The blast of a .38-caliber revolver sends me crashing to my knees, landing in the road, with gravel digging deep into the flesh of my knees.
My hands grip the gritty ground, as if my life depends on it, making my fingers bleed. Who knows, at this point, maybe it does.
Even with my eyes closed, I can feel the world spinning around me, my body threatening to give up and lose what control I have left. Tears stream down my horror-stricken face and a silent scream is threatening to form in my throat. It hurts. It hurts like hell.
That’s when I hear it. A bloodcurdling scream that makes my blood run cold. Except, it’s not my screaming that is roaring through my ears as I expected.
It’s the screaming of a woman. A very angry, hysterical woman.
The only thing I can decipher is, “Call 911. Somebody fucking call 911. There’s blood everywhere.”
I can hear bodies shuffling nearby, some of them even tripping over me to get away, but I can only process one thought. He’s gone. Please don’t let him be gone.
With force, I am yanked to my feet, a large hand smacking me across the face, causing blood to taste on my tongue.
I try to focus, but my vision is too blurred to make any sense of who has control of my body and at this point, I’m not so sure it even matters.
“This is your fault,” the deep voice growls as I spit blood onto his filthy boots. Narrowing his eyes, he wraps my hair securely around his hand and yanks my head back, hard, while his other hand tightens around my throat, squeezing. “You’re going to pay for this if it’s the last thing I do, you stupid bitch.”
He lets go of my neck and shoves me down to the ground so my face is pressed into the gravel, his boot crushing into the back of my skull. Dirt and rocks dig into my left eye, making it even harder to see through the tears. I desperately look for the man that hasn’t only crushed then stolen my heart just to crush it again, but has also replaced a part of me that I thought was long ago lost.
Realizing that my search is pointless, I just lay there defeated, feeling half-alive, but mostly dead. “Go ahead,” I whisper. “See if you can hurt me anymore than you already have. I dare you.” My body’s trembling, but I look him dead in the eye anyways. I’m not scared of dying. Not after losing the biggest part of me, my heart. “Losing him will be my last regret.” I shift so that I’m looking at the deep scars that cover his face. They make me sick. He makes me sick. “That and not killing you when I had the chance.”
Victoria Ashley grew up in Rockford, IL and has had a passion for reading for as long as she can remember. After finding a reading app where it allowed readers to upload their own stories, she gave it a shot and writing became her passion.
She lives for a good romance book with tattooed bad boys that are just highly misunderstood and is not afraid to be caught crying during a good read. When she’s not reading or writing about bad boys, you can find her watching her favorites shows such as Sons Of Anarchy, Dexter and True Blood.
She is the author of Wake Up Call and This Regret and is currently working on more releases for 2014.
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