My head twisted around like a windmill in a fierce wind. My skin prickled as every hair on my scalp was yanked back. The ceiling spun as I hit the ground, my head snapping backward awkwardly. A whimper bubbled from my throat and finally came out as a shriek. The immediate consequence was several slaps to the face with the back of his hand.
While he was occupied with tearing into my flesh, I scrambled to my knees and reached for the doorknob. Only one more inch, and I would be free. My fingers brushed the cold, bronze metal before I was pulled backward and brutally thrown into the couch. A burning itch filled the back of my head and dizziness swept over me. Stars configured in my view, and I blinked hard. As sweat began to form at the top of my forehead, I stared at the blurred figure in front of me. He was dressed in an expensive suit from Macey's, and his blazing, blue eyes grabbed at my own with a defiance I shuttered at. He wasn't muscular, but he wasn't scrawny either.
His name was Peter, and he was my husband.
YOU ARE READING
Peter, Peter
HorrorWarning: If you have nightmares after reading about cannibals, this is probably not the best book for you. Having said that, I hope you enjoy the story!
