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James comes at me slowly. His eyes don't leave mine. He stares directly at me, ignoring the sweat that drips off his nose. I back into the wall, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what he'll do to me.

He grabs my shirt and pulls me towards him. He starts kissing me, and not gently. When I try to push him away, he pushes me right on the floor.

"You know how much I had to deal with having you in the hospital? Having you in a coma? You kept me trapped in a relationship with someone I thought was going to die. I think you're a little bitch but gee, I really think I kind of loved you because of it." James steps on my chest so I can't get up. "You're tough. But never tough enough to get past me."

I try to release some of the pressure of his foot on my chest but I can't make any progress. My breath is short. I'm terrified. "Please, James, get off!"

He pushes on me harder. "You love Chris? That coward?" His sweat drips onto my face. His eyes are bulging and face is red with fury.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, full of fear.

    "If I can't have you, no one will!" James hisses. He pulls me up, then slams me into the wall. Comic books fall around me. I scream as he grabs my hair and drags me away from the wall.

"Stop!" I cry. "Please, I'll do anything!"

"Too late." James punches me in the gut and I lose my breath. "You had your chance. You never gave me what I wanted."

"You pig!" I screech at him, grabbing my knife and lunging towards him. I'm able to make contact with his chest. He barely stumbles back. It doesn't phase him at all. But it definitely makes him angrier. He knocks the knife from my hand and it goes sliding away from me.

"Shut up!" he starts throwing fists. Every hit sending another stream of pain throughout my entire body. Almost every muscle aches from trying to push him off and protect myself. Finally, after struggling for what seems like forever, I give up. I let him knee my ribs again. I let him slam me into the wall. My hands press against the wall and I slowly begin to slide down it, sinking to the floor.

"Fine," I say, pulling together as much of myself as I can. I have no weapon, and he does. A gun and his knife, which he seems to have forgot about because the gun is now in his hands.

I struggle to stand upright. If I'm going to die, I'm going to die with a fight. So I stare him down and start cursing and screaming at him.

James pauses, tilting his head sideways in question. It only lasts a second. He clicks off the safety.

"This is how you're going to do it?" I ask, noticing how strange his eyes are. Like they're beginning to glaze over. "Kill me and go back there? Tell them I was eaten alive, huh? No one will believe you. They already know you and my dad are turning."

James laughs. "Turning? We're just tired of people like you. Thinking you can do whatever. Thinking you can just find another guy. I can't believe you got the nerve to actually stand up to me. I guess you really did lose your memory if you don't remember the consequences you used to get."

"Your going to go on living like this? With the guilt dragging around your head like a lightning storm. Come on. Kill a defenseless girl. Kill me like you've killed others. Like my father has killed others. Do it. I'll be with a few friends. I'll be with my baby sister. I'll be a little happier, and I guess you will, too."

"You finished?" he asks, nudging my head with the tip of the pistol. "I said are you finished?!"

"I don't know, am I?" I ask. "Come on. Do it. Pull that trigger, James. Shoot me right here, right now."

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