The world goes white for a moment. I’m on the ground, gravel digging into my palms. Something wet drips down my face and into my mouth. I taste blood.
He grabs me underneath my arms and begins pulling me off the road. I’m dizzy, and he has me halfway to the art store before I begin kicking and squirming.
“God dammit, Lucy!” he yells. I break free and spring to my feet. I lunge at him.
We topple to the ground together, rolling twice before I manage to pin him down. I put my hands around his throat and squeeze as hard as I can.
He kicks his feet. His face turns red.
Let’s kill let’s kill let’s kill
He bucks, throwing me off him. He scrambles to his feet and runs into the store.
I follow as he crashes through the store, knocking over a display and sending paintbrushes onto the floor. I leap over them.
He grabs a hammer from the shelf—the same sort that he used to kill Savvy, and I realize suddenly that he must have had it in his truck that night. He went back to his truck to grab something to kill me with.
This asshole.
I grab him by the back of his shirt, but it rips as he frees himself. He darts out the back door.
I sprint through after him, back into the thick, humid air.
He’s waiting for me on the other side, hammer poised. He swings it at my head, and I lean back just in time. The edge of it barely grazes my forehead.
I stumble back. He swings again, misses again, and I reach up to grab his hand, trying to yank the hammer free.
He shoves me and swings again. The hammer catches me on the chin this time, and the pain sends me scrambling back.
A moment of clarity flashes through my rage. I should run. I glance behind me, to where my car is just visible around the corner of the store.
He took my keys, I suddenly remember. My keys and my phone. I can run, but it would be with nothing.
A viciously satisfied expression crosses Emmett’s face as I stand there, blinking from the hit. It’s a familiar feeling—the panic of being trapped, the frustration of his having all the power.
I scream. It’s guttural, a sound I’ve never heard myself make before.
I charge at him, and the shocked expression on his face as I do it might be the most satisfying thing I’ve ever seen. We crash hard into the ground, a mess of limbs and grunts.
I claw at his arms, trying to grab the hammer. My knee connects with his chest, and his grip on the handle loosens as he gasps. I snatch it from him and spring to my feet.
He scrambles up as well, lip curled, his chest rising and falling too quickly.
I swing the hammer into his stomach.
He buckles over with a gasp and heaves. He holds out a hand, like he wants me to stop. I pause with the hammer poised to strike again.
He bolts upright suddenly and takes off running.
“Emmett!” I scream. I consider, briefly, sprinting in the opposite direction. But my feet have other ideas. I’m chasing him before I realize I made up my mind to do it, my anger driving me forward.
Distantly, I hear my own name. I don’t know whether it’s real, or whether it’s Savvy.
There’s a small patch of trees behind the store. Emmett runs into them, and I push my legs as fast as they’ll go. Emmett casts a terrified glance over his shoulder. Something about it is satisfying. Maybe this is what Savvy felt like when she killed that man. He deserved it.
“Better run faster, asshole!” I scream.
“Lucy!” the voice yells again. Not Savvy. Closer.
I’m close enough to almost reach Emmett. I stretch my hand out, my fingers grazing the fabric. I snatch it, yank it back into my fist. He yells as he tumbles to the ground, and immediately tries to get to his feet.
I lift the hammer over my head and bring it down hard on his leg. It makes a very pleasing crunch sound as he screams.
“Lucy!”
Emmett uses one leg for leverage as he dives forward on his knees, yanking the hammer from my grasp. It goes flying.
And comes to a stop at Ben’s feet.
He’s breathing heavily, eyes wide and horrified as he looks from me to Emmett.
“Oh my god, Ben,” Emmett pants. He uses his good leg to scoot away from me. “She’s lost it. She’s fucking lost it. She’s trying to kill me.”
Ben holds my gaze. I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. Blood smears across my skin.
I look down at the hammer. Back up at him.
He slowly reaches down and picks it up.
“He killed her.” My voice is low. It doesn’t sound quite right. “He killed Savvy, and he tried to kill me.”
Surprise flickers across Ben’s features. I can see the wheels turning, the interviews starting to loop in his head. I have no idea whether his research will back up my claim.