00|| Run, Scarlett, Run
I should have known he wouldn't let me leave.
Johnny's face distorts in the shadows of the living room. His voice is low as he speaks, venom dripping in every word. "You think you can just walk out on me, Scar? You think you'll be safe out there without me?" He snarls. "No one will want you, Scarlett. No one. I'll make sure of it."
I hate the way my stomach drops as he says that. The way he says my name isn't love... it's ownership.
What I feel for me isn't hatred anymore. It's pure, unadulterated abhor.
I try to walk past him, muttering something about needing air but he stops me half way and slams me against the wall, blocking my escape.
"You're not fucking going anywhere.”
His eyes are black fire and the veins on his neck are bulging. I've seen him angry before, yes... but not like this. Not with that final tone, like he's already made up his mind.
He's going to kill me.
I take a step back as my throat dries up. "Johnny please… let go."
"No."
I make the mistake of turning because my instincts scream run. I pivot toward the door, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I don't make it two steps. His hand clamps onto my shoulder, fingers digging into muscle, spinning me around with a force that snaps my neck back.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
He shoves me and I stumble, hitting the wall hard. Before I can draw a breath, he's on me. His hands- hands I used to hold, hands I used to kiss- wrap around my throat.
He squeezes.
My windpipe crushed inward. I claw at his wrists, my nails tearing into his skin but he doesn't flinch. He's staring right into my eyes and there's nothing human left in them. I wheeze, a pathetic whistling sound escaping my lips as I gasp for air that isn't there.
"J-Johnny, don't-" I plead.
"Shut the fuck up," he glares at me. "You're so fucking pathetic. You think anyone else would want you? You're nothing without me."
Somehow, I manage to slip under his grip. I make a run for it, my bare feet against the hardwood but I already know I'm not fast enough. His hand closes around my arm, jerking me back and slamming me back into the wall so hard my teeth rattle. I choke on a cry as he puts his hands on my neck again.
Stars explode in my vision and my ears begin to let out a high pitched ring. I'm going to die here.
Somewhere to my left, Jasper barks frantically. My sweet boy. His claws scratch the floor as he throws himself against Johnny's leg, growling as he does so.
"Get the fuck off me!" Johnny gets angry as he kicks our dog's back leg harshly.
The sound Jasper makes when he yelps is one I'll never forget.
Rage overpowers my panic and my fingers fumble desperately against the side table... for anything, anything at all I can use.
I feel myself gripping onto something cold and ceramic. The vase. The heavy blue vase my mother gave us.
With every ounce of fading strength I have left, I smash it against the side of Johnny's head.
The vase shatters against his skull with a sickening crack and his grip loosens instantly.
I collapse to the floor, coughing, wheezing and dragging in great ragged gulps of air.
He stumbles back, his hand flying to his head. There's blood. And before he can react, he blinks once... twice, and then falls. His body hits the floor with a loud thud.
With that, the house is so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Well, except for Jasper's whimpering and my ragged breaths.
Then it finally hits me.
He's not moving.
My heart races faster than I knew was possible and my hands begin to shake uncontrollably as I crawl toward him, half expecting him to leap up and grab me again. But he doesn't. His chest isn't rising.
"Johnny?" I stare at him... waiting for something.. any sign of life. But the only movement I see the blood seeping from his hairline.
I stumble back, my spine hitting the wall and my breath coming out shallow and rapid. "Oh my God," I whisper. "Oh my fucking God."
He's dead
I killed him.
Panic courses through my veins. I should call the police. That's what normal people do. But I can't. Johnny's threats echo in my head, he knew the chief. He'd spun a web of lies about me for years. She's unstable, he'd tell them. She's off her meds. They'll see a dead man, a "psycho" girlfriend and I'd rot in a cell.
He had half the precinct eating out of his hand. He had friends there. They'd never believe me.
