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Beginning

TW: Violence

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Isabelle felt an overwhelming surge of panic and adrenaline dump into her veins at the detective’s words. He killed them. He killed them, and he’s in my kitchen. And now he wants to keep me!? The seconds dragged on for years as they stared at each other with wide eyes but finally Isabelle’s body released its grip of terror on her, and she bolted.

Racing down the hall she slammed herself into the front door, struggling with the lock. Heavy footsteps followed her at a walk.

“Sophia, where are you going babe?”

Unable to open the door as he approached, Isabelle dashed into the living room instead. He roared in response, and she could hear him break into a run behind her.

“Come back here you bitch!” He nearly caught her, before his boots slid on the floor and he stumbled over the coffee table. The ground floor was laid out in a loop, so Isabelle knew that if she was just fast enough he wouldn’t be able to corner her. Her fear lent her the speed and agility of a rabbit as she led the predator on a wild chase through the house.

“Where are you going sweetheart?”

“I’m going to fucking break your neck bitch!”

“Playing hard to get are we?”

“I’ll make sure nobody finds your fucking body once I’m done with you slut!”

Her breath burning in her throat, Isabelle looked wildly around for something to give her the advantage as she bolted, listening to the detective scream wildly behind her. His rapid fire changes from rage to sweet and back were making her head swim, and filled her with even more terror. Then suddenly, it happened. He got a hand on her.

Grabbing her sweatshirt from behind, the detective managed to knock her off balance and they both fell to the floor. Isabelle instantly began scrambling, trying to get up, but it was too late. The detective, bigger and stronger than her, pulled her closer by her legs and started trying to pin her down.

“Stop moving you bitch!” He punched her in the face, causing her to see black specks in her vision. Stunned for a moment, she heard him fumbling with something. Sluggishly rolling her head to watch, Isabelle realised that he was pulling his gun from its holster. Eyes widening, she knew she couldn’t let him pull that on her or it was all over. Images of her parents flashed through her mind and she let out a scream. Lunging forward she tackled the detective’s arm as best she could from her angle, managing to take him by surprise. He was much stronger, but luck was on her side as he hadn’t gotten a good grip on the weapon yet when she pounced. They both watched with wide eyes as the gun slid across the laminate, ending up deep under the couch.

“You fucking bitch,” He roared, slamming her back against the floor. “Why can’t you just be happy for once!” He threw another punch, causing Isabelle to gasp in pain. “You belong with me!” She tried to cover her face, but he roughly pulled her arms away. “I will own you, no matter what you do!”

Isabelle choked out a gasp as the detective wrapped his large hands around her throat, squeezing tightly. Not able to breath, she began clawing at his arms and hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Spittle dripped on her face as he leaned over her, growling in rage. She could feel blood vessels in her eyes burst as her vision began to close in on itself. Flailing about, she could feel herself getting weaker and weaker. Catching a glimpse of a family photo on the wall behind the detective she gazed at Caden’s face. I can’t leave him all alone, not like this.

Isabelle’s flailing hand found something, and she tried to focus. The darkness was closing in so quickly. Wrapping her hand around the object, she recognized the shape. Her mother’s marble doorstop, shaped like a wood duck. That thing was hefty. Taking the last of her energy, she gripped the doorstop and swung it up at the detective.

The crack was so loud she could hear it even through the rushing sound in her ears. The detective’s hands released from around her throat as he toppled to the ground. Isabelle rolled to her side, dragging in air through her damaged throat. The pain was immense, but she could breath. Vision returning, she laid still for a long moment. Her entire focus was on getting air into her starved lungs, wheezing and coughing.

A loud groan alerted her to the detective’s movements. Limbs shaking in fear and exhaustion, Isabelle forced herself to get up on her hands and knees. She looked at the detective and noticed that while he was out, he seemed to be recovering. Blood was dripping from his head, but not badly enough to make her feel safe. Struggling to her feet, Isabelle staggered to the sliding door in the kitchen. With a groan of effort she managed to slide it open enough to get through, and she took off along the side of the house.

Fighting against her uncooperative body she thought, Run Izzy, you need to run.

