Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Shut up,” Elliot yells, shaking me like I’m nothing but a ragdoll. “I’m the one with the gun. You don’t get to make demands. If you need motivation to obey, I can give you some, starting with a body part I’ll carve off your wife. How about an ear? Or maybe I’ll begin with her nose.”
Violence glitters in Leon’s eyes, but he replies in a placating tone. “That won’t be necessary.” Lowering himself into the nearest chair, he continues, “I’ll do what you want.”
If not for me, Leon would’ve taken Elliot out already. Elliot knows Leon’s weakness. He knew even before I did. I’ve just been too blind to notice.
“Get to fucking work, Gia.” Elliot’s spittle lands on my cheek. “I won’t tell you again. And if you do a shit job, I’ll cut off your daughter’s fingers one by one until those cables are so tight it cuts off his blood flow.”
My mom shakes so badly she doesn’t get a grip on the cord.
“It’s okay,” Leon says to my mom, placing his elbows on the armrests of the chair. “You’ve got this, Gia.”
Sniffing through her tears, my mom squares her shoulders. She uses one cable to tie Leon’s wrists to the armrests, wrapping the long cord first around one and then around the other wrist, before doing the same with his ankles.
Once he’s secured, she straightens, waiting for Elliot’s instruction with loathing burning in her gaze.
“Good,” Elliot says, aiming the gun at Leon’s chest. “Now you’re going to die knowing I’m going to kill these bitches slowly.”
It’s the moment I’ve been waiting for. The second he moves the gun away from my head, I elbow him in the stomach with all the strength I possess. The blow is hard enough to knock out his wind. The force of it makes him fold double. Before he has time to recover, I interlace my fingers and slam the sides of my palms on his elbow. His arm collapses, the gun hanging at his side, but he doesn’t drop the weapon like I hoped.
I always won our physical fights as children. Despite the fixator that limited my movements, I got the last punch in every time. The knowledge gives me power. Swinging my fist, I punch him in the hollow in the center of his ribs. He grunts, but he still doesn’t ease his grip on the gun.
Somewhere in the background, Leon calls my name. The sound comes to me like a distant echo through the blood that gushes in my ears. I block out his voice. If I listen to him, I’ll lose my focus. If I think about the bullet in his body, my fear will make me weak.
Using the heel of my sneaker, I kick the gun from Elliot’s hand. It falls on the floor and glides a short distance away. I dive for the weapon, but a sharp pain that tears into my scalp stops my momentum. Elliot has grabbed hold of my hair, using the long strands to reel me in. I fight like an animal, swinging my elbows and kicking my feet. My wild wrestling puts him on the defense. He protects his stomach and ribs with one arm while fisting his hand so tightly in my hair my eyes water.
“No,” my mother shouts, grabbing a marble ashtray from the coffee table.
Rushing over the floor, she smacks Elliot with the ashtray on the head. He utters a curse and backhands her hard enough to make her take a few steps to the side, the ashtray falling from her hand. My mom shakes her head like someone who’s disoriented.
Doubling his efforts, Elliot manages to grab my throat in his free hand. When he squeezes, I cease to breathe.
Leon strains in his bonds. “Violet!”
From the corner of my eye, I see my mom jumping on Elliot. She fights like a hellcat, trying to pull him off me. Her outraged cries echo in the room as she locks her ankles around his waist, kicking me in the process. He stumbles back, almost losing his balance. When he flails his arms to regain his footing, I twist out of his hold.
For a moment, all I can do is drag air into my lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen makes me lightheaded. I blink to focus my eyes. My mom has her arms wrapped around Elliot’s neck, strangling him. Before I can act, he smashes his elbows into her ribs. Her grip slackens. The next blow sends her flying backward. Her body hits the wall, her head bouncing off the bricks before she slumps into a heap on the floor.
“Mom!”
Ugly violence boils up inside me. Survival instinct and rage fuel my body. My lungs still burn as I sprint across the floor. My limp counts against me, my legs betraying me as my hip gives out and I go down. I catch myself on my hands and knees. Pain shoots into my wrists and kneecaps. My heart pumps so furiously it hurts. I crawl over the floor on all fours, looking over my shoulder through a veil of hair to assess the danger.