Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (29 page)

“I did that,” she said as though she could hardly believe it.  “I bit you.”

Brandon looked unsure of what to do or say.  The woman had completely disregarded his order to sit down, but at the moment she wasn’t presenting any real danger.  She was even somewhat coherent.  I could completely understand his reluctance to do anything that would upset the precarious situation.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” he told her gently.  “My arm will be fine.”

She held out her own arm and looked down at it.  “I’m going to have a bruise,” she told him as though that somehow trumped the bite marks she had left in his arm following her crazed attack on him.  “You hurt me.”

“I’m sorry,” Brandon told her sincerely.  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.  I was only trying to get you to stop biting me.” 

It was clear the bizarre situation was getting to him.  He wasn’t the type of guy who would ever intentionally hurt a woman.  I could see how guilty he felt about bruising his captor – even though she had been on the verge of a murderous rampage at the time.

“You hurt me,” she said again as though his words had fallen on deaf ears.  This time she said it with more urgency, her voice shriller and more indignant.  The situation was escalating again. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you.  I didn’t mean to.  Can you please sit down?” Brandon asked again, practically pleading with her now.  I knew he was desperately trying to avoid a confrontation.  But the woman wasn’t making it easy.

Once again ignoring Brandon’s request, she reached out to stroke his face.

He flinched and pulled away.

Her mood darkened.

“You hurt me,” she repeated herself, beginning to sound like a broken record.  “I was trying to make sure we would be together and you hurt me.  You could have let me make sure we would be together, but instead you hurt me.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do...” Brandon protested feebly.

Ignoring him, the woman continued to stare at her arm.  “You chose her over me and now my arm is going to get a bruise,” she said, as though a cold, hard truth had hit her.  “You don’t love me.  You’ve never loved me, have you?  You used me.”

Brandon looked at her warily, unsure of where her tirade was headed.

“You’ve left me no choice,” the woman said leadenly.  “You know that, don’t you?”

“Look, just sit down,” Brandon said again, sounding as exhausted as he looked. 

“No.  Answer me,” she insisted, her voice becoming louder and more abrasive.  “We’re never going to be together, are we?  I would do anything for you, Brandon.  I would kill for you!  But you don’t want me.  All those messages in your songs were
lies
, weren’t they?!”

Brandon wisely chose to keep his mouth shut.  There was no use in provoking the woman.

But his silence wasn’t enough to keep her calm.  Nothing was.

“She did this!” the woman screamed accusingly, whirling around to face me.  “If it wasn’t for you Brandon and I would be together!” she wailed, pointing a finger at me.  “You’ve got him under your spell you witch!  Die!  Die!” 

“That’s enough!” Brandon shouted, finally reaching his breaking point.  He grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her back, ensuring she couldn’t get at me.  “You are going to sit down in that chair
right now
,” he informed her authoritatively, trying desperately to take charge of the volatile situation.

“Or else what?” she challenged him defiantly.  “Are you going to shoot me?”

He hesitated.

“Shoot me,” she urged him.  “Go on.  Do it.  If I can’t be with you I don’t want to live.  Kill me!”

Well that was an unexpected turn of events.  Brandon looked over at me as though unsure of how to handle the situation.  Obviously he wasn’t about to kill the woman – but how on earth was he supposed to respond to her crazy demands? 

I was every bit as clueless as he was, so I simply gave him a small half-shrug and cursed myself yet again for throwing my phone away.  We needed help.  We needed professionals who knew how to talk this woman down from the metaphoric ledge she was standing on. 

But we were on our own, frighteningly unequipped to deal with the mess in front of us.

The woman took advantage of Brandon’s momentary distraction.  As he was looking over at me, she reached into the back of her jeans and pulled out a big, very sharp looking knife.  “If you won’t do it I’ll do it myself,” she vowed.  “But I’m taking you with me.  If we can’t be together in this world, we’ll be together in the afterlife.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine.

Feeling completely helpless – and a bit like an outsider looking in – I watched in horror as Brandon pointed the gun at her.  Was this really happening?  It felt like a bad dream.  It was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

“Put the knife down or I’ll shoot,” Brandon cautioned.

“Shoot!” she crowed, sounding completely delusional.  “Shoot!”

Of course, Brandon didn’t.  How could he?  He didn’t have a violent bone in his body...except perhaps where Carl was concerned.  There was no way he was going to hurt some poor deranged woman who was fixated on him.

