Page 113 of Wrecked

I scream at the highest pitch imaginable, praying a neighbor will hear me. He throws a hand over my mouth. I jab him in the eyes with two fingers and start running. I make it to the living room, throwing dining room chairs onto the floor. I leap over the couch and try to make it to the back door when Nico jumps on top of me and pulls me down.

“You little bitch.” He slaps me in the face.

It’s forceful and powerful, and the wind is knocked out of my lungs. I squeeze my eyes shut as the sting travels across my entire body.

He climbs on top of me, pinning my body and wrists with his full weight. I start to cry, the powerlessness overwhelming me. The harder I try to fight, the stronger his hold becomes.

He takes out a switchblade. The sound of the metal upon metal as the knife springs to life makes me stop my fight. My eyes widen, but I can barely see through them from the tears that are filling the insides.

“Keep your eyes open. I wouldn’t want you to miss this.”

He holds the knife to my throat. The cold, sharp tip pokes my skin.

He has both my wrists in one hand as he trails the knife down my throat, letting the edge dig into my skin. It travels down my breastbone, over my stomach, and rests in between my legs.

“It’s either me or the knife.” He pushes into the fabric. I can feel the steel on skin. “Which is it going to be?”

I start to cry. Billowing heavy tears fall down my face. I don’t want to say either.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I pray hard enough, this misery will just end. I pray to the only person I know who might actually hear my prayer.

I think of his dark hair and beautiful pictures. Of a boy who wrote gorgeous words on pieces of paper and how those words now reside over houses for people who deserve better than the life they were handed. I pray to the boy who sang rap songs in the mirror and who told me he loved me over a slice of pizza. I pray to the boy who took a bad batch of drugs and died before he had a chance to live.

“Please, Brad. Help me,” I breathe out.

“Praying to the dead? That just makes this all the more perfect.” He traces the knife over my face. “This mouth, it was the death of him.” The edge glides over the Cupid’s bow. “Right here, he couldn’t get it right. Wanted something to open his horizons. I gave it to him.” Nico laughs an evil, deep laugh that can only belong to the devil himself. “Sent him right over the horizon to the next world.”

“Just kill me,” I say, the taste of metallic on my tongue.

“You don’t mean it.”

I don’t, but the alternative is far worse. “I’d rather be mutilated and die than be raped by you.”

This is clearly not the answer Nico was looking for. His lip curls up, baring his teeth. He takes the knife and harshly runs it down the center of my jumpsuit, ripping the fabric.

He might choose to kill me later. First, he’s going to murder my soul.

I don’t care that he has a knife in his hand. I fight back. Kicking my knees up and pushing up on my hands. His grip is still too much, his body mass twice the size of mine. No amount of adrenaline is going to help me win, but I won’t quit. He has his hands on my clothes, tearing them off, when I hear the front door slam open, followed by heavy footsteps and the loud yell of Adam as he comes in, a man ready for vengeance.

Nico’s body is thrown off me, and Adam is quickly on top of him. His fists are flying in Nico’s face. I push back with my heels and back away, clenching my clothes back over my body. I crawl to the side table and grab the phone, dialing 911.

I listen as the operator answers, “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

Adam is punching Nico in the face. His nose is gushing blood as Adam’s rage-filled fists collide with his cheek, his nose, his jaw, his ear.

I forgot about the knife and, when I remember, I become so shocked that I can’t say a word. Nico grabs for it.

I can’t speak to the operator because my brain is busy finding my voice, and when I do, all I can say is, “Knife.”

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

It’s too late. Nico’s hand pushes up, the knife driving deep into Adam’s stomach.

“No!” I cry.

“We have your address and are dispatching a team to you. Are you still there?”

Nico is bruised and bloodied, but he’s able-bodied. He pushes Adam off of him and takes off.