To the Stars (Thatch #2)(70)

With a slowness that sent a chill through my veins, Collin dropped his head and turned to face me. When his body was facing mine, his head stayed down but his eyes lifted. “Do you want to repeat that?”

I didn’t move, and I didn’t respond. I knew he didn’t want me to.

He took one slow step toward me, and my body tightened in preparation for what was to come. He took another, and my eyes met his. He took another, and I turned and ran from the room.

I’d only made it two steps into the hallway before he grabbed on to my hair and slammed me into the hallway wall—the force sent a couple of pictures and a painting crashing onto the hardwood floor. My head bounced off the wall, and I tripped over one of the pictures as I tried to keep going, but he still had my hair fisted in his hand.

Collin pulled me back roughly until my back was to his chest, and he whispered into my ear, “Again. Do you want to repeat that?”

I blinked away the dark spots in my vision, and then realized I had blood dripping from my forehead. I swiped at it and whimpered when he jerked my head back. “Collin, please.”

“Please, what?”

“Don’t do this.”

He laughed, but it sounded more like a sneer. “Not a question this time. Repeat what you said,” he demanded.

I shook my head and a cry bubbled up my throat.

“Tell me what you said!” His entire body jerked with the force of his command.

“I hate you.” The words were a whisper, and I barely had them out before he moved from behind me and flung me onto the floor. I hadn’t had time to brace for the impact, and now it felt like my entire head was ready to explode.

Collin’s weight fell onto me quickly, his knees pinned my hands to the hard ground, and like he had done so many times this week, his hand went around my throat and squeezed. His hand forced a cry out of me, and I immediately began bucking underneath him.

“You hate me now? After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve given you?” he roared, and squeezed tighter.

I’d stopped fighting against him by the time he’d finished yelling. Hitting my head twice, losing so much blood from my forehead, and him cutting off my air made the fight go out of me faster than it ever had before.

When I was on the edge of losing consciousness, his fingers loosened one at a time, and I began choking as I tried to suck in air. My eyes were wide open as I looked around wildly, but when I caught the briefest glimpse of Collin’s, I’d wished I’d kept them closed.

Not lifeless. Still murderous. Not my monster. Something new, something terrifying, something I knew I would never see again because he was finally finished with me. Collin’s lips twitched into a quick smile, and he grabbed my hair in his hand as he stood up and began dragging me over frames and broken glass.

I think some type of cry was forced from my chest, but it sounded weak. My whole body felt weak. The left side of my face was wet and warm, and even though I could breathe freely now, I wasn’t sure how long I had before I could no longer keep my eyes open.

The hardwood below me changed to carpet, and something like horror spiked through my body when I realized he was dragging me through the guest room. In between trying to keep myself conscious, I once again thought that Collin must know about Knox, must have somehow known that he’d been in the house this afternoon—but then Collin kept dragging me until I was on tile.

I heard the bathwater turn on and whimpered in protest. We didn’t have a tub in our bathroom, mostly because Collin hated them, and whenever he cleaned me up or had some kind of water punishment, it was done in the shower—never the bath. Regardless, I hated those punishments, and didn’t want to have to fight this. But instead of undressing me like he normally would, Collin lifted me just to drop me into the large tub, which had hardly any water in it yet. I cried out when my body smacked down on the hard acrylic, and even though I didn’t try to get up, Collin pressed his hands against my chest to keep me in place after he put the stopper in to let the water start collecting.

I looked up at him in panic. His face was perfectly composed—he almost looked bored, as if he was watching grass grow. The murderous look had left, but in its place was an emptiness I’d never seen. I’d thought his eyes had been lifeless before—but this was like he was really dead.

“Collin. Collin!” I tried to yell, but my voice was hoarse and soft. “Collin, please!” I started breathing too roughly—but the movements made breathing harder from how much weight he was putting on my chest—and as the water rose higher and higher, I began hyperventilating. My thrashing in the tub wasn’t helping me. “Collin!”

He sighed, and his eyes drifted to where the water was splashing over the edge of the tub, and then down to his arms. “Now I’m going to have to change again.” He sounded annoyed by that, but he didn’t move his arms as the water rose higher up them and over his tie. “Which shirt should I wear tonight, Harlow? I think I’d like to wear my green tie. Do you know which one? Not the one with the design on it. The solid green one.”

“Collin!” I screamed over the water, and tried to raise my head higher when it started drifting over my lips.

“Well, do you know which tie, or not?”

“Forest green,” I spit out, and he nodded absentmindedly.

“Now, which shirt do I wear with that, Harlow, and don’t say black. I need to know.”