Stay

by Mulholland, S.

  Stay

  By S. Mulholland

  Published by S. Mulholland

  Copyright 2013 S. Mulholland

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing Services provided by Jennifer Nunez

  Cover Art by Stephanie at Once Upon a Time Covers

  Dedication

  To my husband, for saving me.

  And to all those that have had a Jason Roberts in their lives—we never forget them do we?

  Prologue

  I get off the bus with butterflies in my stomach because I know what’s about to come.

  It’s the same thing every day.

  I grab onto the straps of my backpack until my knuckles turn white to try and stop myself from getting angry at what’s about to go down in this hell hole I’m supposed to call my home.

  I turn up Disturbed’s ‘Down with the Sickness’ on my iPod to prepare myself for battle. The song’s really not my everyday cup of tea—but I have found that it gives me the boost necessary to deal with what I’m about to endure.

  I take a deep breath before looking up at the building that’s supposed to be my “home”.

  I don’t look at it for long. I’m just prolonging the inevitable.

  “Here we go…” I mutter before opening the front door to the building.

  I get up the stairs to our apartment and hesitate for a second before I open the door with trembling hands. FUCK! Never let her break you, Alex!

  I enter the foyer and look around but it doesn’t seem like she’s home.

  A big sigh of relief escapes my lips as I set my backpack down on the round wooden table.

  I start to take my coat off when I feel my hair being pulled back violently. Shit! So much for relief. Here we go!

  My earphones fall out but I can still hear the music blasting through the speakers that are now on the floor.

  “Why are you fucking late, Alexandra?” My mother growls in my ear as my head is tilted back.

  I hate it when she calls me by my full first name. She always says it with so much venom that it makes me despise my own name. That’s why now, I introduce myself to everyone as Alex.

  Elizabeth doesn’t seem to get it, though. One day, I swear I’ll be out of this shitty place.

  I don’t wince at the pain from having my hair pulled back because I know that will just egg her on more.

  “The bus took a different route today,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Are you fucking giving me lip, Alexandra? I sure hope not, because you know what happens when you give me lip.”

  “No, Mother, I’m not. Just stating the facts.”

  “Shut your fucking lazy ass up. I work too damn hard and too damn much to get any fucking lip from you, you understand?” She yells as she starts dragging me past the living room and into my bedroom.

  I push away from her death grip and stand up tall close to her face.

  “I understand, Mother, you’re the only one allowed to give anyone lip,” I spit out.

  Those words leave my mouth, only because I always have to act brave otherwise the beatings are worse if I don’t fight back. But my body always shakes uncontrollably as I do.

  “What did you say, Bitch?” She yells angrily into my face.

  I stare directly at her with no amount of emotion on my face as I decide not to answer that question because I know she heard me.

  I stand there waiting for it to begin or end, I don’t know at this point because my heart is about to pop out of my chest as it always does whenever she wants to fight me for no reason.

  “So you’re not going to answer me, huh?” She asks with a menacing smirk on her face.

  I just continue to stare her down with the balls she thinks I have in order to be able to stand up to her.

  The reality of it is, I don’t want to do this every single day because I have to mentally check out and become someone else to deal with the life I’ve been dealt this far. That person that I have to become is a lot like the person I have vowed never to become—my mother.

  She makes a move for my hair again but I step back which makes her even angrier, so she launches herself at me to hold me down on my bed until she has my hair in her grasp—again. Shit!

  She drags me towards the end of the bed as I try to make a grab for her hands but it’s impossible.

  My mother is a petite brown haired woman but she works for a meat packing company that allows her to be strong as all hell…literally.

  I try to walk with my head tilted back to take some of the pain away when she yells, “Get on your fucking knees, Alexandra. Now!”

  I do as she says because I know where this is going to go regardless of me fighting back or not.

  Still holding my hair she comes around to face me. “Exactly, Alexandra, don’t forget who runs this bitch. I do. Not you. I make the money, I make the living. You are only here to cook, clean, and do all that other shit I don’t want to do. Don’t you ever forget that. The only reason why I have you is because your asshole of a father has decided he has better things to do than to raise a stupid dumbass like you. Just my luck, right?” She seethes.

