Ghostface Killer(39)

"Baz?" I struggle to swallow, stunned.

His inhuman gaze narrows, heavily trained on me. In this aging moment, I'm a stranger. A nobody, a nothing. I barely recognize him, and it breaks my heart. He was clearly playing me the same way I was playing him. Although, I stopped playing after a while. It was all real for me. The time was real, my feelings were real, this baby is real.

"Baz, let go!" I demand.

"After you're dead." He raises his free hand and puts on another show with the butterfly knife, flipping it through his fingers like a deadly pinwheel.

"Baz!" I thrash fitfully, desperate to break free. He closes the knife then opens it again in a stealthy move before rearing his arm back, the tip aimed right at my torso. "Baz, don't!" I screech. A bloodcurdling, ear-piercing sound. I protect my abdomen as something shifts in his stare. Clarity? Recognition? Realization? I bet on number three as he inspects my trembling eyes. As he reads my mind, placing me under that damn spotlight like only he can do. His gaze drops for a fraction of a second to where I'm protecting my stomach. A dark, harrowing expression mars his freshly trimmed face. An entire decade passes before he moves again. Before he fists the handle of the knife in his hand and smashes me right in the face, catapulting me into darkness.





"GET UP, STEVIE." I hear his voice raise from beyond the grave in the darkness, and my chest aches. "Don't punk out." Then he laughs. God, that sinister, demented laugh. "Don't be fucking weak. You know who's weak? Pussies, that's who. And just because you have one doesn't mean you have to be one."

My face hurts. "Benny?" I can't see him in the darkness, but I can feel him. Feel his wrath after I disappointed him. "I'm not weak!" I scream. "I am not weak!"

I startle awake, and my head throbs. Oh, God. I have the hangover from hell. I look around the foreign room. Where am I? I try to get up, but I'm deterred by the handcuffs shackling me to the bed. What the fuck? I yank my arms, the metal chain links clanking against the iron part of the headboard above me. 

I try to remember how I got here. Benny? No. Baz. Shit. It all comes rushing back. Baz in the alleyway. Baz with the knife. Baz almost killing me, again. I clench my jaw and my face stings. Damn, he hit me fucking hard. He hit me like he hates me. Which also fucking hurts.

Baz isn't the first man to hit me, and I doubt he'll be the last. When I first went to live with Benny, he would beat me often. Once or twice a week, at least. Even through all my training, all my collection of skills, he made sure I knew who was boss. I let him do it for years. Layering bruises on top of my already bloodied lips and black eyes from sessions with my trainers. It didn't matter how hard they hit me, Benny's blows always hurt more. They hurt deep down inside because I loved him. I wanted to please him, but I felt like I never could. Until the day I hit him back. I couldn't take the abuse anymore. The rage was storming inside me. I was older by then. Nearly twenty. I had taken down men twice my size, killed in cold blood, and bloomed into a seductress. But I was always fearful of Benny. He was the one person who scared me most. He was unpredictable, and unpredictability is a dangerous thing. But I didn't care at that moment. I just wanted him to stop hurting me. I wanted him to stop hurting my heart every time he touched me with violent hands. I snapped, hauled off and clocked him square in the mouth. He fell back, lip split wide open, blood pouring onto his black shirt. When I realized what I did, I panicked, knowing I was in for the beating of my life. Shit, shit, shit. I almost started to cry when Benny started laughing. A huge, crazy cackle booming from his bloody mouth. I stood there gaping at him, completely confused.

"It's about fucking time." He looked up at me from his seat on the floor. "You have finally awoken."

I just stared at him dumbfounded. "Awoken?"

Benny stood up, wiping his bloody lip, his teeth stained red.

"Yes. Little fox, awoken." He stalked toward me until my back hit the wall. He placed his hands on my neck and forced my face up by stabbing the tips of his thumbs into the tender flesh below my jaw. I swallowed hard, feeling their uncomfortable pressure. "Don't ever let anyone push you around, Stevie. Not even me."

With that statement, a monumental lesson was learned. Looking up into Benny's crazy green eyes, I realized who I was and exactly what I was capable of. I really had awoken.

The door to the bedroom creaks, ripping me from the memory. I tense, my hands securely secured above my head. Could I be any more of a sacrificial lamb right now? How pathetic. I hate being helpless. My stomach ripples once Baz comes into view. I'm hit with a wave of nausea as my little one reminds me of its presence.