𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | mitch rapp

22. bullet wounds and baths

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
bullet wounds and baths

Staring down the barrel of a gun was never good. Staring down the barrel of a gun with a disturbed person on the other end of it? Even worse.

Angeline was frozen. Her heart thudded erratically and it felt like she couldn't breathe at all. Everything she'd ever learnt in her self defence lessons had gone out of the window. For the life of her, she had no idea what to do next.

"Z-Zimmerman?" Angeline tried to remain as calm as possible, holding her hands out a little the best she could with nothing but a towel wrapped around her.

The situation was not ideal to say the least. And she hated the part of her brain that said couldn't he have done this later when I was dressed? Because now was really not the time for her own sarcasm.

"N-No," Zimmerman clenched his eyes shut, his hand on the gun shaking. "No. You're bad, Angeline. Your family are bad people!"

"They are." Angeline nodded quickly, panicked. "But I hate them too, okay? I'm not like them. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I know that you don't want to hurt anyone either, right?"

"I'll save people," Zimmerman took a deep breath, suddenly less shaky like he'd had an epiphany. "Yes. Gonna save everyone."

His grip on the gun tightened, his finger inching closer to the trigger. Angeline felt her own hands shake as she glanced to the door, praying for Mitch to come inside. Although, unless he wanted to get off again, there was no reason for him to.

"Zimmerman, please," Angeline whispered, "Let... Let me help you, okay? You could put the gun down, and then we could talk. About whatever you like -"

"I'm sick of it!" He suddenly boomed, waving the gun. "Sick of being cooped up in here, watching terrorists on the news kill innocent people! I have to do something."

"Killing me won't solve anything, Zimmerman," Angeline attempted to sway him.

She'd read somewhere that saying someone's name made it feel more personal, so they'd feel guiltier about hurting you. However, Angeline wasn't sure if it was as effective when she only knew his last name and he had many psychological issues.

If she ever made it out alive, she was going to kill Mitch. She'd told him that Zimmerman gave her the creeps.

"Yes it will!" Zimmerman cried, "yes it will, yes it will!"

Angeline was studying him like a hawk, waiting for him to slip up - to be distracted for just a second. When he turned to run a hand through his hair, Angeline took it as her way out. She dove for his legs, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground.

Zimmerman was an ex-assassin, so she'd be stupid to think she could run past him or have the upper hand at all. Everything was a risk, but she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

He was collapsed beneath her, his gun still wrapped tight in his hand much to her dismay. Angeline thanked her past-self for wrapping her towel so tightly as she reached out to grab his wrist with both her hands before he could aim the gun at her. She tried to keep his hand pinned to the floor, struggling on top of him.

"Mitch!" Angeline screamed, "Mitch, help!"

Zimmerman's spare hand came up and grabbed her by the neck. She grunted, feeling her airways slowly being crushed, but she didn't weaken her grasp on his hand that had the gun- not even as black spots filtered her vision. She knew if she were to release him, he'd be able to just aim and shoot her off of him.