To Leap From Heaven [A Romantic Thriller]

30.

With one hand she grabbed his wrist, and pointed the firearm to the ceiling. The safety catch was already released, and a shot went off hitting the overhanging chandelier, and sprinkles of Swarovski crystals tinkled to the ground. Anchoring her body on one leg Catherine raised her free leg, and with bent knee hit Carl in the groin. Pain ripped through his body and he gave a wild cry, which was a mixture of pain and frustration, and his cry rang throughout the house. His hands opened and he released the grip on Catherine's throat while the firearm fell from his hand and spinning, came to a standstill at the foot of the divan.

While Catherine gasped for air, Carl cupped his crotch with both hands. The pain was excruciating, and the fact that she had caught him off guard made it worse. Catherine saw the firearm and went to pick it up. Through half closed eyes Carl saw her intention, and with a sudden lunge he grabbed her ankle. There was a small round table close to her, and when she fell, she bumped her head against it, and the ornate vase which stood on it came shattering to the floor, littering it with broken pieces. Carl dragged her back to him, but she dug her nails into a piece of carpet close by. A few of her nails broke, but she did not feel the pain. As Carl pulled her to him, some pieces of glass cut into her flesh, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. With her free foot, she kicked back, and succeeded in digging her heel into one eye.

“You bitch. I'll get you for this. I'll kill you. F*ck The Chair. You're a dead bitch.”

His grip tightening around her ankle, because he was aware that whomever reached the gun first, would be the one in charge. As much as he hated his life, he did not want to die. Not like this, and not at the hands of that whore. He had come too far, and killed too many people to reach her, and to die like that would be a disgrace. A life-and-death tug-of-war ensued. Carl dragged Catherine closer to him while she desperately reached for the gun. For every inch she gained he dragged her back two inches.

He reached the calf of her leg, and held it in a vice-like grip. Catherine struggled to free herself, and with her free leg she kept on digging at his face, while he tried to grab hold of it, but because of his one swollen eye he could not see properly. Catherine kept on trying, and with one last desperate kick she hit him in the face. Carl screamed in agony, and letting go, he held his face in both hands with blood streaming from his nose.

Catherine gave one quick lunge, and taking the firearm firmly in both hands, she fired shots into the air. Carl had lost the battle, and jumping to his feet he fled in the direction of the door while shouting, “You bitch, you broke my nose. You're gonna pay for it. You're as good as dead.”

Catherine rolled on her back, and fired a quick volley of bullets in the direction of the fleeing shadow. She heard another scream and realized she must have hit him. She slowly got to her feet, and surveyed the mess the room was in. Catherine neatly deposited the firearm onto a nearby table , and first her hands, and then her whole body started to shake. She couldn't believe she had fired to kill, and she silently thanked her father for it. Jim Rossdale had often taken her to the shooting range, but she had always refused to try it, until he had convinced her that the paper man she would be shooting at wouldn't bleed or die, after which she had tried it. It felt good, but after a while she had stopped going. The practice shooting had come in handy today.

Catherine went into the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. What she saw did not surprise her. She was a mess, and there were cuts and bruises on her face. She removed her pj's, and the rest of her body was in no better shape. Listlessly she turned away from the image, and turned on the shower. She felt the warm and comforting water running down her body, stinging the cuts. She winced one, but did not allow it to affect her too much.

Her eyes filled with tears which mixed with the running water. Suddenly she broke down, and her body shook uncontrollably as she cried her heart out. She did not hold back. She let it all out. Unable to stand she slowly sank into a sitting position. It was not her cuts, but her broken heart and bruised soul that was hurting. It was a pain that ran deeper than she had ever known. There seemed to be no beginning and no end. She sat until the cold water woke her up.

She was done with crying, and her heart had turned to stone. She climbed out of the shower a new woman. She got dressed which she topped with a trenchcoat, comfortable shoes, a black scarf which she tied under her chin and oversized sunglasses. The only luggage she took with her was the bag of cash which had accompanied her on her flight. It was a Godsend. Walking past the table she picked up the handgun and stuffed it in her cashbag. There was a swagger in her step, and she walked off the property like a woman with a mission.

Catherine had just turned vigilante.

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