The Arrest -6-

The quiet place consumed her for the last time. Somewhere between heaven and hell, the world became silent. Lack of oxygen to the brain can kill you in 4 minutes. Dominic held her neck tight for 3. Just enough time to allow his sickness to take over and her body to resemble those from the morgue. Cold, stiff, and dead. Well, sorta in Gypsy’s case. He wasn’t ready for the game of cat and mouse to be over. Not yet at least. His goal was that one day, someday, he would be the one to send the blonde to the hell she deserved.

Perched on her chest, ashes falling from the cigar between his teeth, Dominic watched as the color came back to her cheeks. God, she was beautiful. If it was another world, she would have been the one he chose, but there was no way he could have a whore on his arm. His fingers moving over her heck, the outlines of his hand would leave a bruise she could never hide. Good, that was his goal. Show the world that when you fuck over Dominic Paloma you will always pay for your crime.

Soft breaths causing pain with every inhalation, Gypsy watched the horror unfold. His hands on her body, each strike on her flesh another reminder of life’s painful choices. Inside of her mind she screamed for mercy with every thrust, but her mouth refused to open. Was she a mute? Or could it be he covered her mouth with tape? It had to be tape. The few times she felt his fingers on her nose, she tried her mouth to breath, but nothing. No exchange of air, just nothing. Why didn’t he just kill her and get it over with. Each time he would take her to the brink of hypoxia and bring her back from the edge of death. It was the silence that scared her the most. The time he allowed her to think in the dark that she prayed for death. Yes, she was ready. She wanted to die because living like this was no longer acceptable.


Screaming as the tape came off, her lips parted with such a fury that the screams started a fit of coughing. Her lungs already sore from the lack of oxygen that coughing caused a blinding pain deep inside of her chest. “Please…help….me,” begged Gypsy. She was having a full-blown panic attack, and there was nothing she could do but beg for her life. No, this was not who she was. Mary Elizabeth Kennedy was done begging anything for her life. It started with her father, then Frank, and now Dominic? No, she would never again beg anyone to save her from what the Devil already planned.

“Fuck you, Dominic. You aren’t even man enough to fucking kill me properly. You pussy ass bitch, everyone is going to laugh at you for your lack of manhood,” Gypsy screamed. Her words spilled out, but the meaning behind them was laced with false hope for freedom. She knew Dominic would never give her what she wanted, and he was too stupid to understand it was all a ploy.


Her head flung to the left as his fist once again contacted the side of her face. She lost count of the number of times he hit her, but it had to be a lot with the amount of blood rushing down her throat. She would never again want to taste that copper fluid, in fact, the smell alone would repulse her. “Shut the fuck up bitch,” Dominic growled with the last punch he threw. The one that silenced the young blonde. This was not over, but for now, he was done with her.

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