I fought and tried to leave, but in the end, he won.
Miro won.
They held me there for a while before my dad and mom helped him drag me to his car, no matter how much I screamed for help no one helped me.
No one saw all of it happening.
Ezal? He watched it happen with no emotion on his face.
"Your boyfriend must not love you if he didn't come lookin' for you," Miro teases while laughing, "we always will be together."
He runs his rigid hand across my bruised face, "these marks are a sign that you're mine and I'll continue putting them on you as a reminder," I lay my head against the cold glass of the window and it cools my body temperature some.
He grabs me by my hair and says in an aggressive tone, "do you understand? You're mine!"
He yanks harder and my mind turns vulnerable. I feel so powerful when I'm around King because I know I'm protected and no one can hurt me, but with Miro... I feel hopeless. I know he'll always win because of how big he is and I never get the chance to get my hand on a weapon to cause any damage.
"I hope you know when King finds me, he's going to kill you," I say knowing it's the truth.
I would kill him myself if I could get ahold of the gun he has.
He moves his other hand to my cheek, squeezing on it so hard the sides of my teeth dig into the sides of my mouth, "he isn't here! And he isn't so powerful to me as he is to others," he moves his face closer to mine, "and before he ever gets the chance to kill me you'll die first and I'll kill my self right beside you."
He's a literal psychopath.
He releases my face aggressively and I press my back onto the seat again.
When we first left out I tried calling King when he was putting gas into the car, but my phone died. I placed it under my thigh so Miro doesn't know I have it, and I know Liam could find me just by tracking it.
I hope... because it is dead.
I would just rather be like my phone, dead, than be with this man. I could feel a panic attack raising and I can see it in my hands. Every time I get angry or anxious my hands shake.
All of my emotions are connected to my hands and King seems to be the only person that understands that. He lets me play with his hand as a distraction so I don't have to play with my own.
If I get out of the situation I hope I don't go back into my old state of mind, I hated that stage in my life and I recently got out of it.
I pay attention to every sign we pass and every road he exists off of just in case he stops again.
I could feel his disgusting hand creeping up my thigh and he has the nerve to say, "we're going to stop when we reach Louisiana and finally get a well-deserved good night's sleep... together, and maybe make a little love."
The only logical thing he's never done is make me have sex with him, even though it's the bare minimum.
"I don't want to have sex with you," I say lowly not bothering to look at him.
There's a pause.
"How else will we remake our dead baby,then" he squeezes on my thigh and my hands make themselves into a fist.
"It wasn't a baby," I respond with a shaken voice and I feel the car stop, I do look up seeing we're at a stop light, but as soon as I reach over to open the door the light turns green.
He went to prison for beating me for getting an abortion, why doesn't he see I don't want a child with a motherfucker like him? I will never bring a child into an abusive relationship.
"You must be one of those pro-choice, now," he laughs.
Yes.
"Duh, wanna-be," I respond rolling my eyes at his stupidity. All abusers are selfish.
Miro is the type of man every woman should run away from. He wants to be Andrew Tate.
He has him as his lock and Home Screen.
Watches him like he's a religion.
Believes all of the shit he says.
And do get me started on the rants I used to have to listen to.
He does an illegal U-turn into an abandoned store, "you know what's about to happen right," he asks with a low but aggressive tone.
He's about to hit me.
Before he could get the chance to lay a finger on me I punch him right on his nose with all the force I have, "you're not," punch, "going to put," punch, "your hands," punch, "on me ever," punch, "again."
There's blood on my hands and I feel please with myself when I see he's knocked out. Not giving it a second thought I get out of the car, grab my phone, and run as far as I can.
I'm not sure which direction I'm going all I know is not to look back and to get as far away from that car as I can.
I stop at Buc-ee's because there are lots of people here and I can charge my phone.
Walking to the charger section my hands are shaking so bad I can't even plug it in, getting frustrated at myself I let out a loud sigh and someone standing next to me asks, "do you need help?"
Without me having to answer they take my phone and pull it in for me, "back up," another someone threatens the nice man that helped me. Turning my head I see it's a man in all black.
That's not good.
"Sorry dude," the guy walks off and the man in all black whispers, "I work for King."
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