Saving Max

Chapter 34

"I'm assuming you got my present that I left for you last night." David says, taking a threating step towards me as he speaks, his eyes holding an astonishing amount of malice as they hold my steady gaze. I don't move away from him, but instead let him get as close as he dares to, digging my heels a little further into the asphalt, trying to stand my ground. I can feel my heart beating hard against my chest, my fear numbing every bone in my body as I stare up to David. It's easy to put a neutral expression on my face, but inside I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified.   

"I'm not sure I liked it very much." I tell him in a bored tone, raising my eyes daringly as I press a hand to my hip, trying to seem indifferent to him. Not trying to show him my anger. Or my fear. 

"I rather enjoyed myself." he tells me, crossing his arms over his chest with a surprisingly easy smile on his face. "Destroying everything that's important to you and that little shithead you call a boyfriend. It made me extremely happy, tearing your life apart." he looks away, like he's remembering thoroughly every twisted thing he did to us, a disgusting gleam in his eyes the entire time.

I see this as an opportunity- his distraction- and take a deep breath, not letting myself think about it any further before lunging forward and grabbing his arm tight in my grip. I have to grab his forearm with both of my hands due to how muscled it is. One of my hands couldn't fit all the way around it. I pull at him with as much force as I can muster, trying to throw him away from me, getting him out of my way so I have a clear path to my car. When I pull at him, however, he barely even budges. He looks slightly surprised, yet slightly amused, and stares at me for a couple of seconds before he even begins to do anything about it. He rips my hands off of him, gripping both of my wrists tightly in one of his hands, pinning them above my head as he presses me against the cool brick of the school. I let out a small whimper, struggling under the weight of his grip that I can feel crushing my bones in my wrist.

"You don't want to do that." he snarls in my face, his mouth lingering too close to my own as the words leave his slimy lips. I don't look away though. I can't make myself do it.

I just stare at him, without the courage to say anything to his face.

He looks at me for a second longer before shaking his head, yanking my wrists forward and tossing my to the ground, almost as if I'm some sort of rag doll to him. I put my hands out in front of me to brake my fall out of instinct, my palms taking the brunt of the fall that faces me. I fell the skin scrape off of them as I hit the ground, the blood staining where I and instantly, seeping into the pavement where I lay. I wince to myself, slowly picking them up and brining them close to my face to inspect them. There's small rocks imbedded in my hand, the long streaks of fresh pink skin being accompanied with small bubbles of blood on various spots on both of my hands. I feel an ache in my left thigh, too, another place that hit the ground pretty hard do to the force of just a simple shove from David.

I'm never going to be able to get away from him.

"You're a stupid little girl, you know." he growls, shaking his head as he looms above me. I don't make any move to stand up, afraid that if I do I'd be too weak to stand on my own. Afraid that I'll fall right back down.  But along with this fear, I'm also afraid that he'll feel superior over me- more than he already does- by looking so far down on me due to my seat on the ground. Not wanting this to happen, I struggle to get to my feet, trying not to put to much pressure on my hands as I push myself up. I walk as straight as I can with the throbbing pain in my left leg the couple of steps it takes me to get to the wall, leaning against it with a great, yet soft, sigh of relief.

"I need that kid back." David says to me, but he sounds like he isn't really talking to anyone at all. It's probably the most desperate thing I've ever heard come out of his mouth. If I didn't know how sinister and twisted he is, I probably would've believed him, too. "Social services came by yesterday morning." he shakes his head again, walking up next to me and pounding his fist against the wall dangerously close to my head. "I had to lie to them and say that he was at a study group with a couple friends." he lets out a deranged laugh, running his hands through the little bit of hair he has left. "They believed it, too, and said they'd come back next week to check up on hm. They believed the kid had a study group." A deadly pause passes between us. "What eight year old has a fucking study group?"