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Beautiful Surrender(28)

By:Priscilla West


Both men stood facing one another, exchanging fierce stares, neither of them blinking. The moment wouldn’t last forever. Someone was going to make a move.

Vincent’s body tensed. He swallowed hard. His hand curled into a fist by his side. He glanced at me.

No, don’t Vincent! I pleaded with my eyes, unable to find my voice.

Vincent returned his gaze to Marty.

Marty raised the gun and pressed the nozzle into Vincent’s forehead. “Get on your knees.”

“Don’t hurt him! Please!” I pleaded desperately, cupping my hands against my face. I was going to watch Marty shoot Vincent in the head and I was powerless to do anything. My eyes pricked. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Please, keep quiet Kristen,” Marty said, his tone barely concealing his anger. He kept his eyes trained on Vincent.

Marty reached behind his back and produced another set of handcuffs. He snapped one end around Vincent’s free hand and the other end around a different pipe on the radiator, ensuring Vincent wouldn’t be able to reach for something to throw or a cell phone to call.

“If you try to get out or if your team comes barging in, I’m going to put a bullet through your head. Understand?”

Vincent eyed him sternly.

Marty grabbed his hair and yanked his head back hard. “I asked you a question, you piece of shit. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Vincent groaned through clenched teeth.

“Good.” Marty jerked Vincent’s head down, making him wince in pain, then released his hair.

Marty returned to the couch, taking a seat beside me. I shifted away, pressing myself against the armrest and curling my legs into my chest.

“Don’t hurt her,” Vincent said, lifting his head back up. “This is between you and me. I’m the one who punched you, not her.”

“Shut the fuck up. Sit still and be quiet. This is all about me and Kristen. There’s no way I’d hurt her. If you want to keep talking, I’m not against hurting you though. God knows you deserve it.”

Marty turned to me. “Kristen, I’m so sorry it’s come to this.” He placed his hand on my shoulder.

The sensation made me hug myself tighter. “Please put the gun down,” I said, tears wetting the denim covering my knees. “You’re scaring me.”

He carefully put the gun down on the coffee table. It was out of his hand but not out of his reach.

“Calm down, babe. Breathe. Tell me you’re okay. Please.”

I tried my best to calm my nerves, taking deep breaths and hugging myself tightly. “What do you want?”

“Kristen, you have to understand. I wouldn’t be doing this if there was any other way.”

“Marty, you have a gun. You can’t have a good reason for this.”

“It wouldn’t have come to this if that asshole hadn’t beaten the hell out of me.” He pointed at Vincent. “I have to protect myself. And you. I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I muttered, lips quivering. I kept my eyes on Vincent, trying to find hope in him. Vincent was returning my gaze, nodding slightly, silently instructing me to stay calm. “I’m listening.”

“Please, look at me. Don’t be scared,” Marty said.

I reluctantly turned my gaze toward him. The bandages covering what used to be a handsome face made him look menacing.

“That’s better. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied, a tear running down my cheek.

“I need you to hear me out. I’m not going to hurt you.” He studied me for a moment, ensuring I gave him my full attention. “This isn’t easy for me to say, Kristen.” He sighed deeply. “My life’s been complete shit since you left me.”

Not knowing how to respond, I nodded silently.

“It was so sudden. Why did you leave like that? I know what I did was wrong but you didn’t even break up with me properly. After two years together, it was just poof. Gone. How could you do that to me?”

I swallowed hard, hoping my answer wouldn’t make him angrier. “Marty, you hurt me. I was afraid.”

“We’ve been off and on before. I thought this was just another hurdle for us to overcome. I didn’t know you’d react that way. You’d always been so patient and understanding. Do you know what it’s like to have the love of your life just disappear from your world? I was heartbroken. When I went to your apartment in Boston, you were gone. But most of your things were still there. I thought you’d come back for them. I waited for you. Days. Weeks. I slept on your couch, didn’t go to work. I called you, sent you messages. You didn’t answer any of them.”

He studied me for my reaction. I remained silent, sniffling.