Dismissing Dakota | ✓

»37. PEACH«

*A/N: I'm posting chapters 37-38 and the epilogue all tonight. unedited.*

Silvia's P.O.V.

In the comfort and safety of my bedroom-far from the jaws of danger-I had thought how Jared Reynolds would look if I ever had been struck with bad luck, forced to see him again in my life. Jared had changed severely since I last had seen him, sitting in an orange jumpsuit with his ankles and wrists shackled together. He was larger in those times of the court case, barreling around a beer gut that hung over his belt loops like a truck driver. During his time behind bars, he had dropped the weight, shedding the protuberant stomach for a flatter abdomen. The diet change didn't help his grossly hideous face. His teeth, yellowed from tobacco, were crooked and was the only remaining detail of him that hadn't transformed-along with his aquiline nose.

"I have been waiting for the day that would bring

"Losing your freedom didn't do anything for you," I noted, backing in to the door. He was closer to me, huffing his coffee breath across my face, and shutting the door behind me with his hand. "Killing me now won't get you back the years you lost. You can leave. Save yourself the risk of getting arrested again."

He stifled a laugh, grazing the cold metal of the knife in his hand against my hot skin. Amusement played in the endless abyss of his black eyes, sparked with life for once. "Who's to say you won't call the police on me when I get out of here, hmm?"

"I wouldn't."

"Ah, but you could be lying," he said, moving the blade up my arm. Keeping track of where he placed it left me breathless, waiting to see where it would land next and if I could survive the first blow that broke skin. "You've grown a lot. You're no longer the little girl I recall."

There was an underlying sense of disappointment in his voice, making my skin crawl at the longing for a girl who I couldn't recognize if someone showed me a picture of her. I couldn't go back to then with any amount of strength. I blocked it out, acting as though it didn't exist. It was an exhausting game of make believe that I'd been deluding myself with for years.

A hiss escaped my lips, reacting to the contact of the knife poking my stomach. He had the power to push further, rip the fabric of my shirt, and jab me with the sharp edge. He didn't, though. And that was what scared me more, the fact that he knew he could end my life now but didn't because of the level of joy that my anxiety feed into his sick, twisted mind. He would toy with me like this, I figured, until he grew bored and realized it was better off with me dead.

"What do you want? Money?" I asked. "I can give you money."

"I didn't come for your money." He tilted his head, flipping the knife around and pushing the end of it to my chin, jolting my jaw. "I came for you."

"You're going to leave empty handed. My family is coming back any minute."

"No, they aren't. Your family is at the hospital."

My fists unfold from their clenched form, relaxing to my side. "How do you...how do you know that? That's not true."

He chuckled darkly, switching up his hold on the knife and pressing the cool metal against my throat. "You can't lie to me, Silvia. If you keep that up, I won't be nice enough to give you a head start. That might change, though." He inched in closer, inhaling my sent by burying his head in my hair. "I'm a man who can be easily swayed with a bit of begging. Why don't get on your knees and start pleading?" He took one step back, unlatching his belt with his free hand. When I didn't fall to his feet at once, he held on to my chin. "You remember how to beg, right? I know you couldn't have forgotten." He swiped his grimy thumb across my lower lip. "I've missed that mouth on me."