Chapter 262

The sensation of darkness hits me before any real pain does, and overwhelming dizziness, as my body
buckles in front of him. My bones melt instantly, and I have no idea what is happening to me. He’s
knocked me senseless but not completely out and he slips me over his shoulder limply and effortlessly.

I’m fighting with my own consciousness to wake up and failing. There’s a dark haziness over me, I
know what is happening, but I have zero ability to do anything about it, my body temporarily paralyzed,
my willingness to fight locked inside my head. It feels like I’m dreaming, and all pain and fear has
slipped aside. I can hear harsh whimpering mewls coming from somewhere and realize it’s my own
voice. My inability to fight back and the fear inside of me blows up to dramatic proportions but I have no
strength or courage to do anything.

He is carrying me toward the stairs, effortlessly taking me from this house with an aura of satisfaction;
my limbs are heavy, and I have a slow tingling sensation coming into my fingertips. I’m sure I’m going
to throw up, the beginning of retches and jerks of a stomach getting ready to empty itself. I start tingling
and aching in my legs as I realize my body is coming out of the shock that his assault placed it in. I’m
slowly, so very painfully slowly able to move my fingers, fighting the huge weight of my own limbs to lift
them.

I whimper and reach out, trying weakly to grope at the closest banister to me as we pass, every jolt and
nudge is painful in my abdomen as my body bounces on hard shoulders with every step downward. I’m
trying to hold on, but my weak fingers slide with no grip, still not completely responsive. I slump and try
to inhale slowly, try to regain strength in my body as the mind fog in my brain starts to clear. My head
aches heavily as it begins to come through.

His pace is slow and steady, he’s enjoying the build up to taking me from my home, getting a kick out of
his dominance. His cruel vindictive game of building my fear, knowing I’m helpless. He planned this,
thought about every step and now he’s relishing in every second. His body odor and sweat wakes my



senses up, gagging and retching. The undeniably strong stench of a man who is used to physical work
and lack of hygiene.

“I’ve seen how weak pretty boy is over you. I’m going to enjoy sending him the videos of what I’m
repeatedly doing to you. I’m going to enjoy this so much more than you are, sweetheart! I have so
many inventive ways to fuck you, I just hope you live long enough to really torture him into insanity.” He
laughs again, almost to himself, his comments more of a smug self-assurance in an evil sadistic way
than a confession of his plans for me. It makes me realize how deeply he has been fantasizing about
this, thinking it through, every step planned for precision at how to get back at Jake and me; serving
punishment on a man he’s no match for and a girl who evaded his demands twice.

He’s taking me somewhere … somewhere he’s prepared with cameras and God knows what else. He
intends to rape me, torture me, and probably beat me; violence has always been his turn on, and he
wants to inflict pain upon Jake in the most demonic way possible. He’s seen the love Jake has for me
and he’s going to use it as a weapon knowing Jake can never physically touch him. He’s a coward and
a twisted son of a bitch, a man who can only dominate women that are of no match for him.

Fight for God’s sake! Get up and move, Emma!

That inner voice claws at me, a wave of fear running through my stomach for me and little tadpole. He’ll
kill us both for sure, and if he doesn’t kill me then he’ll kill the innocent life that grows inside me. She
would never survive repeated rape and torture and killing my baby will end me too. Even if I survive
this, I know I would never survive the loss or the knowledge that I didn’t protect her. I am her mother; I
need to protect her always.

Emma, you are not your mother. You can and will protect your daughter from Ray. You can do this.

Baby girl, sweetheart, Mommy is here. I’m here.



A surge of anger, and some deep unearthly protective rage rush from somewhere inside me. My arms
straining out as my hands grasp the banisters, desperately trying to latch on. My palms sliding on the
wooden surface, but I try again and grasp on, gripping hard onto my lifeline, tugging us to a sudden
unexpected halt, mid-step. It earns me a massive searing smack across my legs and butt, pain and
burning sensations flash across my skin in agonizing pain. I yelp but grab out again, catching further
down the banister in the hopes of doing it once more, each time delaying him so that maybe Mathews
has a chance of getting here in time after all.

We’re almost halfway down the huge sweeping staircase, closer to the door and probably a waiting car
to take me to never be found alive again. If I let him get me out there, let him take me from this place
then all is hopeless. No one will know where to come and find me. I’ll be his to do with as he pleases,
and I can’t let it happen.

Jake won’t survive this, it’ll kill him, it will destroy him. The beautiful soul that makes him who is, will be
devastated and broken forever.

