Bleeding Hearts

1

Chapter One

March 5, 2015

My hand trembles as I grip the cool handle of my pistol, keeping a firm grasp to ensure it doesn't slip out of my sweaty hand. It usually stands sentry in my left nightstand to scare the nightmares away. But this isn't a dream. The room is dark and hides the face of the man whose intent is to kill me. But I know who he is. A metallic taste fills my mouth; I want to gag. My blood drips off the blade in his hand in slow, steady beats on the carpet. My arms shake as I lift the barrel and point it in his direction. He doesn't move. His heavy breaths alert me to the meager distance between us.

We're at a stalemate.

A soft glow from the lamppost just outside my window casts a sliver of light on his face. His dark, beady eyes that I have grown to know rake over my body like I'm another one of his many victims. He lifts the edges of his mouth into a smile. My heart plunges into my stomach. I know what that sinister expression means, and I think back to all the times he had looked at me like that before. I had been so blind.

Before I react he lunges at me, grabbing onto my waist and twisting me to the ground. I shriek as my head slams against the bed frame. Black spots flood my vision. I squeeze my hand only to find it empty. My gun is gone. The sound of the knife clattering on the floor gives me slight hope. Not much though. He climbs up my body trying to pin my arms to the floor. I thrash my fists around, desperate to knock him off.

"Get off!" I scream, pulling on his shirt and kicking him off balance. Wrapping his hands around my arms, my attacker cuts off the circulation of blood. Rug burns flare across my skin as he drags me across the carpet. He closes his hands around my neck, shutting off my air supply. I pull at his hands but it's no use; he has always been stronger than me. My pulse drums a frantic beat in my ears. The air slowly leaks out from my lungs, killing any hope I may have left. I search for the gun around the room; it may be my only savior now.

"Why are you doing this?" I struggle to get the words out. He squints his dark eyes. I'm wondering if there might be a chance that he will stop this madness. I am wrong.

"It'll be over soon, sweetheart." His hands again tighten around my neck, blocking the air from entering my lungs. The salty mixture of sweat and tears run down the side of my face.

"Stop, Carson, please," I whisper. Dizziness starts to set in. I have to do something. He can't take me from this world like he has to so many others. I stretch as far as I can behind my head then bring my forearms down with as much force as I can manage, hitting his arms. He growls in pain and loosens his grip on me. I gasp for air and scoot out of his hold, my knee making contact with his groin. His scream pierces my ears and I cringe from the sound, yet hope that it will distract him long enough for me to get away.

I'm inches from my gun when I feel his hand grab at my ankle. Using my free leg, I kick him in his already crooked nose as hard as I can. He doesn't budge, but the pain distracts him long enough to give me the inch I need.

Wrapping my fingers around my gun, I aim it at the man I thought I loved. He scrambles to his feet, and as I inhale a breath, my finger pulls back on the trigger.

The loud bang of the gun penetrates my eardrums, deafening the room. My attacker drops to the floor, clutching his shoulder. His silence scares me. There's no time to check to see if he is alive, to see if I've killed Carson.

The room starts to spin as I stumble to my feet, grabbing at the wall for support. I press a hand to my temple. Torrents of blood flow down the side of my face and neck. The rock band tee I wore to bed is ripped down the side, barely hanging on my body. My only thought is to get out of my apartment and to the officer that lives down the hall.