I try to swing the lamp again, but this time she’s prepared and able to grab hold of the base, tugging it away from me. Letting go so she’s unable to drag me into her, I transfer the knife to my right hand and lift it.
“Don’t come any closer,” I pant, and her eyes fill with hatred.
“I knew I should have just killed you.” She lifts the lamp over her head and comes at me on a scream, since I’m just outside the doorway of the bathroom, I step to the side before she can hit me, and she ends up stumbling into the room, catching herself on the edge of the bed. With her back to me, I kick out at her, trying to push her over, but it doesn’t work, and I’m unprepared for her to spin around with the lamp and knock the knife out of my hand.
I look to where it lands on the floor a few feet away, and her eyes go to it as well, right before we both dive for it, crashing into each other. I slide across the carpet, and my fingertips touch the blade, then I yell when she grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back. I reach behind me and dig my fingernails into her arm through the paper-like material covering her, hearing her hiss, and she pulls harder on my hair, causing pain to radiate through my scalp.
“Get off me,” I yell as she attempts to slam my face into the ground, then I buck up to try to dislodge her, but she’s heavy—really fricking heavy—and my body is weak. When she tries to reach over me for the knife and almost touches it, I roll to my side, taking her with me and sending her to the ground.
I try to roll back to get the knife again, but before I can, she grabs my hair once more. Crying out, I ignore the pain in my head and stretch my arm out toward the knife, my fingers brushing the handle, causing it to move just out of reach once more. Before I can stretch for it again, her hand wraps around my throat from behind, and she tugs back so hard that my throat aches. I give up and turn toward her quickly so that she can’t strangle me, and I reach for her face. Which is stupid, and I know it’s stupid when she uses that opportunity to straddle my chest and wrap both her hands around my neck, putting all her weight into the hold she has on my throat. I buck, kick, try to scratch her face and arm, and tear at her with my hand that is free, but she’s relentless, and I’m getting weaker by the second from the loss of blood or the hit to the head. I don’t know which, or maybe it’s both.
Staring into her blue eyes that seem void of all human compassion, I open my mouth, wanting to plead with her to stop, but no words come out. My arm trapped under her weight feels along my side, and my fingers twitch. That’s when I feel the thick braided cord attached to my leggings. My fingers fumble as I try to grasp it, then my nail hooks, and I pull.
Just like in Vegas the night Malo showed me his invention, a loud shrieking sound fills the room, and like he said would happen, the woman startles, and her hands on my neck release almost instantly as she goes to cover her ears.
I drag in a much-needed breath of air, then shove her off me with one hand, using all the strength I have. She flies back off balance with a stunned expression on her face, and I don’t hesitate to reach behind me for the knife on the floor. But I don’t have a chance to grab it before she realizes the siren sound is coming from my pants and that there is no one here but us.
Like a wild animal, she comes at me in a rush, her body crashing into mine, sending my head bouncing off the floor. Stars dance in my vision, and bile crawls up the back of my throat when she straddles me once more, wrapping her hands around my neck. Then a crack of thunder reverberates though the room, and she screams out in agony, her weight knocking the air from my lungs as she falls forward against me. With the little energy I have left, I attempt to push her away so I can breathe, but it’s no use. I’m too exhausted; my muscles are no longer willing to cooperate.
As darkness starts to creep in, the weight on my chest is shoved aside, and a warm palm rests against the side of my face.