Description

Previous | Next

Beginning

TW: Violence

-----

Isabelle felt an overwhelming surge of panic and adrenaline dump into her veins at the detective’s words. He killed them. He killed them, and he’s in my kitchen. And now he wants to keep me!? The seconds dragged on for years as they stared at each other with wide eyes but finally Isabelle’s body released its grip of terror on her, and she bolted.

Racing down the hall she slammed herself into the front door, struggling with the lock. Heavy footsteps followed her at a walk.

“Sophia, where are you going babe?”

Unable to open the door as he approached, Isabelle dashed into the living room instead. He roared in response, and she could hear him break into a run behind her.

“Come back here you bitch!” He nearly caught her, before his boots slid on the floor and he stumbled over the coffee table. The ground floor was laid out in a loop, so Isabelle knew that if she was just fast enough he wouldn’t be able to corner her. Her fear lent her the speed and agility of a rabbit as she led the predator on a wild chase through the house.

“Where are you going sweetheart?”

“I’m going to fucking break your neck bitch!”

“Playing hard to get are we?”

“I’ll make sure nobody finds your fucking body once I’m done with you slut!”

Her breath burning in her throat, Isabelle looked wildly around for something to give her the advantage as she bolted, listening to the detective scream wildly behind her. His rapid fire changes from rage to sweet and back were making her head swim, and filled her with even more terror. Then suddenly, it happened. He got a hand on her.

Grabbing her sweatshirt from behind, the detective managed to knock her off balance and they both fell to the floor. Isabelle instantly began scrambling, trying to get up, but it was too late. The detective, bigger and stronger than her, pulled her closer by her legs and started trying to pin her down.

“Stop moving you bitch!” He punched her in the face, causing her to see black specks in her vision. Stunned for a moment, she heard him fumbling with something. Sluggishly rolling her head to watch, Isabelle realised that he was pulling his gun from its holster. Eyes widening, she knew she couldn’t let him pull that on her or it was all over. Images of her parents flashed through her mind and she let out a scream. Lunging forward she tackled the detective’s arm as best she could from her angle, managing to take him by surprise. He was much stronger, but luck was on her side as he hadn’t gotten a good grip on the weapon yet when she pounced. They both watched with wide eyes as the gun slid across the laminate, ending up deep under the couch.

“You fucking bitch,” He roared, slamming her back against the floor. “Why can’t you just be happy for once!” He threw another punch, causing Isabelle to gasp in pain. “You belong with me!” She tried to cover her face, but he roughly pulled her arms away. “I will own you, no matter what you do!”

Isabelle choked out a gasp as the detective wrapped his large hands around her throat, squeezing tightly. Not able to breath, she began clawing at his arms and hands, but he wouldn’t let go. Spittle dripped on her face as he leaned over her, growling in rage. She could feel blood vessels in her eyes burst as her vision began to close in on itself. Flailing about, she could feel herself getting weaker and weaker. Catching a glimpse of a family photo on the wall behind the detective she gazed at Caden’s face. I can’t leave him all alone, not like this.

Isabelle’s flailing hand found something, and she tried to focus. The darkness was closing in so quickly. Wrapping her hand around the object, she recognized the shape. Her mother’s marble doorstop, shaped like a wood duck. That thing was hefty. Taking the last of her energy, she gripped the doorstop and swung it up at the detective.

The crack was so loud she could hear it even through the rushing sound in her ears. The detective’s hands released from around her throat as he toppled to the ground. Isabelle rolled to her side, dragging in air through her damaged throat. The pain was immense, but she could breath. Vision returning, she laid still for a long moment. Her entire focus was on getting air into her starved lungs, wheezing and coughing.

A loud groan alerted her to the detective’s movements. Limbs shaking in fear and exhaustion, Isabelle forced herself to get up on her hands and knees. She looked at the detective and noticed that while he was out, he seemed to be recovering. Blood was dripping from his head, but not badly enough to make her feel safe. Struggling to her feet, Isabelle staggered to the sliding door in the kitchen. With a groan of effort she managed to slide it open enough to get through, and she took off along the side of the house.

Fighting against her uncooperative body she thought, Run Izzy, you need to run.