He scoffed. “You’re so fucking stupid. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“I know I’m dealing with a sociopath in front of me, and you can’t scare me anymore.”
“Oh no? You look pretty scared right now.”
He stepped closer, and I backed away until I hit a wall. “Get out!”
He smiled like a devil would. Sinister and viscous.
“You keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and fucking with my life.” That was laughable. I fucked with his life?
“If fucking with your life means you can’t get to Erica or Jamie, I’ll gladly do it.” I found all the strength I had and forced the words, “Now, get out.”
Rage took him over and he lunged at me, grabbing my throat and pushing me further against the wall.
“You fucking bitch. You won’t take everything I have! You won’t!”
I clawed at his arms and kicked out, making contact with his shin, enough for him to ease his grip. Instinct took over, and I kicked again, and again. He threw me against the desk, which tipped over and crashed. I caught my breath for a moment, and when I saw him coming at me, I knew by the look in his eyes he was going to kill me.
I kicked out again and hit his stomach, but he grabbed me as I tried to run, and wrestled me to the floor.
“Help!” I screamed. “Help!”
Putting my hands together, I made a double fist, and just started hitting any part of him I could. Fighting. For the first time since that night, I fought. I fought the way I wanted to back then, but had been too afraid. Not today. If he wanted to hurt me, I’d hurt him back. And I would fight. For myself, for Erica and Jamie, for everyone who’d been hurt and couldn’t fight.
“You can’t beat me,” he said, and spit landed on my face. I struggled and used all my strength to get him off of me, and when I saw his hand raised high, I squeezed my eyes shut.
The next thing I felt was blistering pain slice across my cheek. He hit me so hard I blinked to clear the haze, but it wouldn’t clear.
I hiked my knee up and kicked him hard, finally hitting his groin and getting him to scream in pain. He rolled off of me with his hands cupped between his legs. I made for the door, threw it open, and screamed.
“Help!” I ran toward the fire station. “Help!”
A couple men ran from the building, and I breathed hard. “He attacked me…” I sputtered and pointed at my house.
My ears were buzzing, I couldn’t hear right, couldn’t see right. But one man ran across the street to my house, while the other said something I couldn’t make out.
But I felt a hand on me and flinched away.
“Easy, it’s okay,” I thought he said. “It’s me, Dave.”
“Dave?”
He started yelling for a medic or gurney? I couldn’t quite hear right, but I was glad he was a familiar face. My mouth was moving, but sounds didn’t come out. I was trying to tell him what happened. Tell him that Brock was over at my house and to not let him get away. I struggled to stay standing, and felt like my limbs suddenly lost the bones in them.
Then a big fire truck rolled up and parked in the driveway.
Cal jumped from the truck in all his gear that was smoky and covered in soot and ran toward me.
Everything would be okay.
Just seeing him made me know that.
But my adrenaline crashed, and as I watched Cal run toward me, all I could hear were the words he once said the last time this happened.
When you crash, I’ll be right here to catch you…
With that, my legs buckled, and my world went dark.