Trapped With A Killer

Chapter Eighteen

There was a pregnant pause as Wheaton and I stood frozen, the only sound was my own heartbeat and both of our heavy breaths. My eyes flitted about the kitchen, and I spotted the knife block. Maybe if I could reach it in time I still had a shot at escaping.

"Reyna," Wheaton spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Give me back the keys, and I'll forget this ever happened." I could hear a slight tremble in his tone, and I knew he was holding back a tsunami of rage. I let out a nervous chuckle.

"Y-yeah right," I said before launching myself towards the knives. I managed to snatch one and whip around, but Wheaton hadn't even moved from the doorway.

"Now what are you going to do with that?" he said, taking a step forward. I leveled the knife at him, trying not to lose my grip on the keys.

"D-don't move! Don't come any closer!" I stuttered, but Wheaton just stalked towards me until he was a mere couple feet away. My whole body trembled with adrenaline and fear. The sweat on my hands threatened my grip on the knife as I stood with bated breath. Wheaton looked like a wounded animal ready to pounce.

In a flash of movement Wheaton lept towards me to snatch my wrist, and I sprung forward trying to bury the knife in his stomach.

Wheaton managed to deflect my arm, my momentum causing me to lose my balance and stumble forward. Taking the opening, Wheaton buried his fist into my stomach. I wheezed in pain and lost my grip on the knife and the keys as I slumped to the floor.

Without missing a beat Wheaton reared back and kicked me in the head, my skull hitting the table leg with a crack. The whole world went fuzzy, and I heard Wheaton's muffled voice above me.

"What's the matter, Reyna? I thought you wanted to escape? Why are you just lying there, hm?" he mocked before he wove his fingers through my hair and started tugging me back towards the basement.

"N-no," I whispered groggily, my scalp burning as he yanked me to the top of the stairs. With a shove of his foot he sent me rolling down them, bruising my whole body. My head slammed into the concrete floor of the basement with a sickening thud. I curled my trembling limbs into myself while my head was surrounded in a daze of pain. Did I break something in the fall? I didn't know. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.

I had to get a grip or I was going to die! I tried to fight through the fog as Wheaton reached down to grab my arm. He dragged me across the cold, smooth floor and threw me into the narrow room. I stumbled to my feet and tripped backwards away from him, the whole world spinning like a top. I fell down with an oof and flipped myself around to look at Wheaton.

He hovered over me, holding the knife I had grabbed from the kitchen in his hands, and I screamed in terror. His manic eyes glared down at me from his bloodstained face. He took a step forward, and I scurred backwards until my back hit the wall.

I had to do something or I was done for! I couldn't fight him anymore, not in my condition. I had to use my brain to convince him to spare me somehow, but fear and pain clouded my mind and made it impossible to think clearly.

"Please," I whispered pitifully. Wheaton squatted down next to me, and I whimpered as he drew the knife over my cheek, leaving a small, searing gash.

"You little sneak, you were planning this weren't you?" Wheaton growled. I felt the tears start to flow down my face, mixing with the cold sweat that had broken out over my entire body.

"I-I-" I stuttered, but Wheaton pressed the knife harder against my cheek.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear your excuses!" he interrupted, and I sniveled. "You are in so much trouble." Wheaton trailed the knife down to my neck, and all I could picture was how he had sliced that man's throat open in the warehouse. If I didn't do something quick, I was sure to meet the same fate.