There wasn’t a thing in this world that existed that could prepare you for a moment like the one I was in. Facing down a murderer, a psychopath, a pedophile and a stalker, all in one, while knowing full well you were the only thing he wanted.
“What are you doing in my house?” I questioned, shocking myself at the amount of calmness as I was able to procure.
Henry Thompson spread his arms out. “I thought it would be a fitting end, don’t you think? Circling right back to where it all started.”
I was aware Sam’s eyes didn’t leave me. I took a step further into the room. “You are a sick man, Henry Thompson.”
His eyes flashed. “So I take it you know, now. Goodie. That cuts about twenty minutes of wasted time explaining everything.”
Another step. Sam continued watching me carefully. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here?”
“I can do that.” He turned toward me. I saw the hilt of a knife sticking out of his jeans. “You, Elsie Holliday, have been eluding me for nearly a decade.”
I swallowed hard. Now’s not the time chicken out, Els. “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” He neared me, moving away from Sam. I saw him discretely struggling with his bonds, trying to evade them. Our eyes locked and in that split second he told me everything I needed to know: Don’t do anything stupid.
Right.
“You are mine, Elsie Holliday. Mine forever.”
There was such a difference between Sam saying it—the man I had given my heart to—and a perverted psychopath saying it. When Sam said such a thing to me, it made me believe in all the decent things of the world. That good things really could happen to all kinds of people.
But when Henry said it?
I just wanted to throw up. Preferably on him.
Sam looked like he was making some headway with his bonds. He just needed a few more seconds of distraction. I licked my lips and returned my attention to Henry, dismayed when his eyes weren’t staring at my face, but fixated lower. Seriously? Had the guy no shame?
“You made my life hell,” I told him flatly.
His eyes drew back up to mine. He reached out a hand and caressed the side of my face. I forced myself not to empty the contents of my stomach all over him.
“Don’t touch her,” Sam growled murderously from behind me. His uncle didn’t turn around, but a mischievous smile curved his lips.
“Why not, dear nephew? Did you fall in love with little Elsie, here?” his hand lowered to my collarbone. My skin crawled. “Does another man touching her drive you crazy?”
Alright. It was final. Sam’s family was completely messed up.
I raised my hand to knock his away when he started encroaching upon dangerous territory, but he captured it in the other and wrenched it painfully over my head, shoving me into the wall. My breath left me in an agonizing whoosh, fear swarming back in.
His eyes penetrated into me, piercing my very soul. I was helpless, every movement I made causing fiery pain to burn through my shoulder. I bit my tongue when he moved his fingers beneath my shirt, letting them travel up, up, up . . . Too far.
He groaned, getting off on his sadistic need. “This—this is what I never got,” he gasped, rubbing himself against me. “You were meant for me, Elsie.” He tugged greedily at my bra, trying to yank it out of place.
YOU ARE READING
Bruises
General Fiction(TH#3)“'If you can look me in the eye and tell me anybody has ever held you like this, kissed you like this, loved you like this, then I will let you go. I will leave and I will never come back.' And as much as I wanted to say that, yes, someone els...
