"Sam, what the hell?" I gasp, storming into the room. I don't even think, I just toss the grocery bags aside.
They hit the floor with a dull thud, a carton of milk spilling out. I feel the rage surge through me, hot and immediate, as I watch him hurriedly pull out of his mistress.
He stares at me with those pleading eyes, the ones that usually work, but not today.
"Calm down, Gia... just calm down, okay?" He hushes me gently, but I know better than to listen to him. I know that tone. It's the one he uses when he's trying to smooth things over, to manipulate the situation back into his control.
My gaze shifts to the girl laying next to him. She quickly adjusts her dress, yanking the fabric down, and then covers herself with the rumpled sheets. She looks intimidated by me, obviously, and she can't even think of speaking. Good.
"Calm down? Are you f-cking kidding me right now?" I groan, sliding my hands through my hair, gripping the roots until it hurts. The engagement ring on my finger feels like a cheap, cold piece of metal.
He slips on his trousers, not even bothering with his boxers. "What do you want me to say?" he asks, and it's the most infuriating thing he could have said. Like this is some minor inconvenience.
I scoff, fighting back the hot tears that threaten to spill. I will not cry in front of them. "Sam, we're bloody engaged. I'm pregnant with your child. I quit my job for you—"
"Job, what job?" He says it condescendingly, a nasty smirk playing on his lips. "A stripper? You've got to be kidding me." He laughs, a short, ugly sound.
"How are you even sure the child is yours, baby?" The mistress purrs from the bed, and I shoot her a glare that could shatter glass.
"Not everyone is a whore like you," I snap back, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
"That's rich coming from you," She laughs, actually throwing her head back like this is all a big joke.
Sam just digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a thick wad of cash. He moves towards me and I just stand there, numb. He pulls out my hand, places the money in my palm, and forcibly closes my fingers around it. The paper feels rough and dirty.
"I guess there's no better time to say this than now," he states, his voice cold and final. "The pregnancy was a mistake. Take this and abort the kid. I'll send you extra to leave me alone."
My heart stops momentarily. The words don't make sense at first. "What?" It's the only syllable I can force out.
"You heard me." He clears his throat, looking annoyed. "Stop acting like you're deaf."
"This isn't what you promised me, Sam!" I croak as the tears finally prick out of my eyes, traitorous and hot. "You promised me that we would get married, have children and I wouldn't need to be a stripper anymore." I sound like a naive child who just learnt the alphabet, but saying it aloud helps me spell "M-O-R-O-N" on my own forehead. I was such an idiot.
I was warned. By my colleagues, by my own gut feeling. But I just wanted to get out of that life so badly, wanted to start something new. I wanted to prove, so desperately, that I wasn't impossible to love. And he was so promising. He changed my car, showered me with gifts, and before I knew it, I had moved in with him. It all just went by like a whirlwind, and now I'm pregnant and engaged to the monster standing in front of me.
"I said whatever I needed to say to get you in bed, Gia. I always get what I want," He smirks, leaning closer, his breath hot on my face. "And right now, what I want isn't you." His mistress makes her way from the bed, slipping his shirt over her body. She stands close to him, hugging him from behind, claiming her territory. My stomach twists at the sight, a bitter taste settling on my tongue.
"I need to marry Constance. She's the perfect bride I would need if I ever want to advance and solidify my position as CEO in my father's company. Not a cheap slut like you," He declares it like he's been waiting to make this speech all day, but I know better. I know his real secret.
"So killing your brother wasn't enough?" I scoff sharply, watching the smug look on his face disappear, replaced by pure shock. I saw him that night. I was downstairs getting water when I saw him do it, in the living room while he thought I was asleep. He poisoned his older brother, Victor, and then calmly called the police, lying that he had a seizure.
Constance pulls away from him, shock spasming through her eyes. "Honey, what is she talking about?"
"Come on... you can't possibly believe this psychopath." Sam tries to recover, but his voice is tight.
"Until I send the video to the police, Sam," I say, my voice low. "I'm not going to leave without anything, Sam. Make your choice."
