The shift in him was instant, sharp enough to make my stomach drop.
Before he could take another step, I rushed forward and slid between him and the door. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might tear out of my chest. The only thought screaming in my head was clear, ’if he left, everything was over.’
I spread my arms out weakly, like I could somehow block him, even though I knew how ridiculous it was. He was taller, stronger, faster. If he wanted to push past me, I would not even slow him down, but still, I planted myself there.
A dozen excuses raced through my head, each one clawing for attention.
We do not have food or clothes for a wedding.
People will notice if we disappear.
We need time... time to prepare.
I am still too weak; I can’t walk to an altar, can’t stand that long.
But every single excuse cracked apart the moment I imagined his reaction. Nothing sounded good enough. Nothing felt safe enough.
Josh turned toward me fully now. His steps were slow, deliberate, until he was right in front of me. My breath hitched.
The look in his eyes was no longer filled with madness or joy. No, this was worse. They were dark, cold, and empty of anything human.
The smile that had once twisted his face in dangerous delight was gone. What replaced it was stone. A grim, flat expression that chilled me to the bone.
The tension radiating off his body was suffocating. The air in the room seemed to shift, colder, heavier. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin as if I had been dropped into ice water.
Then he leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a whisper.
"If you don’t give me a valid reason," he murmured, low and sharp, "by the time I count to five... You cannot imagine what I will do to you."
My knees nearly buckled. Again, fortunately, I managed to balance myself.
He straightened, towering over me, and then the numbers began.
"One."
The sound was calm, but it struck like a hammer against my skull. My mind spun violently.
Say something. Anything. Think you, idiot!
Tell him you’re sick.
Tell him your body isn’t ready.
Tell him marriage now would ruin everything. Tell him... tell him...
But every thought felt too wrong. None of them felt strong enough to satisfy him.
"Two."
My chest tightened, breath short and jagged as a voice whispered in my mind, "If I die, tell Grandma I loved her casserole." It took every ounce of willpower not to snap at it.
My tongue felt heavy, my throat bone dry. Images flashed in my head...his belt slashing across my skin, his fists, his cold laughter when I screamed.
If I stayed silent, he would break me.
Say something!
But what? What could stop him?
"Three."
Tears welled in my eyes. The room tilted, spinning, as though the air itself was poisoned. I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Emma. Think of Emma. Don’t collapse. Don’t fail now.
Excuses tumbled through me like broken glass. We can’t marry because... because the world would know? Because people will ask questions? Because...
"Four."
The number scraped against my skin like a blade. His voice had not risen, not once, but that quiet control was worse than any scream.
I stared at him, frozen, panic squeezing the life out of me. My lips parted, but no sound came.
He’s going to say five. He’s going to destroy me. Say it, Elena. Say something real. Something that will stop him.
And then, at the very last second, the truth slammed into me like lightning.
"Wait!" I shouted, the word ripping out of me. My voice cracked as I stumbled forward, desperate, trembling from head to toe. "We... we can’t get married because..."
Josh froze, his expression shifting just slightly, but I could feel his rage lingering close. His eyes narrowed, cold and dangerous. "Because?"
I forced myself to breathe, to stay upright, though my legs shook violently. My voice came out in a rush, harsh and trembling.
"Because... because I am still married to Dave," I blurted out, each word slicing my throat. "You also know that we never signed the divorce papers. We are still... still tied by law."
The silence that followed felt endless.
Josh stared at me, his dark eyes boring into mine, searching for any crack in my words. My body quivered under his gaze, but I didn’t dare look away. If I did, he would know. He would sense the weakness.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change. He just stood there, still and sharp as a blade. My chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, every breath like a prayer that he would believe me. This text is hosted at novᴇlfire.net
And then, finally, his lips parted.
"You are correct," he said as his voice became dangerously soft.
I nodded quickly, too terrified to hesitate. "Y-Yes, you were there with him every time. We never signed anything. I am still Mrs. Morris on paper."
He kept staring at me, unblinking, for what felt like an eternity. I could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing against me, suffocating.
Then, slowly, he stepped back. His face shifted again, not back to joy, not to madness, but something darker. Resolved.
"I will take care of it," he said simply.
The words made my stomach twist violently. His tone was not rushed or angry. It was steady, cold, final.
Without another glance, he turned and opened the door. The hinges groaned as the metal scraped, echoing in the silence.
And then he was gone.
The slam of the door left me shaking, gasping for air I couldn’t find.
My whole body trembled as the weight of his words sank in.
He believed me. But he was going to "take care of it."
Which meant only one thing.
Whatever came next would be worse than anything I had faced before.