  I don’t respond because I know what she says is true.

  My father has never wanted me, not that my mother ever has either, but at least she had the decency to pretend like she did to keep up pretenses with her friends and family. Just my luck, I guess.

  She makes a move for her belt and starts undoing it.

  I try to shake my head but she holds it still.

  “Don’t fucking move or this is going to be worse, Alexandra. I’m going to show you who runs shit, and it certainly is not you.”

  I look at her and start to get mad as hell at the way she treats me for no apparent reason. “Okay, Elizabeth, show me what you got,” I challenge.

  Her eyes get wide with shock and maybe a little admiration.

  That doesn’t stop me from continuing, “It’s the same every day. You think I don’t know how it goes? For some reason you have to prove that you’re the one with power right now…and I say right now, ELIZABETH because soon enough I’ll be gone and you’ll be here all ALONE with no one to use as your punching bag and for that I pity you. You may have me now, but not for long and then what? What are you going to do with all that anger you have inside your black heart, huh!?”

  That little glimpse of admiration that flashed through her eyes is no longer there when the first blow from the belt hits me right on my back.

  “Fuck you. You worthless piece of shit! I’ll be glad when you’re gone. I won’t have to look at your fucking stupid ass face that reminds me of your shitfuck of a father every day. Good riddance, if you ask me,” she yells, letting go of my hair.

  I try to stand up to block the blows but she continues to fling that belt directly on my back and that buckle keeps hitting every bone in my spine instead of my skin.

  I try not to wince at the pain emanating from each blow by reminding myself that I’m used to this and it shouldn’t be a shock to my body anymore.

  She keeps going
until she finally pisses me off to the limit when she continues putting me down, “You’ll be here forever, anyway, you’re a piece of shit that won’t get into college. You’ll be here for me to use as a fucking punching bag whenever the fuck I want, Bitch! Remember that!”

  Through the pain, I look up at her between blows and grab the hand that’s holding the belt to make her stop.

  She glares at me as I stand up ignoring the welts already forming on my back.

  I grip her wrist as hard as I can while I seethe, “NO, ELIZABETH! That’s where you’re wrong, I’m not a piece of shit and I have gotten into college. So you see, Mother, I’m out, very, very soon. I’m about to be a senior and at most all the time I have left with you is a year. Go ahead and do whatever you want to me now because you’ll never have me again. You can try to break me like you always have, but that’s not going to happen because Mother, I AM better than you will ever be and I don’t belong in this hellhole with you. You can rot here all on your own,” I finish with a smile.

  She pushes me back with her free hand and swings at me catching the right side of my face.

  I mistakenly let go of her wrist to rub my face.

  She takes this opportunity to hit me again with the belt and this time the buckle gets me right in the rib cage so I fall to my knees, holding onto my side.

  She punches me in the face and I finally hit the ground.

  I turn to look at her smiling back at me as if to say “I always win” and she does, but not for long.

  Her face turns to stone as I smile back at her.

  She starts kicking me repeatedly, so I hunch over to cover my stomach but my efforts are pointless.

  I lay there taking every kick she has to offer.

  As I start to black out I tell myself that I will never be a victim. I will always fight back.

  I deserve better than this. I deserve to be happy.

  One day, I know I’ll know what it’s like to love and be loved.

  I try to smile again as I think about getting out of here and finally being able to know what happy is before finally succumbing to obscurity.

  Chapter One

  October

  “Tuesday Booze-Day!” Magda, my roommate shouts while busting through our dorm room door.

  I look up from my textbook. “Really Magda? Tuesday Booze-Day? It seems like you make up a weird saying just to be able to drink every night,” I laugh at her as I set the book down in front of me.

  “Come on, Alex, you know you love them and you need an excuse just as much as I do. So quit your bitchin’. There’s a party tonight at 217 and we are going!” She squeals and goes over to her computer.

  Trick Daddy’s ‘Let’s Go’ quickly fills the room.

  217 is the number of the most popular house to be at during the week at our small town college. Magda and I have been going there almost every night since we became roommates this year.

