“What shit?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond as he takes me into the bedroom. “Don’t move,” he orders before dropping my arm and storming into the adjoining bath.
My mind spins as I recall the events of the evening. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment Jace’s anger took over. Lately, it’s become increasingly difficult to dissect his moods and spot red flags. While I wait for him to return from the bathroom, one thought keeps popping into my mind: What more can he do to me?
Murder.
That word enters my brain unbidden, and I cringe at how easily it came. I’ve been around violence, death, and all sorts of bad shit, but I tried so hard to put it all behind me.
“I told you not to move,” Jace barks when he steps back into the bedroom.
I snap my head up at his voice and realize that, at some point, I sat on the edge of the bed. He stalks toward me, rage turning his cheeks a deep red, and slams his fist into my face when he reaches me.
Time passes in a blur as he continues to deliver blow after blow. I do my best to fight back, but it’s useless. I’ve never experienced Jace’s wrath when he’s this far gone, and I’m unable to anticipate his moves because his actions are all over the place.
By the time he stomps out of the room, my entire body is on fire, and I can barely move. Blood is spattered all over the comforter, floor, and walls. Agony tears through me as I try to get to my feet.
I collapse three times before I make it to the door. Bracing myself against the frame, I try to catch my breath, but inhalingthreatens to send me to my knees. I take a moment to mentally catalogue my injuries.
Broken ribs… check.
Unknown number of bruises… check.
Possible broken cheekbone… check.
Beyond that, I have no idea. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to know. Tears stream down my cheeks, and the salty taste mixes with the blood when they reach my lips. I lift my arm, ignoring the pain, and brush away the wetness.
I’m exhausted, but I can’t stop. I need to get to my cell downstairs. When Jace was done, I heard the front door slam, so I know he’s gone, but I have no clue how much time I have before he returns.
When I finally make it to the first floor, every inch of me wants to fall onto the couch and pass out, but I force myself to go to the kitchen and grab my phone off the counter.
Me: I need u guys… 911
I hit send and the message appears in the group thread I have with Sammie, Greg, and Melody. For all I know, they could be busy, but I’m counting on at least one of them seeing the text and coming to my rescue.
Almost instantly, my phone pings multiple times with responses.
Greg: What happened?
Melody: On my way
Greg: Be there in 10
Sammie: Gotta throw on clothes but I’m coming
Melody: Need police?
Sammie: Ambulance?
Me: No police or ambo. Jace lost his shit. Gotta get outta here
Greg: I’ll kill him!
Sammie: Bringing the shovel!
Melody: I have no prob digging a grave
Relief floods my system at their reaction. I collapse on the couch and wait for them to arrive. As I wait, my brain races. I need to leave, get as far away from Jace as I can, but I’m pretty sure driving right now is out of the question.