No. No cops.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I grab his limp arms and drag him across the floor, my body aching with every pull. He's heavy, so heavy, but adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I get him into the guest room, shove him inside and slam the door. My fingers shakes as I twist the lock.
I can't look back.
I run. I tear through the house, into our room, grabbing the bags I'd hidden away weeks ago. I've been ready for this, mentally at least for months. I open the closet. The duffel bags are already packed, hidden behind his winter coats. I grab them, tossing in the cash I've been siphoning off from grocery runs, rolled in socks. I don't even feel my body moving... just this frantic need to get out.
I grab the boxes I'd stashed under the bed. I shove everything into my arms and run to my Lexus. I throw them in the trunk, onto the backseat, anywhere they fit.
Jasper limps towards me, his back leg bleeding and his tail tucked between his legs. "It's okay, Jasper. We're getting out. I promise." I whisper through my tears as I lead him to the backseat.
As I get into the driver's seat, I quickly reach for my phone in my pocket... but I don't feel it.
Where's my phone?
"No, no, no," I whimper. I need that phone. My banking apps, my contacts, the evidence I've been gathering... my life depends on it.
I tear through the bags, the boxes, the glove compartment.
It's back in the house. Fuck.
With speed I didn't even know I had, I scramble out of the car and sprint back into the house. I check the kitchen counters... the nightstand, the sofa cushions. Nothing.
I lunge for the landline to call it when pounding rattles the walls.
BANG. BANG.
My entire body jolts at the sound.
There's only one place that sound could come from.
The guest room door.
My heart stops for the millionth time.
He's alive.
"Scarlett!" His voice erupts through the house, hoarse and furious. "You think you can lock me up like I'm some fucking animal? Open this door!"
Tears blur my vision as my fingers fumble over the landline keypad. I misdial my own number twice before finally getting it right. My hands slick with sweat as I dial own number. The ring shrills.
"Please, please..." I whisper to myself, bouncing my leg, hoping I'll hear my phone and leave this hellhole before I die.
For a moment, it's just the quiet and I but then I hear a vibration. A faint hum in the living room. I see my phone light up on the top of bookshelf.
Once again, I sprint as my lungs burn and my throat aches. There it. Only God knows how it got up there. I get on my tippy toes and grab it my trembling hands.
"Scar..."
His voice has changed. It's wobbly, gentle, soft and sweet now. Just like the Johnny I first met. The Johnny who brought me soup when I was sick. The man I fell in love with two years ago. The one who promised me he'd never hurt me.
For a split second, I halt.
"Baby, I'm hurt," he whimpers through the wood. "Please. I'm bleeding. I'm sorry. I just... I lost my temper. You know I love you, right? Just open the door so we can talk."
My chest stutters with a traitorous ache. God, that voice. That voice... its poison. And I almost drink it again. I look at the bruise forming on my arm. I remember the feeling of him choking me. He's a chameleon. A hypocrite. A monster wearing a human suit.
The real him shines instantly when I don't answer. "You fucking bitch! Open this goddamn door or I'll kill you!" He pounds the door harder. The sweetness is replaced by a guttural scream of rage.
That breaks the spell.
Running to the car, Jasper whines as I throw myself into the driver's seat. I jam the key into the ignition, my hands shaking so hard I almost drop them. The engine thunders into action.
I leave the driveway,tires screeching against asphalt, leaving the only home I've known for five years behind.
I drive like a maniac until the house disappears from the reaver mirror. My chest is heaving.
Should I go to the cops?
I grip the steering wheel tighter until my knuckles turn white. I tried, countless times. The most recent is six months ago. I went to the station with a black eye. Johnny showed up twenty minutes later, calm, collected, joking with the officer at the desk - his old highschool buddy. He told them I was having an episode. He told them I did it to myself. They looked at me with pity, not concern. Go home and sleep it off, Scarlett. No. The police aren't an option. He's a sociopath and he's won them over. He always fucking wins.
