CHAPTER 72 - Molly

CHAPTER 72MollyIPULL THE CHAIN FROM BEHIND MY BACK. CAL’S EYES OPEN WIDE IN surprise and confusion. I use both hands to wrap it around his neck and push him backward. His glasses tumble to the floor. He trips and falls, and I fall on top of him.“What the fuck?” He mumbles and grabs my hands, freeing himself from the chain. I’ve managed to cut his neck superficially, but nothing more. He rolls over and pins me underneath him. “You fucking bitch.” He nearly laughs. “Thought you were pretty smart, huh? You been working on that the whole time?” He grabs my hand, eyes my bloody fingers. Saliva drips from his mouth onto my cheek, and his gasping, sour breath blows against my face. “Fine. You want it rough? I’m game.”I can’t breathe with him on top of me. I squirm and kick, but he’s too strong. I reach out with my right hand, searching for the knife or the gun, but they’re too far away. His hands circle my neck. His fingers tighten on my throat. I feel woozy. I’m sinking into a swamp, dark and dreamlike. His hands loosen just before I go under, and I pull a choppy breath down into my chest. He’s yanking on my jeans. No, no, no.I’ll fight with everything I’ve got. Keith and Cal meld into one before my eyes. With anger spreading through my body, filling me with purpose, I thrust my hand under my back and work my fingers down to my waist band. I slide out the metal piece I’d pulled from the toilet tank, and with all my strength stab it into the side of his neck.He howls and rolls away as I scramble to my feet. The floorboards overhead creak. And I hear people shouting.“Police!” They’re standing at the open door, looking down, guns raised.Cal grabs my leg, and I fall flat on my face on the crumbled cement floor. I look back at him. Blood is bubbling from the wound in his neck. He’s trying to stop it with one hand and hold on to my leg with the other. I kick and thrash, finally breaking free.Cops are descending the ladder as I run toward them. An older cop lowers his gun and pulls me to his side.Detective Myers, her weapon raised, strides toward Cal. His face is a sickly white, and he grins at me. “Look, Melinda. They’re here. The media can’t be far behind.”