More Than Friends (Aarmau Fanfiction)[Completed]

Chapter 40|Just "Aphmau"

Gene rips my phone from my hand, flinging it several feet away with force that would certainly shatter it to pieces. I continue to struggle from his hold, thrashing violently. The more I struggle, the tighter he restricts me, like a cobra.

"I hope you didn't really care about that phone. What did you use it for anyway, some dirty pics?" He leans his head down, pressing more unpleasant kisses to my neck. He presses his hand harder against my mouth, preventing any breathing through it, and limiting it through my nose. "No wonder Aaron has stayed with you for so long. You've been providing him with something."

His focus on my neck causes him to slack in other areas, giving me the opportunity to elbow him in the gut. He grunts in pain, and I bite down hard on his hand, trying to avoid the taste of his skin.

As a reflex, he wips his hand away, removing one arm from my restraints. Struggling against him again, I try to assemble my scattered thoughts to come up with an escape. Through all the effort, my brain assembles one word.

Help.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP!" I cry, my scream becoming raspy with the tightening of my throat.

"You dirty b*tch," he growls, quickly returning that hand to its rightful place, my throat this time. "You just made this so much harder for yourself."

A tear slips down my cheek, soon joined by others.

He tightens his grip in all places, squeezing my neck. I struggle for air now, trying to pry his hand away with my own shaky hands.

"Gene, please stop," I choke, feeling the pressure in my chest as my lungs beg for oxygen.

All of the sudden, Gene slams me hard against the brick wall of my house. His hand lingers on my throat, starving my lungs to the point of pain.  

"Now why would I do that?"

He suddenly slams his cold lips onto mine, and my body freezes into stone. The cold, rigid feel of his lips infects my mind, where I try to force it out. I force my eyes shut, expelling the thoughts.

I don't want this to be the last thing I feel.

I try to fight -- to raise my arms in protest. But my arms become too weak to lift themselves, like the command from my brain just isn't connecting. The rest of my body responds the same way, seeming completely separate from me.

My eyes watch, but they don't see. My brain knows, but it doesn't process any new information. I'm left with just one feeling.

The aching, starving, crumbling pressure in my chest.

Is Gene still kissing me? Am I lying on the ground, dying? I don't know. Either way, I can't get him out of my head. The ghost of his disgusting kiss, lingering on my cold lips. His freezing, rough hands crushing my throat, squeezing the life out of me.

This is it. It's like falling asleep, losing consciousness, only with much bigger consequences. Not a pleasant way to go, but oddly peaceful. I can't feel the pain in my chest any longer, or the cold biting at my cheeks.

I feel warmth.

"Honey," a familiar voice lingers in my mind. "She's smiling."

Then, I see her.

My beautiful baby girl, looking back at me with a weak little smile.

My baby, yet somehow completely unfamiliar. My husband, someone all too familiar, holds my baby, smiling down at her. In the peaceful atmosphere of our own home, far away from the cold of the outside.