CL Coons

The open­ing chap­ter of the finale to the COLLIDE saga, BOUND.

One.

GOD, I CAN’T.
I can’t move fast enough. I can’t … breathe.
Run, Leah. Run!
My feet are pound­ing against the pave­ment. Each strike is send­ing this light­en­ing bolt of pain through my legs, mak­ing my knees buckle.
Jesus Christ, he’s going to catch me.
I need water, but I can’t stop. The back of my throat is burn­ing, mouth tastes like blood.
“I don’t know where you’re run­ning to, Dar­ling. You know that no mat­ter where you go, I’ll find you,” he called from behind me.
Mark Stevens has been fol­low­ing me, run­ning after me, for what feels like an hour. If I can just keep run­ning, I’ll find some­where safe. Some­where he can’t hurt me, or the baby.
“Go to hell!” I scream.
And it’s almost as if that fuels him. His foot­steps grow louder and before I can take another step, he’s got my throat. My back meets the con­crete and I scream again, this time from the pain. Mark’s cold, ice green eyes cut through me. He’s smil­ing. He sits on my stom­ach. I can feel the pres­sure of the baby on my spine. Mark’s weight is push­ing it … him … into my back.
“You’ll never get away from me,” Mark says. “You belong to me.”
I spit in his face.
Sweat drips from my fore­head into the cor­ners of my eyes, the salt burn­ing them. I move my hands to wipe the sweat away. But, before I can, Mark grabs my arms in a vise-like grip, and holds them above me. I lift my head and scowl at him.
“I left you,” I tell him, “I don’t love you. I don’t want you. Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Chicago?”
He’s smil­ing again, and his biceps twitch. He lets go of my arms, and makes a fist. I know what’s com­ing, and brace myself, as his fist makes con­tact with my face. My head slams back against the con­crete and I see black spots.
“You will return with me, Dar­ling,” he says.
I close my eyes, but I can still see him.
“There’s just one thing we need to take care of,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice that turns my blood to ice. I watch as he reaches back to his pocket and pulls out some­thing. It’s made of metal. He flicks his wrist and I hear the swoosh and a click as a blade appears from his palm.
A scream is trapped in my throat.
“Wh-” I try to say.
“Shhh,” he whis­pered. He sits back from my belly to my thighs, and puts his hand on my stom­ach.
My belly.
My baby.
Hayden’s baby.
Mark’s hum­ming, I don’t know what it is, but it sounds like a lul­laby. I try to talk again.
“What are you -”
“-Tak­ing care of some­thing, so we can start over, my Dar­ling.”
I can feel the cold metal of the blade on the under­side of my belly.
And then, he plunges it in.

Leah Bowen opened her eyes, grabbed her stom­ach, and screamed. God, her heart was pound­ing. Throb­bing in her ears. She blinked and put her hands on her stom­ach. It felt flat.
“Bowen?”
To her left, a light flicked on. Leah blinked tears, as her eyes adjusted to the bright­ness. She saw the bed­side table, the lamp, the dresser, the TV. She was home. Safe. It wasn’t real. Next to her, Hay­den rubbed his eyes.
It was a dream. No, night­mare.
Again.
He looked at her. He looked so tired. And Leah burst into tears.
“I’m so sorry, I -” she sobbed.
Hay­den put his arms around her, and pulled her to his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to stop cry­ing.
“I’m sorry,” she whis­pered.
“You’re okay, you’re safe. Noth­ing is going to hap­pen, I’m here,” he mur­mured, rock­ing her. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.”
Leah pulled back, and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her favorite hoodie. She nod­ded, mov­ing away from him. “I’m sorry.”
And like every night, when the night­mares reigned and ter­ror filled her slum­ber, she grabbed her pil­lows and a blan­ket.
“Don’t do that,” he said, reach­ing for the blan­ket.
“You need to sleep,” she whis­pered, feel­ing the tears well up again.
“Please, just stay. I’m fine.”
Hayden’s tired eyes pleaded with her. She knew he meant what he was say­ing, but she couldn’t stay. She felt jit­tery, and didn’t want to wake him up with another scream. She walked around to his side of the bed, and kissed his fore­head.
“Stay with me,” he whis­pered, look­ing up at her. He took her hand, and she sat next to him. “Let me hold you, it’ll be bet­ter.”
Leah felt another tear roll down her cheek and she gen­tly took Hayden’s hand away from hers. She flicked off the lamp on his bed­side table, dous­ing them in dark­ness.
“Good­night,” she whis­pered. She turned and walked out of the bed­room, and slept on the couch.