“You’re not going to do it, are you?” she asked, sounding very disappointed.  Then she raised the knife to her neck.  “Okay fine, I’ll do it myself.  Promise me you’ll shoot yourself so we can be together on the other side, okay?”

She was about to slit her own throat.  I knew it and Brandon knew it. 

He jumped into action.  “Drop the knife
right now
or I’ll shoot!” he hollered.

She ignored him.

I watched in horror as he aimed the gun at her foot.  I knew he was trying to save the woman’s life, and if that meant having to wound her in the process, so be it.  But I also knew how hard it must be to be in that awful position.  Brandon hesitated, but only momentarily.

Then, wincing, he pulled the trigger.

I waited for the explosion.  I waited for the silence to be pierced by the awful sound of the bullet discharging.  And I waited to hear the screams of shock and pain that would inevitably follow it.  But none of that happened.

Staring at the gun in confusion, I tried to make sense of what had happened.

Then it hit me.

The gun wasn’t loaded.  It never had been.

And as Brandon stared at the gun in shock, the woman took the opportunity to run behind him and jump on his back.  Then she held the knife to his neck.  “You weren’t going to do it, were you?” she hissed in his ear.  “You weren’t going to shoot yourself.  You’ve left me no choice, Brandon.  I have to kill you.”

Oh God.  This wasn’t happening.

Except it was...it
was
happening.  And I had to do something. 

Lucky for me, I had been all but forgotten. 

The woman was completely, utterly fixated on Brandon.  She began to chant the lyrics to one of his songs as he stood there frozen, fully aware that if he moved so much as an inch the knife’s blade would cut his throat.  It was an awful, bone chilling scene.

There was something haunting about what she was doing, as though conducting a ceremony before taking Brandon’s life.  It was clear she completely believed her delusions and she was intent on following through with her threat.  She intended to kill Brandon, and then herself.

And I was the only one in a position to do something about it.

Creeping around behind her and Brandon, every step I took was deliberate.  The chanting woman paid no attention to me.  It was as though in her deranged world, I no longer existed.  It was only her and Brandon...thank goodness for that.  It meant I had an opportunity.

I only had one shot at saving Brandon’s life.  I had to disarm her swiftly, before she had an opportunity to react.  One wrong move could cause Brandon’s throat to be slit.  And if she managed to cut him just right, I knew it could be fatal...he could bleed out right there on the floor in front of me before paramedics even arrived on scene. 

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves.  Then I sprang into action.

I charged at the woman, angling myself so that the impact of our bodies colliding would throw her forward.  Hopefully that would prevent the knife from breaking Brandon’s skin, propelling it away from him instead. 

It was still a risky move, of course, but I didn’t know what else I could possibly do.  There weren’t exactly a whole lot of options available.  So I prayed, and then I charged.

When my body slammed into the woman, it was with such impact that I literally heard the air being forced out of her lungs.  I heard the knife clatter to the floor and prayed that it hadn’t cut Brandon before flying free – but I wasn’t exactly in a position to check on his well being. 

I landed on the woman hard.  She hadn’t even seen me coming, so she’d had no time to brace herself or react in any way.  She grunted as the weight of my body came down on her, pinning her to the ground.  Then she laid there motionless, staring up at the rafters with unseeing eyes.

She wasn’t dead, obviously.  She’d simply had the wind knocked out of her.

But I wasn’t about to take any chances.  In spite of what she had done – and the irrevocable damage she had nearly caused – I knew she wasn’t evil at her core.  She was sick.  I had no desire to needlessly hurt her.

Repositioning myself, I sat on top of the woman, effectively rendering her immobile.  It was something I wouldn’t have been able to do with my old body.  Back when I was thin and weak, there was no way I’d have been capable of disarming another person with nothing but my own body weight.  Thank goodness I had put my eating disorder behind me!

Once I was confident that I was in full control of the situation, I turned my head so I could check on Brandon.  Time stood still as I did so.  As I looked over at the man I loved, I was deathly afraid of what I might find.

My eyes locked with Brandon’s.

He was very much alive, although he looked shell shocked.  Relief flooded through me.

When we made eye contact, it seemed to jolt him into action.  He must have been knocked to the ground when I had lunged at our attacker, but he picked himself up and was by my side in a flash.  We were both completely shaken but, for the most part, unhurt.

