48 Amanda

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Author's Note:

This is the second chapter of another double update.

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The door pushed open and I saw the face of my terrifying situation.

And I recognized it.

And for one crazy moment I was actually glad to see him, because he wasn't a vampire or a zombie or a demon or whatever sort of insane overpowered creature. Just a regular mundane manipulative abuser. I could cope with that.

Then his dark brown eyes bore into me, and a chill went down my spine. If he was willing to go this far, I was still fucked either way.

"Amanda. I missed you, baby girl."

My survival instincts urged me to fall back into the compliant submissive behaviour I had been trained to the sound of his voice. "I missed you too," I said, almost automatically.

He smiled and it made me want to vomit.

No, I wasn't going to let him control me like this again. I gathered my courage and added, "Like I missed the flu. No, the flu isn't that bad. Like the Black Death maybe?"

His smile dissolved as I was pushed forward into the house past him.

"I see you've learned to be reckless."

"I see you haven't learned to be original. You're an obvious psychopath villain. If this were a movie I was watching I would have called this in the first act. Like, why not move on and live your—"

He slapped me hard across the face.

Blood welled in my split lip, but I forced myself not cower. I was afraid. My heart was pounding and it was all I could do to stop myself from trembling. I would be stupid not to be, but I was even more afraid that it would go back to the way it used to be. "Could you be more stereotypical, Steven? Abusive spouse comes back to harass his victim the sequel? But I'm done with the victim role, so—"

"Gag her," he said, sounding weary already. Good. I hoped he was so tired of me he'd throw me away.

Less good, the driver shoved the mangy cloth back in my mouth and then tied it in place with that equally gross cloth. Did these assholes not know how to do laundry?

"Fuk ew, icro ick."

The other bastard kept my arms locked behind my back. I tried to break out of his hold with jerking spasms. There were tons of throwable objects in sight and I wanted to break them on Steven's fucking face for this and for everything he had done to me in the past. I didn't care if he hurt me for it, I wanted vengeance. I wished that I'd given Porter his name and address that first time he'd threatened Steven and then pretended ignorance to what would happen next. If I'd for one minute believed he was still after me, years later...that my lingering fear of him wasn't all in my head.

"You can let her go, I want to speak with her. Stand guard outside."

My arms were released and I instantly grabbed for the gag.

"I wouldn't do that," he said, pulling a shiny piece of metal out of a kitchen drawer. I paused. Steven hadn't had a firearm before. He could have killed me before, he'd come a little too close a few times, but a much more efficient means of doing so didn't make me feel better about my situation.

"You understand, sweetheart?"

"Yeh."

"Then hands down and be a good girl." I complied. The door shut behind the two thugs.

"Go that way," he said, indicating the hallway with a wave of the gun. I decided it was strategic to behave and I let my shoulders slump down as I walked forward. It wasn't too hard to cooperate because a huge part of me knew that the least painful way to endure this would be to just go along with whatever he wanted.

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