Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

With trembling hands, I pulled the dress over my head. I just stood there, grateful to be covered, fighting tears that begged to trail down my cheeks.

“Dry your hair. Can’t have you getting sick.”

Chapter Nineteen

Please Don't Go

Harper

Wearing the very outfit I wanted Callum to see me in first, John dragged me out the crap motel door and into the freezing cold.

“Where are we going?” I asked without thinking.

“I didn’t tell you you could talk, Harper,” he said, suddenly and inexplicably angry slamming me against the door after he shut and locked it, unexpectedly surprising me.

His eyes seethed as he stared into my face. I inhaled sharply as John cupped my right breast and squeezed hard, making me yelp in pain. His eyes softened slightly and he grabbed the back of my neck, bringing me close.

“Why do you make me do these things to you?” He asked grittily.

My mouth gaped slightly and I furrowed my brows slightly. “I haven’t made you do anything. As much as I loathe to admit it, you’re the one in control. Does it make you feel like a man forcing a woman to do things she doesn’t want to only because she can’t defend herself?”

This was a mistake. The second it started spilling from my lips, I knew it was a mistake and he showed me why by slapping me harshly across the face. I brought my hand up to ease the sting. Tears burned behind my lids.

“I’m sorry, Harper,” he said, removing my hand and rubbing his thumb across the red mark he only just placed on my cheek. I was revolted by him. He caressed the side of my face with a tenderness that made me uneasy. “You told me you would cooperate.”

“I-I...” I began to stammer but he cut me off by squeezing my jaw roughly, the direct antithesis to his previous gentleness, giving me emotional whiplash. “A promise is a promise, bitch.”

I nodded, convinced I wasn’t going to live out the evening.

“I want to show you something first,” he said, pinching my upper arm between his meaty hand and squeezing hard, practically dragging me toward a waiting taxi. “Get in,” he ordered, shoving me into the backseat.

“Twelve-twenty-seven First,” he told the driver, making my throat run instantly dry. Ames’ address. John leaned into my ear, his hot breath against my neck. “I think you need a little reminder.”

He nestled me closely to his side and I gagged from the proximity. The driver was eyeing us strangely through the rear view. John suddenly leaned forward, banging his hand against the Plexiglas separation.

“Get a good look at my wife, old man?” He bellowed, making the man jump.

The man only steered his eyes toward the road, not looking at us once for the remainder of the trip.

“Get out,” John said, when we pulled up to a beautiful old building near the pier. He paid the driver and the man peeled away, desperate to get away from us. Thanks, old man.

Ames’ home looked exactly like he had described it in his letters. A five story building of old architecture. It reminded me a lot of our own building back home. Ames’ flat was on the second floor, right above a coffee shop. I stupidly wondered if the noise was tolerable during the day but was abruptly brought back to reality when John’s body ran flush against my back.

I sprinted for the front door, losing a heel as I threw myself up the steps to the building’s main door. The door was locked. I quickly found Ames’ buzzer, which wasn’t difficult as there were only ten names available, and pressed repeatedly until John caught up with me, slamming me into the door behind me. I hit the corner of my head, the sensitive part right above the hairline, making me feel dizzy.

“You stupid, bitch! Fine! You want to play this game! You got it. You’ve just made the biggest mistake.” He slammed me again, hard, against the door.

“Hello?” Callum answered through the intercom. I sucked in a harsh breath.

I opened my mouth to warn him but John clamped his hand over my mouth. I bit down on his hand but it did no good, he didn’t budge, only tightened his grip, painfully straining my jaw. I thrashed around as he waited for Callum to give up. “Hello?” He asked again. “Kids,” he muttered before breaking off the connection.

John smiled disturbingly into my face and tightened his grip, making me gulp for air. “You’ve sealed your deal, princess.”

He dragged me down the steps by my throat. I lost my the other heel as each foot bounced against steps on the descend. At the bottom, he dropped my body and punched me in the stomach as hard as possible, sending vomit all over the pavement.

Tears began to flow and I folded myself into a fetal position to avoid anymore blows to my stomach. The pain was excruciating. A volatile mix of nausea and unbelievable agony pricked at my insides. A thick blanket of darkness approached, begging me to follow it. John repeatedly kicked me. I fought with myself against the black but it beckoned me with every blow from John’s boot. My hands protected my face from each swing of his foot at my head but my fingers suffered intolerably. I manage to scream out in pain once when he finally fractured two fingers on my right hand.

I was granted a ten second reprieve when he moved to the other side of my body but soon sharp needles of extreme torture came with each swift blast of his boot. I arched my back, writhing in agony, the pain was so intense, I couldn’t find my voice and just when I thought I couldn’t take any more, just when I thought death was imminent with the very next hit, he stopped.