"YN! GET HERE NOW!" Brad bellows for a second time, making me wince.
I turn round and see that he's stood in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing me up suspiciously.
"What have you been doing?"
"Nothing Brad. I promise."
He steps closer and closer to me, forcing me to take some steps back, until I reach the counter and there's nowhere else to go.
"Isn't it Molly's feeding time?" He asks, squinting his eyes.
I begin to panic, but try my best not to let it show.
"O-oh yeah! I'll go up and do it now!" I stutter, making for the door, only to be stopped by Brad's hand latching painfully onto my arm.
"Bring her down. I want to see her eat."
I gulp hard, panic searing through my entire being. Brad releases his grip and I stumble to the door, desperately trying to think of a plan.
Making my way upstairs, nothing comes to mind, and I enter Molly's room on the verge of hysteria.
I look around for some sort of inspiration, I see nothing. But, something tells me to creep into the bedroom that Brad and I once shared. I consider it for a moment, pondering why I would feel compelled to go in there, but eventually I decide to trust my gut.
Quietly, I tiptoe across to our room, and begin to look for something, anything that'll give me an idea of what to do.
I rummage through drawers, riffle through my wardrobe to no avail. Fleetingly, I cast a hopeless look over to the bed. I shuffle over to it and crouch down, ignoring the pain it causes me. I lower my face low enough to the ground so as to look under the bed. Reaching my hands out, I feel my way around, losing ever more hope by the second, until my hand brushes against something solid. Something wooden.
Brad's New York Yankees Baseball bat.
I gasp with joy and retrieve it, almost crying with relief. Taking a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, I doubt myself momentarily. How the hell am I going to find the courage to use this?
Because I have no choice.
Closing my eyes and nodding to myself, I sneak back out onto the landing, and down the steps, stuffing the bat up my t-shirt in an attempt to hide it.
Reaching the bottom, I take a precautionary peek into the kitchen, and see that Brad is sitting at the kitchen table, and, as if by some miracle, has his back towards me.
Steadying my nerves once more, I tiptoe through the hall (avoiding the creaky floorboards) and slide the bat out from under my t-shirt, readying it.
Swallowing hard, I approach Brad silently from behind, raising the bar above my head.
Mentally, I count: 1, 2...
I swing the bat down with all my might, screaming when Brad moves aside, avoiding the blow all together. It makes violent contact with the table, sending a deafening boom through the house, and Brad launches out of his seat, spinning round and attaching his hand to my throat, squeezing it tight as a vice as he pushes me against the wall. My head collides with the wall with a solid thump and I cry out as best I can when the air is being trapped in my throat.
"I fucking warned you." Brad spits, teeth bared and the vein on the side of his head protruding.
He's squeezing so tight that his hand is shaking, and I thrash around, feeling myself go weaker and weaker.
"You've fucking ruined my life, so I'm going to ruin yours by ending it!"
"Please..." I croak out, kicking and throwing punches, though they don't land.
He slams my head backwards against the wall in an attempt to stop my resisting, and I can feel a small trickle of blood running down my neck.
My hands latch onto his forearms as my vision begins to blur, and I feel my face growing red in the struggle for air.
I choke out a few measley whimpers as my strength drains completely, and I'm unable to fight back.
Brad's grip tightens once more, and I choke one final time before my eyelids slowly roll shut, and my arms fall, body going limp.
In my final breaths, I feel Brad loosen his grip and I feel my back slide down the wall so my body is slumped on the floor.
The final sound I hear is the wooden baseball bat rolling off the table and hitting the floor with a clatter that echoes through my ears.
And then nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Norwegian Wood
Fanfiction"I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me." ~ A John Lennon Story. (Formerly called Yesterday.) {Mature Content}