I try to picture him in my mind, to give me strength and courage. His beautiful face and powerful body,
that calm demeanor but passionate heart. My body and soul, my reason for breathing; him and our
baby. They are my whole world, my life, and my future and no one has the right to take that away from
me or to take me away from them.

I close my eyes tight in determination, and with a slow steadying breath I grab at the smooth wooden
rail, resolving to hold on to it with everything that I am.

My hand connects with something loose on the smooth surface, it slides and clangs against the railings
as I’m tugged onwards in our descent. It’s cold and heavy and my fingers have grasped it before I can
really contemplate what it is.



The lights are off down here, he must’ve killed them before following me upstairs and I can just make
out the solid object I’ve caught in my palms, we’re still moving so he mustn’t have noticed it. He’s too
engrossed in his thoughts of what he’s going to do to me once he gets me into his car, my eyes dart
open in surprise at the sudden weight I’m gripping onto …

What is this … Long and thin and heavy …

My breath catches in my chest as my scrambled brain makes sense of it, suddenly clicking my
thoughts into place.

The crowbar … The crowbar!

I yank it up, harshly, lifting it as high as I can above my head, positioning myself with my abdomen
crushing against him, giving me balance and arching my back and head as high as I can. I stretch my
arms to full length and extend the bar upwards for a fully heightened swing. I bring it down with the
sheer force of hatred and self-preservation, teen Emma engaging my brain and taking control.

Take this fucker!

The crowbar connects with the base of his spine instantly with a magnificent self-satisfying crack, a
body-vibrating shudder runs through him to me in a flash and suddenly I’m flung backward at his shock
of the connection. I am flying in slow motion down the stairs, disconnected from him, and surprisingly
fearless. He cries out with a deep throaty gurgling scream of pain echoing around us in the dark space.

I hit the stairs sharply at an odd angle and I’m tumbling backward as my ankles turn under me, the
stomach-churning crunch and burning pain in my left foot lurches through me. I yelp loudly, gripping
onto bar as tight as I can because my life depends on it. I catch it across steps, trying to stop myself
from sliding backward down the steps, my butt wedged over the edge and my head pressed to a wall
from behind. I’m balancing crazily just below where he is on the stairs and my senses are finally



coming to, my body on high alert. This is my one chance at saving both of us and he’ll have to pry this
bar from my cold dead fingers to get me to relinquish my weapon.

He’s falling toward me in the dull light, brighter down here nearer the white marble hall because of the
wide long windows and white reflective flooring. He trips down the steps trying to regain balance,
attempting to catch the banister with one hand while his other is on his back. He’s moaning out loud,
grappling and struggling to regain his equilibrium as I shuffle backward to get some purchase on the
floor with my butt and legs, trying not to wince at the pain coursing through my body, pushing away the
searing agony.

I am ready and waiting as soon as he stumbles close enough, sheer fury coursing through me, fear
giving me strength; my body numbing out the pain as adrenaline spikes in my blood.

I swing hard as I can with both hands grasping the bar at the very base, right at his knee level giving it
all that I have left.

The crushing, gnawing sound of crunching, snapping

and splintering bone echoes out before his scream does and he crumbles over the top of me, like a
sack filled with air being deflated. His heavy weight crashes down on me, winding me, his big arms and
disgusting stale sweat entangle around me in panic and jolt my body down with his. He’s pulling me off
balance, and down the last few steps in a tumble as we roll the last distance in an entangled mass of
limbs, grunts, and groans. The sheer smell and feel of him bringing back the nausea in my throat and
the realization I am about to throw up …

My stomach is my only concern and my child within. I curl into a ball holding tight with the bar in my
arms against my breast; one hand protecting my baby, and fall into darkness with him, at astounding
speed. My eyes are closed, willing myself to hold on tight to what is most precious to me. The vision of
Jake and our baby in my mind giving me strength to keep going.



Our harsh marble floor landing is softened by his body at the base of the stairs and we come to a
sudden stop. I uncurl around him, realizing I’m on top and can get away if I shuffle backward on my
butt. He’s too focused on grappling at the floor, writhing in agony and whimpering pathetically. I’m
empowered by the groans and moans coming from his hunched-up body and drag myself away from
him, turning on my knees with only the thought of getting away, crawling to safety, and getting help. His
vice-like grip comes out to catch my broken ankle, causing excruciating pain to course through me,
resulting in a high-pitched scream. I bite out and catch my breath trying to hold myself together but I’m
not stupid. I’m still holding the crowbar, clutching onto it with the fury of a woman unleashed. I know
what I must do. I know he will keep coming for me, keep pursuing me unless I disable him properly. I
bring the bar down with perfect precision and great clarity over his skull and the force of a desperate
and terrified woman.


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