Chapter 184
**Megan**
There's a small patch of blood on the floor of the porch, and I can’t help but think that’s Max’s. Max is nowhere to be seen, and I can’t hear anything coming from the house. Quickly I walk through the kitchen to the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, there's a pool of blood. This must be where he hit Logan. It looks like a lot of blood. How is he still standing?
Trying my best to get those negative thoughts out of my head, I make my way upstairs to my room. I grab my phone off of the bedside table and dial 911. I’m sure Lorraine already has, or someone has, but I need to do something.
“911 what’s your emergency,”
“I need the police,”
“What’s this regarding?”
“Jonathon Wright is at my house, he’s,” I stop as a wave of nausea takes over me. I run into the bathroom and throw up in the toilet.
“Hello, hello,” I hear the person say on the other side.
“1 minute,” I say before I start dry heaving. When I finish, I gargle some mouthwash just to get rid of the taste and then hold the phone to my ear.
“Are you ok? We’ll send an ambulance out also,”
“I’m fine, I, he’s here, he is trying to kill me,”
“Are you somewhere safe? Can you hide somewhere safe?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply and look at the blood on my hands. I close my eyes before moving myself to my wardrobe. I don’t bother turning the light on. I go in and hide behind my collection of coats. “I’m safe,” I say quietly.
“What’s your name?”
“Megan,”
“Hi Megan, I’ve sent a police officer out to your location,”
“Ok,” I say and feel a wave of fatigue rush through me.
“Stay talking to me Megan; it sounds like you’re in shock,”
“I’m ok,”
“Is there anyone else with you?”
“I live with others, they’re looking for him,” I say. Then I hear my bedroom door open with a loud bang. I don’t need to see to know that’s him. That’s how he always opened my bedroom door. “He’s here,” I whisper.
“Stay calm,” the woman says.
“He’s going to kill me if I stay here,” I frantically whisper.
“The police aren’t far away,” I know that’s bullshit because of how far out we live.
The closet door swings open. Clenching my fist, I jump out from the coats. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would find me anyway. Being in a crouched position would only hinder my ability to fight him off.
Jonathan stands with sweat dripping down his face. His nose must have been bleeding because there's dried blood around it. He glares at me with the same eyes that I have. The hatred for me swirls through them. I stand my ground as I look at him, the fatigue and tiredness leaving my body as I face my biggest fear.
“You little bitch, how dare you run away from me,” he growls.
“This house is full of people; there’s nowhere for you to go,”
“I better make this quick then,” he states and moves closer. I step back, so I’m leaning against the small dresser I’ve been using since Logan broke my other one. I slyly place my phone behind me onto the top. “You know your mother was so much easier to kill,”
“She didn’t know how much of an arsehole you are, or she did, and that’s why she preferred your brother,”
“Or she’s a whore like you,” he says with a tilt of his head and a glare.
“The truth will come out,”
“No it won’t, I’ve been faking it for years, my father can’t even tell, all I need to do is pretend to be James, and you should see this look on his face, I’m not sure what you call it, it’s difficult when I don’t feel emotions,” he says. I hadn’t realised he’d moved closer. I was too focused on trying to get him talking. If he does end up killing me, I want to know that his lies are out.
“That’s sad; I feel sorry for you,”
“Don’t, it’s great,” he says grinning. “I mean it’s a little difficult to fake emotion,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “But the upside is, I don’t have to deal with those messy feelings of guilt after killing you,” he says and lunges towards me.
I dodge his fist and punch him in his already broken rib. He howls in pain before turning to grab me by my hair. He’s a real hair puller like a girl. I never noticed that before. He slams my head against the mirror. Seeing stars, I try to clear my vision, but he punches me in the face. I drop to the floor and look up at him, and the only thing I care about is that another mirror has broke—this time with my face.
Laughter bubbles up from me, making him scowl. He stops his fist mid-air and tilts his head at me.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I say between giggles. I think I’m going crazy. I should be worrying about him, but I’m upset that the only mirror that I can do my makeup in is broke.
“Crazy bitch,” he says, and it makes me laugh a little more.
“Pot calling kettle,” I retort. He growls and bends down to wrap an arm around my neck to then hold a knife to me.
“You know if you hadn’t screwed your teacher, this wouldn’t have happened,” he says in my ear. “Now I have to kill you,”
“Hurry up and get it over with, I’m not afraid of dying,” I say as I reach for a broken piece of mirror from the dressing table.
“I’d rather savour your death, and then I’ll finish the job on your boyfriend properly,” Holding the piece of mirror in my hand I wait for my chance. “From the look of things outside he won’t take much work,”
“You’ll be surprised,” I say through laboured breaths as he tightens his grip with his other arm around my waist.
“I saw you still like it rough,” he says, changing the subject. He’s been watching me, and I’m not sure for how long or from where.
Someone must be on their way back by now, and I’m finding it difficult to distract him any longer. His grip on my neck loosens a little. It’s then I feel his body press against mine. I hold the urge to cringe in. Having him this close to me makes me ill. He leans in and sniffs my neck, and as he does so, I feel his hand move under the shirt I’m wearing.
“I thought you were going to kill me or are you just all talk,”
“I want some fun first,” He licks up my neck and I almost throw up. “You love it really,”
“You repulse me,” I say in disgust.
“Your mother said the same thing the night she tried to leave,” he says. “So many lies,” he adds.
“Megan,” I hear Brett call.
“In,” I try to shout, but Jonathon presses the knife to my neck a little firmer. I feel it pierce my skin a little.
Brett comes into view at the doorway of my closet. He glares at Jonathon. He’s panting, and it looks like he’s been outside looking for me too.
“Let her go,” Brett demands of Jonathon.
“No, she’s mine, you always take my things, you do not have Megan,” Great, I’m a toy in his eyes. That explains a lot.
“Jonathon, I know you’re in there,” Brett reasons.
“This is Jonathon,” I manage to squeeze out. Brett frowns, and realisation covers his expression.
“Drew was right,” I frown a little, but I’m finding it difficult to concentrate with the knife still at my neck. Brett steps forward, and as he does, I hear footsteps.
“Megan,” Carl calls and then I hear movement before Carl comes into view. He’s panting, and there’s blood on his t-shirt. “The police are here,” I feel Jonathon tense a little. “Let go of her. It’s over,”
“Not until I’ve killed her,” Jonathon growls, and his arm tightens back around my waist as I struggle against his arm, it’s’ then I realise I still have the piece of mirror in my hand. I slice at his arm, making him let go in pain. I drop to the floor, trying to breathe in some much-needed air. I half expect him to go for me again, but he doesn’t. I turn and scramble away from him to see David is stood behind him with his arm around his neck, holding Jonathon in the sleeper hold. Where did he come from?
Jonathan struggles against him, but I watch as David calmly makes him pass out. David lets go before Jonathon is fully out and then punches him in the face knocking him out.
I hear sirens in the distance. David looks out the window and then turns his attention back to Jonathon.
“Megan,” Brett says to me as he kneels to me. “You’re ok,” he states. I nod, knowing it wasn’t a question, but I need to convince myself.
“Dad,” is all I say to him and let him hug me.
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