sneered at her, forcefully ramming himself into her. She tried to get away from him, tried to get him off her. But he just held her down. He held her wrists above her head, watching her cry. "Why you wanna cry now, bitch? You didn't cry when you fucked Evan and let him get you pregnant. You didn't cry then, did you, you fucking whore!" he spit in her face.

Larielle just squeezed her eyes shut, trying to take her mind away from her body, searching for a place of happiness where this wasn't happening to her. She prayed for her unborn's life. If this baby died, they might as well kill her too. She wouldn't make it.

Pablo's assault didn't stop with the spit, and Larielle couldn't free herself to defend from the attack. He got up and poured his seed all over her face before kicking her in the stomach. "Your fucking baby deserves to die, you whore!"

Larielle began to sob curling in a ball to protect her unborn. Her baby didn't deserve to die. Her baby was innocent and had come from love. She loved this baby and Evan loved this baby, and they were preparing a home for him or her. And she didn't want that taken away from her. This baby deserved its first breath.

"Stop!" she pleaded with her ex. "Please, Pablo, stop!"

The thought alone of losing this baby was killing her slowly. No woman should ever have to worry about her child being ripped away from her before it even got to breathe. No woman should ever have to feel that type of pain.

Everything got bright after that as she heard the door being kicked open, and Evan shot Pablo in the knee before he had a chance to see it coming. He wasn't going to give this nigga no chance to find a weapon.

Pablo went down in a cry of pain. When Evan saw Larielle, covered in blood, semen, and spit, he just about turned the gun on himself for having allowed her to be put in this situation in the first place. That was hard for him to see, knowing that he hadn't been there to protect her. As her husband, it made him feel like a failure. For failing to protect her.

He pulled a pocket knife out and began to cut the zip ties on her wrists and ankles. "I'm so sorry, Larielle," he told her, his voice thick with emotion while Pablo sat there in searing pain, yelling threats and obscenities. When Evan got Larielle untied, she threw her arms around him, crying into his shoulder.