DON'T CHEAT ON ME!

CHAPTER 29: The Savior

Farmer’s POV:

The pain never leaves me. It’s there, gnawing at me, a constant reminder of what he did. The empty space in my mouth where my tongue used to be feels like a gaping wound that will never heal. Jordan took my voice, my dignity, and tied me up like I was nothing but a piece of meat. I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been here, bound and useless, forced to watch his madness unfold.

But tonight… tonight something changes.

Miracle comes.

I don’t know how, but the ropes around my wrists loosen. Maybe they’ve worn thin from my struggling, or maybe it’s divine intervention. Either way, when I feel the slack, I don’t hesitate. Slowly, carefully, I pull my hands free, wincing as the coarse fibers scrape against my raw skin. My heart pounds in my chest, fear and adrenaline surging through me.

I look up. He’s there.

That man who cut my tounge!

He’s shirtless, his chest glistening with blood—whether it’s his or someone else’s, I can’t tell. He’s a predator, circling his prey, and his prey tonight is Patricia. The poor girl is tied up, her eyes wide with terror, her body trembling. She’s screaming, begging him to stop, but it only seems to fuel him.

I feel the rage bubbling up inside me, hotter and fiercer than anything I’ve ever felt before. My hands curl into fists, my nails digging into my palms as I watch him. He’s a monster. He’s always been a monster. But this? This is the last straw.

I grab the first thing I can reach—a heavy wooden plank lying on the floor near me. My fingers grip it tightly as I rise to my feet, my body shaking with fury and determination.

“You monster!”

I scream in my head, though no sound comes out.

“I’ll make you pay. You’ll regret this.”

Jordan doesn’t notice me. He’s too engrossed in his sick game, too busy reveling in Patricia’s fear. His back is turned, leaving him completely exposed.

I raise the plank high above my head and swing it with all the strength I have left. The sound of wood meeting flesh is deafening, a sickening crack that echoes through the room. Jordan stumbles forward, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he collapses onto his knees.

He tries to turn, his face contorted with rage and confusion, but I don’t let him recover. I swing again, the plank slamming into the side of his head. Blood sprays across the room, and he crumples to the floor, motionless.

My chest heaves as I stand over him, the plank still clutched in my hands. He’s unconscious, but not dead. Not yet. I’m tempted to finish him off, but Patricia’s muffled sobs pull me back to reality.

I drop the plank and rush to her side. She’s tied up, her wrists raw and bleeding, her body vulnerable. My hands work quickly to undo the knots, fumbling in my desperation.

When she’s finally free, I peel off my long-sleeved shirt and hand it to her. She’s naked, trembling with both fear and cold.

“Here.”

I motion, pressing the shirt into her hands. I hope she understands my silent gesture.

She clutches the shirt tightly, tears streaming down her face.

“T-thank you..”

She whispers, her voice cracking.

I nod, my expression urgent. Using my hands, I sign to her:

“Go. Leave now. Before he wakes up. Hurry!”

Her eyes widen as she processes my frantic signals. She nods quickly, slipping on the shirt and moving toward the door.

But just as she reaches it, she stops. She looks back at me, her eyes filled with something I can’t quite place—fear, gratitude, and something else.

“What if he wakes up?”

she whispers, her voice trembling.

“I… I can’t leave you here.”

I shake my head, motioning for her to go, but she steps back toward me, grabbing my arm.

“No!”

She says firmly, her grip strong.

“We’re both getting out of here. Let’s go!”

For a moment, I hesitate, torn between protecting her and my own fear of leaving Jordan alive. But her determination is infectious. She’s right. We need to leave.

I nod, and together, we head for the door. My body protests with every step, my muscles weak and aching, but I push through the pain. The hallway is dark and silent, every creak of the floorboards beneath us making my heart race.

When we reach the front door, I glance back one last time. Jordan is still lying on the floor, his chest barely rising and falling. He’s alive, but unconscious.

We step outside into the cold night air. It’s sharp and biting, but I welcome it. It’s freedom.

“Keep moving..”

She whispers urgently, her voice shaking.

“I know the way.. to the forest. We’ll be safer there.”

I said in my gesture, she's following me as we disappear into the dense woods surrounding the house. The trees are tall and foreboding, their branches casting long, menacing shadows. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, every rustle of leaves making me jump.

“Do you think he’ll follow us?
Maybe this nightmare will finally end.”

She asks, glancing at me.

I look at her, then shake my head slowly. I don’t know. I can’t be sure.

“We can’t stop, Jordan is a monster!”

she says, more to herself than to me.

“We have to keep going until we reach the forest.”

I grunt in agreement, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as I struggle to keep up. My legs are weak, my body screaming for rest, but
I can’t stop. Not now.

We run deeper into the forest, the darkness swallowing us whole. The further we go, the more my fear starts to ease, replaced by a flicker of hope. Maybe we’ll make it out.

Jordan isn’t the kind of man who gives up easily. He’s a hunter, and we’re his prey.

She said and fear in her eyes.

“I'm not done with that guy!”

I whispered into my mind.

It's okay for now, though, we’re alive.

And that’s enough.