The color drains from his face, leaving him pale and shaken. I turn to leave, my legs feeling like jelly. I need to get out of here. As soon as I leave the room, I hear a rumbling sound from behind the door.
"I can't believe you killed Victor! I was meant to marry him and not you..." Constance's voice erupts through the room, high-pitched and hysterical. I stop for a moment, listening.
"Me what?" Sam's voice cuts through hers sharply.
"You're a murderer!" She screams.
"And you're a whore. It didn't take three weeks for you to come into my bed after he died. Don't f-cking play righteous now," he snarls back.
"That's not the same... that's it! I'm calling the police!"
The ruffling sounds get louder, more quick. Before I can lean in to hear another word, a gunshot erupts through the room, deafeningly loud.
My legs wobble as I hear Constance gasp, a soggy, choked sound, right before another shot rings out. Oh shit. He shot her. I start running, my heart hammering against my ribs, heading for my room when I hear Sam's footsteps tumbling down the hall. He's coming. He's looking for me.
What have I done? I run into my room, slamming the door behind me. My hands are so shaky I can barely turn the lock. My heart pounds a heavy rhythm against my chest as I search for my phone in my pocket, my fingers fumbling to dial 911. A loud, heavy knock cuts through the silence, and the phone slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor and skittering under the bed.
"Open this door, Gianna!"
"Go to hell!" I curse back as I drop to my knees, searching under the bed for my stupid phone. It's dark under there, all dust and shadows.
"You should be happy now, huh? You've ruined everything!" he roars from the other side of the door.
"No, everything is ruined because you're a liar and a cheat!" I yell back, my voice cracking. Then I let out a sharp gasp. I don't see my phone, but I sight the cold, dark metal of the gun I keep for protection, tucked far under the bed. I start trying to reach for it, stretching my arm until my shoulder aches, but it's just out of my grasp. My fingers barely graze the cold handle.
He shoots again, this time at the door knob. The wood splinters and the lock gives way. He comes rushing into the room, his eyes wild, and without a second's hesitation, he shoots right at my leg.
A white-hot, searing pain explodes in my thigh and a loud scream of agony leaves my lips. But the pain gives me a final, desperate burst of strength. I finally get a solid grip on the gun, my fingers closing around the handle just as hot tears pour from my eyes.
He notices the movement and shoots again, this time hitting my arm. The impact is brutal, and I bite back another scream, my teeth grinding together. He hovers over me, his dark eyes piercing through me, devoid of any humanity.
"Your life was already ruined, Gianna. You should be grateful to me. I gave you what you would never have even in death. Pathetic bitches like you deserve to rot in hell where the unloved, miserable souls like you are. The world would even do me a favor. I'm getting rid of a useless creature like you," He spits in my face. The spittle is warm and disgusting on my skin.
My grip on the gun finally tightens, my finger finding the trigger. But I'm too slow, too weak. Before I can pull it up and aim, three rapid, concussive blows are drilled into my skull. The pain that shifts through me is impossible, unimaginable. It's a blinding white light and a deafening roar inside my head. I feel blood spill out of my mouth as I fight hard, so hard, to keep my consciousness. My child... not my child...
He smirks down at me, a victor's smile, and grabs my wounded leg, starting to pull me out from under the bed. He's ready to finish the job. But I'm not done. With the very last of my strength, a strength I didn't know I had, I raise my hand, the gun feeling impossibly heavy. I don't even aim, I just close my eyes tightly and squeeze the trigger.
A rapid fire of shots echoes in the small room. I feel the gun kick in my hand with each one. I hear him grunt, then choke, then a heavy thud as he falls to the ground. When I force my eyes open, I see his eyes are wide with shock.
My own consciousness finally slips away then. My grip on the gun loosens and it drops from my fingers. The darkness slowly closes in, thick and welcoming, as my eyes shut. Then, a voice, cold and utterly alien, harrows into my mind like a distant warning.
[Reaper's Access; DECLINED]
[Introducing Corrupter's Protocol.... enrolling host... entering abilities...]
[Upload, complete!]
[Congratulations, Willow Grace Sutton!
You've been selected by the Homewrecking System, an elite division under the Corrupter's personal command.]