He lunged forward, and I wasn’t quick enough to get away.
Freezing was the most useless human defence mechanism.
I wished I was a runner, although I wasn’t sure how far I would have made it in those heels, and I had a suspicion Darrell would enjoy the chase.
He had hold of both my arms now and dragged my body flush with his.
I struggled for a moment, but then he gave me a hard shake, which was enough to make me freeze again.
He took advantage of my lack of movement, dragging me across to a free patch of wall in between two of the portraits, and pinning me there.
Claustrophobia enveloped me, and I started to struggle for breath; my head was swimming, and then it was like I had left my body altogether. Like I was floating above Darrell and me, watching as he yanked up the hem of my dress to my hip.
Deep in terror now, knowing I couldn’t fight him off, I hung in his arms and closed my eyes.
But then a vision of Mike’s face swum into my consciousness: Mike hesitating before he touched me, Mike holding my hand, Mike telling me he liked me, Mike finding out exactly the type of sandwich I can eat.
How fuckingdareDarrell touch me?
I wasn’t his, I wasMike’s.
And so I took a deep breath in, and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“You crazy bitch,” Darrell snapped in horror as he tried to cover my mouth with his large hand whilst grappling to keep me pinned to the wall with the other.
But I was no longer frozen. I was fighting, and I remembered Ollie’s go-to advice:Alwaysgo for the balls, Vicky.
I brought my knee up and smashed it into Darrell’s crotch.
He howled in pain, the hand over my mouth dropping to his groin as he used the other hand to grab my hair by the roots and smash the side of my face into the wall. But then, suddenly, he was gone.
To be more precise, he was actually flying backwards through the air.
Mike had grabbed him by the back of his jacket and shirt, and literally lifted him up and off me, as if he weighed no more than a bag of flour.
Darrell tried to get away. His arms were whirling all over the place in his attempt to escape, but Mike just held him at arm’s length, suspended slightly off the floor by the scruff of his neck, like he was a naughty kitten.
“What the fuck is going on?” Mike shouted, giving Darrell a rough shake. I was a non-violent person, but it did feel good to watch Darrell get a taste of his own medicine.
“She was asking for it,” Darrell, very unwisely said. “She’s a little fucking tease. All that ice princess stuff is just—” Darrell broke off because Mike punched him in the face, and he crumpled to the floor at Mike’s feet.
“Er… sorry to interrupt,” the wedding planner—I knew who she was because I’d had to go onto her website to pay her for her services—said from a few feet away down the corridor. Her wide eyes were fixed on the three of us.
I realised that my dress was still up around my hips, and I jerked it down.
Mike’s eyes flashed with fury when he saw me do that.
“B-but the speeches are about to start and?—”
“Go and get the brideandthe mother and father-of-the-bride and bring them here,” Mike snapped at her. “Right fucking now.”
“Oh, er… okay.” Wedding planner lady seemed relieved to be making a hasty exit.
Meanwhile, Darrell started scuttling back from Mike. He was bleeding from his nose, all down his pristine white shirt and that horrible salmon pink tie.
“Oh, no you don’t,” muttered Mike, striding over to him and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck again to lift him up onto his feet. “You’re not going anywhere, mate.”
“What the hell is going on?” Mum stormed down the corridor, her face puce with rage, followed by Gareth and Rebecca.
