My mind empties. All I can focus on is the warm blood trickling down my throat.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I’m afraid to deepen the cut by breathing or swallowing or nodding. Tears fill my eyes as he presses down harder. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Good girl. No one needs to get hurt.” He chuckles. “At least not yet, they don’t.”
“What do you want?”
The heaviness of the blade stays firmly pressed against me. If I try to move, it’ll slice right through my jugular. The way he holds both me and the knife suggests this man is a professional. Too late, I realize I should have listened to the warning bells ringing in my head instead of dismissing them as paranoia.
“There’s a message that needs to be passed along to your father.”
“My father?” I ask, confused about why he matters right now.