“Are you okay?” he asked me quietly.

I nodded.

The woman beneath me let out a whimper as she tried to catch her breath. 

I guiltily realized I may have been overzealous in my attempt to subdue her, so I got up.  Then I quickly grabbed the knife to make sure she couldn’t get it.  She had proven she was capable of pretty much anything, and I wasn’t about to take any more chances.

She wheezed. 

At first I thought she was still trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of her.  But then after a moment I realized she was sobbing.  In fact, she was beginning to cry hysterically, her shoulders heaving and her entire body convulsing as she laid there on the floor making no move to get up.  It was a pitiful, heartbreaking sight.

Brandon sat down beside her.

Then he gathered her into his arms and held her as she cried.

“Her bag is over there,” he told me quietly, jerking his head back toward the area where the woman had been sitting when I had first come in.  “My phone is in it.  Tell the police we’re in Studio B,” he added, knowing that I was unfamiliar with the building. 

Then he continued to comfort the distraught young woman as I called for help.

The police assured me they would be there immediately, but it felt like a million years passed between my call and their arrival.  Time slowed down.  Actually, it felt like it had come to a grinding halt.

I looked on silently as Brandon comforted the mentally ill woman who had almost taken both our lives.  There was no malice, no grudge and no hatred in his actions.  I only saw compassion in him as he stroked her hair and assured her that help was on its way.

The kindness Brandon was showing to a very vulnerable and confused individual was touching.  In fact, I had never been as proud of him as I was in that moment.

When help finally arrived, Brandon assisted the paramedics and police officers.  He kept his abductor calm while she was loaded onto a stretcher.  He spoke to her in a low, soothing voice as she whimpered.  I saw one of the paramedics administer something to her – likely a sedative.  Then she was taken away.

Immediately, Brandon rushed to my side.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

I nodded.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked again, anxious as he embraced me.

“Yes,” I assured him, pressing my head against his chest.  “But you aren’t.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“She
bit
you,” I reminded him, looking down at the dried blood on his forearm.  “Go get the wound checked out before the last of the paramedics leave.”

“Alright,” he relented.  But he still seemed reluctant to leave my side.  “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this,” he told me as though the whole ordeal had been his fault.  “I let my guard down.  I shouldn’t have.”

“You didn’t cause it to happen,” I told him gently.  “You were blindsided by a psychopath.”

“It’s not her fault either,” he pointed out, looking sad.  “She’s sick.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, feeling a bit bad for calling her a psychopath.  “I shouldn’t have said that.  But I don’t know how you can be so forgiving after what she did to you...the way she terrorized you.  This wasn’t even your first run in with her.”

“It’s not her I’m upset with,” he explained.  “It’s the system.  This never should have happened.  She should have gotten the help she needed after the first incident.  Obviously something went wrong,” he said bitterly.  “The system failed her.”

“It could have been so much worse.”

He nodded.  “I don’t know what I would have done if...”

“Shh,” I hushed him, not even wanting to go there.  “Nothing happened.  We were lucky.”

“It wasn’t luck,” he informed me.  He was staring at me with admiration.  “You saved my life.  I thought I was for sure going to get my throat slit and you saved me.  That was so badass, Hayley.  You’re amazing.”

In spite of everything that had transpired, I grinned.  “It was kind of badass, wasn’t it?  But you saved me too.  She was pointing the gun at me and you grabbed her legs.  You took on a woman with a gun for me!  You’re pretty badass yourself, mister.”

“The gun wasn’t even loaded.”

“True,” I admitted.  “But you didn’t know that at the time.  You risked everything for me.”

He shrugged.  “Of course I did.  Without you, everything is meaningless.”

“We need to take your statements,” a police officer told us, interrupting the moment.  “Sir, can you come with me please?  I’ll get a paramedic to take a look at your arm before we start.  Ma’am, my partner will be along in a moment to speak with you.  Just wait here for now.”

As I watched the cop lead Brandon over to a paramedic, the seriousness of what had happened finally hit me.  I suddenly felt shaky and had to sit down.  Maybe my shock was finally beginning to wear off. 

With tears welling up in my eyes, I realized how close Brandon and I had come to being seriously injured or worse.  What a close call it had been!  We were so very lucky things hadn’t ended in tragedy.  Or maybe it had been more than luck. 

Either way, there weren’t words to express how grateful I was.