Part of Chapter 1
He had her by the hair on her
knees. The gun was placed at the back of her skull where it was sure to rip
straight through her spinal cord killing her almost instantaneously. As long as
it was quick, she didn't care. Laurissa Fox would have killed herself already
had she not stopped herself in the bathroom only yesterday. The razor blade was
still there, waiting at the edge of the sink for her to use. Now she wouldn't
need it, she thought. In fact, he would be doing her a favor, taking this
burden from her shoulders.
The man holding her down with the gun could tell that she wasn't afraid. She wasn't shaking. There was no pleading for her life. She seemed resigned. Quiet . . . still . . . waiting . . .
“You do understand that I'm going to blow your head off,
right?" he said with surprise. His British accent did nothing to soften
the harshness of his voice. "There's no coming back from that . . . You'll
be dead. Don't you care?"
"Why should I?" she asked. "You want me
scared? Because it's not going to happen. You can't scare someone whose not
afraid to die . . .Whose already dead inside . . . Now are you going to shut
the hell up and pull the trigger or what?" she asked, staring at the
Persian rug her knees were sinking into.
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