24 Chapter 24th

It happened very slowly – or maybe it was just adrenaline that made it feel that way.

His hand wrapped around my throat – they seemed to merely hold me in place at first, and that was enough to send my heart racing. But soon the grip started tightening, despair grew.

I clawed and pulled at his hands with increasing anguish, the type that can only be understood by someone who's experienced nearly drowning. I tried pulling and I tried stretching out my neck, moving, kicking… anything to hold it back, to try and prevent it, to enjoy one more gulp of air… until I gasped, finally feeling him squeeze the last of my oxygen out, his skin stretching around mine producing a disturbing leather-like sound.

Fear, then, was like nothing I had experienced before; and if it had lagged behind until now, reality finally came crashing: Chris would kill me.

He pursed his lips, focusing, twitching ever so slightly as he squeezed, tempering his grip as if to make it last. I gasped for the air he wouldn't allow through, and I thrashed and kicked, but could barely move from beneath him… and soon, very soon, I grew weak.

With one last kick, one so little aware it felt like a dying spasm, I felt something at my feet – a tumbled chair. Impulse made me kick it hard. It unexpectedly crashed against the kitchen door, shattering the glass pane.

Shattered glass showered down over us, and Chris's distraction was enough to alleviate his grip. Some air found me, I patted the floor for a shard, grabbed one and swung at him. I must have been too sluggish for success though: Chris reached out to detain me – as he did, he cut the outer rim of his hand on it. Unfazed, he pinned my hand down, back against the floor, and pressed it closed around the shard I held. I screamed until I tired, then dropped back on the floor, defeated. Chris sat up on his knees and stared down at me, recovering his breath. I wondered what would happen to me…

"Now…" he panted still, as if the commotion – the sheer act of straining my neck… or of making himself stop – was an exhausting effort. "…I think I got my point across."

And, bending forward and inching closer to me, he pulled the shard from my hand and tossed it away. As I winced, he squeezed my wrist until I gasped – blood dripped out from my fresh cut.

"Again, I don't need your obedience, Abby…" he illustrated, silencing my cry with the inherent intensity of his voice "I have offered you a smoother alternative in exchange for it… but that was for your sair alone. A treat! Because when it comes down to it, I don't need your silence. I don't need your cooperation… and I certainly don't need a knife."

I swallowed as he slowly leaned closer, pinning me down but earning my immobility through intimidation alone:

"I can tell you've tried your hardest… can you? Pay attention to your body now: it wasn't enough."

I hyperventilated.

"If anything, you've only managed to make me angrier…" he chuckled "You're just a kid: try to remember that next time you have a brave idea. Emancipated, yes… Smart, Inventive, roguish even… but ultimately, just a kid. And it doesn't take much to keep a kid in check…" He threatened, slowly breathing "…You may convince yourself you've at least tired me, you've hurt me, made it impossibly hard to hold you still, and I'll give you some credit in that… but I myself did little to subdue you. One or two broken bones are enough to quiet you down if you prove to be a nuisance. I wouldn't personally like that very much, but I won't avoid it if you force my hand." He faintly smiled as he watched me with that disturbing, calm affection in his eyes "I'd much rather take the long road out: teach you obedience…"

My heart sunk as the two images connected: Chris, the man I loved, his charming smile, his warm eyes… and Chris, who could inspire so much fear with such a calm countenance! That word finally rung out here, dragged into the real world – my world now, the one I'd isolated myself in, having built my own trap… with him: Killer. And I was his next victim!

"Whatever we end up doing with our time, the outcome is the same: I can do whatever I want with you…" he lifted an eyebrow as he elucidated. "…you can't save yourself. And there's no one here to save you either. So gloomy as it is, I suggest you meditate on that very hard, keep it in mind at all times to try and spare yourself the hassle of fighting me. I can break you…" he sighed, as if the thought was a conflicting one "…but I don't want to. And you won't provoke me either: It would be a damn shame if I ended up killing you on a whim, after all we've been through…"

That word… the real threat, unveiled. Another ring in the broken, tuneless bell of reality.

"Now come…" Chris stood, grabbing me by my arm and forcing me upon my flimsy feet "Get up!"

I groaned and moaned as my body ached, and instinctively resumed my struggle by punching his chest. "No!! Leave me alone!!! Let me go!!!"

"Oh, I will!" he sighed, unperturbed by my exhausted blows. "I figured since you're so riled up, I'll let you tire yourself out a little more first… We both could use the time to cool down!"

I stiffened my legs, resisting the march he tried to pull me towards.

"What?" He scoffed, mocking me "No need to be anxious, it will only be a couple of hours. We've waited so much already; don't tell me you can't stand just a little longer? Think about it… as foreplay."

"F-Fuck you!!" I shrieked, disturbed.

"Funny…" he smiled, mocking me "I'm planning something along those same lines! But… all in its time. Don't be anxious. We'll be there soon."

My eyes widened, fear creeping up my stomach, bones shaking gently – gently, humiliatingly in his hand, for him to feel it and mark the extent of the fear he at last inspired. I tried to thrash, uselessly.

"As I said…" he groaned, yanking me back to his side and checking my struggle "…I'll let you cool down a little first: Sit tight… reflect… make peace with your demons, let them reason with you…" he pushed me forward, holding me fast by the arm. I planted my feet on the floor as if my life depended on it, but Chris broke that with just a few pushes.

He pulled the basement door open as I thrashed and jumped, and positioned me right in front of the threshold.

"Try not to make this any harder on yourself…" he pulled me to him, his lips to my ears softly breathing… before forcing me forward again.

I struggled, resisting, fearing, irrationally, whatever expected me down there. At the edge of his patience, Chris callously hurled me forward after a minute's refusal. I fell, rolling halfway down the stairs, stopping at the landing.

"Come to think of it…" he declared, standing at the door, his dark outline poorly visible against the light as he looked down at me "… I should have spared me all that self-control and locked you in sooner."

And he slammed the door, shutting me in the dark.