Torn by A.F. Crowell

the ADA is working on securing a warrant for
his arrest.”
    “Y’all still haven’t picked him up?” Drew
pulled out his phone. “Hold that thought, I gotta get this.”
    Drew walked away and left Tommy and me
standing in the parking lot filled with unmarked cars. “I gotta get
home. Leila expected me to only be gone for a few hours.”
    “Right, get outta here. Drew’s takin’ you.
I’ll check in later.” Tommy dropped his cigarette and stepped on
it.
    “Do me a favor, call Drew if you get word on
Drill.” I turned and walked away before anyone saw us together.
    “No problem. Watch your back, man.”
    Walking in Drew’s direction, I caught the
last few words of his conversation. “Yeah, I’d appreciate it,
Bobby. I’ll see ya in a few.”
    “What’s up?” I wondered why Bobby had called
him and what Drew wanted him to do.
    “Huh.” He dropped the phone into his left
cargo pocket on his pants. “Oh, he called to see if I had bailed
you out. He’s on his way to your house to watch it in case Drill
shows up there.”
    “Fuck, man, I swear to God if he goes near
her I will kill him with my bare hands.”
    “It’s not gonna come to that. Bobby should be
there any minute.” We climbed into Drew’s black Tahoe and sped out
of the parking lot, heading to the house.

 
    Chapter Thirteen
    Leila
    Blood poured from the gash on my forehead
and ran down my face. I was pretty sure my nose was broken. Drill
still had a death grip on my hair. He spun me back around toward
him and started to drag me toward the door. I managed to grab the
scissors in the midst of the chaos, hiding them with the handle in
the palm of my hand and the blade behind my wrist.
    Letting go of my hair, he reared back and
punched me in the right jaw and I collapsed to the floor with a
wail. I couldn’t tell if it was tears streaming down my face or
blood.
    “That’s for being a fuckin’ pain in the ass.
I will drag you out of this fuckin’ house by your goddamned hair if
I have to. Your choice.” He squatted on the floor right in my face
and I saw my opening. His neck was exposed and he was balancing on
one hand. This was the only shot I would have to make it to the
panic room, but he stood up too quickly.
    “I’ll walk, but I can’t get up on my own.”
The thought of him touching me made my stomach roll and my skin
crawl. Pushing those thoughts aside, he grabbed my left elbow and
yanked me to my feet. I took advantage of the momentum propelling
me forward toward him. Spinning the scissors around, I swung my
right arm around with all the force I had and imbedded the blade
into the left side of his neck just below his jaw, aiming for the
carotid artery.
    Blood spurted from the puncture wound and
sprayed all over me. Shock and disbelief covered his face as he
released me to grab at his neck. Turning, I ran for the closet,
holding my stomach, slamming the door behind me and frantically
pulling the clothes off the rod to get to the panic room door. I
ripped the door open, rushed inside, and pushed the door closed as
quickly as I could. Arming the system, I slowly backed away from
the door. I looked around the room I had prayed to never see inside
of again. Remembering the security cameras, I turned on the
computer monitor and tried to remember how to use the system.
    “Damn it, why didn’t I pay attention?” I
cussed myself as I pressed buttons. Wiping my forehead on my
sleeve, I tried to see the tiny words on the camera icons on the
screen. Clicking on all of the cameras, I tried to see if Drill had
left, but the only camera that I could seem to get a picture from
was right outside the panic room I was currently panicking in.
    “Fuck.” My vision was obscured by blood and I
was getting weaker by the second. I tried to slow my breathing and
collect myself. I sank onto the couch and began taking slow, deep
breaths. It didn’t matter if I screamed at the top of my lungs; the
room was soundproofed. I had to wait until someone