Jenalyn: Crossing Lines (#4) [Complete]

Chapter 30: Dane

Sunday, 3:21 P.M. EST

Jenalyn’s face splits beneath the force of my fist on her cheek. I probably took it too far, but I’m not even phased by it. 

Did she really fucking think she was going to walk out on me? 

Jena cries, covering her face for a moment before redirecting her protection to her belly. My blood rushes through my veins. I want to go for her belly. I really fucking do just to punish her for the stupidity she always displays!

I  remind myself that putting the death of this thing in her hands is the more powerful option. 

“Dane, I’m sorry! I- I won’t leave!” she sobs after a  few moments of trying to contain herself. 

“I know you won’t. The door is locked, genius,” I respond matter-of-factly. “What you’re going to do is take your little ass to the couch over there so we can pump your veins full of valium. That, or I’m going to break your nose.”

She wails, shaking her head as she trembles against the front door. “I can’t!” she cries. “I can’t kill my baby, Dane! You can break my nose if you want, please-”

I crack her in the face again, this time splitting open her other cheek. 

The part of me that wants to feel bad feels nothing. I’ve thought about this too hard and too long not to be prepared. I knew I’d have to hurt her, and I knew it’d need to be bad if she was ever going to fucking learn.

That’s where I went wrong with her in the first place, and damn did I learn my lesson. 

Not only did she leave me for this “Hayden” bullshit; Not only has she defied even the simplest of my requests; Not only does she continuously spit on and take advantage of the little bit of heart I have left…

She thinks she’s just going to turn around and walk away from me? Now?

After all of the times I've tried to force her away, only for her to decline?

That stupid fucking part of me couldn't feel bad for her if it wanted to. 

“Don’t fucking speak anymore,” I warn, my blood pulsing in a way I should enjoy right now.  “Do not fucking speak anymore, and go sit on the couch.”

She doesn’t listen, but I expected that. 

“Dane, no!” she cries out, once again covering her face as she notices my clenching fists. 

I beat her there though, knocking her in the jaw the moment my brain processes that she’s still got the nerve to try to defy me.  “Do you want to keep doing this?!” I scream in her face, which twists up in both pain and fear. 

How is she still so beautiful, even with blood pouring down her face and a look of terror in her eyes?

She wastes no time before responding, though the pain in her jaw causes her speech to slur. “I want to keep my baby!” she cries, lifting her arms above her head to try to block me. She cowers against the door, oblivious to the fact that each time she speaks, I grow more furious. 

Is she fucking stupid?

My blood is beyond boiling now. I don’t know if she’s got a death wish or what, but she’s fucking asking for it.

I shove her against the wall, watching her flinch and fall into another crying fit. I take a deep breath. “Do you want to fucking die?”  I growl, threatening her with my fists before continuing. “If I have to tell you one more fucking time to get over there-”

I think this is going to be her breaking point. She lets out a series of long cries instead of speaking, and trembles beneath my grip on her. 

“No Dane,” she sobs after a few seconds, begging me with her eyes to reconsider. “Please, I can’t kill her!”

My fist cracks against her skull two more times before her body falls limp against the wall, and she loses consciousness. I let her fall to the floor, breathing heavy as my heart races in my chest. 

I need a fucking cigarette.