35

“I’ll do it,” Vivian protests. “I don’t want you putting your hands on this filthy little cunt anymore.”

Her jealousy gives me a momentary thrill, but I’m quickly brought back to the danger I’m in.

I hear a scuffle from the two of them fighting over something, but barely. One of my ears is sharply pressed down beneath the weight of my head, and my other ear is being crushed underneath Vincent’s hand. All I can hear is the fierce and rapid pounding of my own heart in fear of whatever it is they’re getting ready to do.

With a quick and sudden pull to my top, I hear the fabric rip around my right arm. I assume their motives are perverted and sexual, but then…

“What the fuck!” I cry out in a shrill sob as a sharp, searing pain cuts into my shoulder.

I can tell by the size of the hands that Emmett won out over Vivian, which I want to take some small comfort in. He seems to be leaning toward taking it easier on me. After all, if I’m dead, he can’t fuck me. So, in a weird, twisted way, he’s