I hear a quiet whimper from the back.
"Jasper?" I choke out.
I glance over. His leg is bleeding onto the seat cover. I reach back and stroke his head while keeping an eye on the road. "I'm so sorry I let this happen.”
Tears blur my vision. Where did I go wrong? I was a good person. I worked hard. I loved him. Why is this my life? Why do I have to run like a criminal while he gets to scream in that house?
My phone buzzes on the dashboard. A notification. Find My iPhone: Location Updated.
I stare at it in horror. He's tracking me. Of course he is. He installed the family sharing plan so he knows exactly where I am.
"I have to get rid of it," I whisper. "I have to destroy it."
But I can't just smash it. I need a phone. I need a map.
I drive for an hour, putting kilometers between us, eyes darting to every set of headlights behind me.
Finally, on the outskirts of the city, I see a figure sitting on a bus bench. A homeless man. He's holding a device, the screen glowing in the dark.
Good.
I pull over, parking haphazardly. I grab my phone and stumble out of the car. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, pain shoots up my leg. I'm limping. My neck hurts and I look down to see my arm is smeared with blood... mine or Johnny's, I don't know. I don't remember getting cut.
The man looks up as I approach. He tenses, puts his phone into his jacket and eyes me with suspicion. But then he takes in my appearance... the bruising on my neck, the blood, the terror in my eyes and his face softens.
"Evenin', miss" he greets me in a rough, tired voice.
I greet him back, my eyes looking up and down the road, terrified that Johnny's truck will appear any second.
"You okay there?" He asks. He doesn't ask what happened. He's lived on the streets; he knows trouble when he sees it.
"I... I need help," I stammer. "Can we trade phones?"
He looks at me surprised and blinks. "Trade?"
"Yes. Please." I hold out my iPhone. It's the latest model, pristine glass casing. "This is worth a lot of money. You can sell it. Pawn it, whatever.'
He laughs. "This thing ain't worth shit, lady. Barely works." He shakes his head. "Screen is cracked and doesn't even hold a charge."
"Does it have maps?" I ask desperately. "Google Maps?"
He looks confused. "I... I think so? My nephew put some games on it before I left."
"Check, please."
He pulls out a battered android, the screen a spiderweb of cracks. He taps it a few times. "Yeah. It's got the maps thing."
"Okay. Let's trade." I press my phone into his hand. "Please take it. Just... turn it off for a while before you sell it."
His looks at the sleek device in his dirty hand then back at me. He realizes I'm not crazy, I'm desperate.
"Alright." He hands me his phone.
"Thank you," I gasp. I limp back to the car.
"Hey! Wait!"
I stop and spin around.
The man is digging into his rucksack. He pulls out a small, crumpled wrapper. He walks over and holds it out to me.
It's a plaster. A single, small band aid. He nods toward my bleeding arm. "Take care of yourself, kid."
A sop catches in my throat. I take the plaster, my fingers brushing his calloused ones. "Thank you." I force a weak smile.
I hurry back to the car and throw myself inside.
I drive until the fuel light screams at me. I pull into a desolate gas station. I keep the engine running while I fill up, constantly scanning shadows.
I get back in and look at the cracked phone. It connects to the gas station's open WiFi. Immediately, a loud jarring fanfare blasts from the speaker. Candy Crush.
I flinch, jabbing the volume buttton to silence it. I open Google Maps. I already know where I'm going.
It's a small town I'd researched months ago: Silver Creek. According to the reviews on Google, it's quiet, safe and has a small population. Exactly what I need.
Amy told me about it too... she lives nearby and said it was the kind of place people disappear to when they need to start over or just go off the grid for a while.
So that's next destination. My last chance.
The route loads. Eight hours.
I look at Jasper in the rearview mirror whose asleep now.
I put the car in gear. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there. But as I pull onto the highway, heading into pitch black night, I know one thing.
I'm alive.
I press the accelerator and I don't look back.