  I always like going because it gives me a chance to forget how much I hate being in school and how much of a love life I don’t have.

  It’s always a giant bore though, after we get to the parties and I find out there’s no hot guys there. Ugh! What’s the point of going if I can’t have any eye candy?

  Hopefully, tonight will be different.

  “I suppose, since you twisted my arm,” I say sounding less than enthusiastic about heading out.

  She rolls her eyes and sits down next to me on the bed. “K, Bitch…let’s start getting ready then!” She says patting my leg, ignoring my sarcasm.

  I look at her confused. “Dude, it’s like 5:15pm. What the fuck do we need to get ready so early for?”

  She scrunches her nose. “Well, first of all, you look horrendous. Second, we need all the time we can get to get you to stop looking so fucking homeless when we go out. You’re kind of a cockblocker.”

  Shocked at her bluntness, I say, “What!? I do not look homeless and I resent the comment about me being a cockblocker. If you must know, I was studying for Anthropology and last I checked that class is less than sexy, which makes me just as appealing at the moment.”

  She sighs. “Listen, I don’t give a fuck what you were doing. We are going to get ready for this party and you are going to make yourself look presentable in order for me to be seen with you. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want you cockblocking me the whole night, like you always do.”

  I gasp. “Watch your mouth! What the hell is the matter with you? I most certainly am not a fucking cockblocker,” I state adamantly.

  I shrug because there is nothing left to say about your best friend thinking you’re being a cockblocker. I hate that word. It should never be used, if you ask me. It doesn’t roll off the tongue too good. Well that sounds sexual. Moving on.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Since when do you put up a fight about getting ready and going out to party? OMG Dude, are you dying? You’re dying aren’t you? OMG what is it, Lou Gehrig’s Disease?” She asks staring at me weird with her eyes all shiny and shit.

  My eyes go wide at her over dramatization of the situation. “Wha-NO! I’m not dying. Jesus Christ, Magda, relax for a minute. Lou Gehrig’s? Really?”

  She looks at me puzzled. “Well yeah, I mean it’s possible…but if you’re not dying then what’s the problem?”

  I sit back in my tiny twin bed. That reminds me…I hate this small ass bed. Ugh! “I don’t know I’m just getting a little tired of going to these parties and not having fun… and by no fun I mean not seeing anyone there worth looking at,” I say leaning my head back against the white wall behind me.

  “Well if that’s the only problem, tonight should different because the guys from Alpha Xi Delta are going to be there and I just heard they got a couple of new pledges. I’m hoping they’re ones I don’t know. Point is, you never know. Tonight you might see somebody worth looking at.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

  I sit back up. “Really? I hope so. I don’t think I can take looking at all the same fucktards every time we go out…” I sigh.

  What’s college for if not to have a little something to look at and take your mind off of other things, every now and again.

  Nothing wrong with that.

  “What are we waiting for then? Let’s get ready,” she repeats.

  I get up from the bed and get my bathroom toiletries to go in the shower.

  Our dorm room is pretty small which makes it difficult to have any privacy, not that Magda would allow me to have any, anyway.

  She is way more outgoing and outspoken than I am. It’s a mystery as to why we get along so well. I guess the one thing we have in common is that we both swear like sailors, so that’s fun.

  She tends to rub people the wrong way with her honesty sometimes but I find it endearing and refreshing.

  When we first met we sat next to each other at our freshman orientation and then we found out we were roommates. We have been friends ever since.

  She’s originally from Germany but her parents sent her off to the states to get a better education and she ended up at St. Norbert College in De Pere, Wisconsin, with me. Yay.

  She’s also way better looking than me with her blonde hair and big green eyes. She is shorter than me by a couple of inches but that doesn’t take away from how anything she wears makes her look model-sized. She’s beautiful and she knows it which makes her pretty popular with the guys.

  I’m just as confident as she is, though. I may not have her blonde locks but I have curly brown hair with matching eyes and now that I think about it, matching skin.

  I guess we are complete opposites which is probably why we can tolerate each other.

  “What should I wear?” Magda asks when I get back in the room from the shower that’s located directly across from our door, making it pretty convenient.

  I look at her and then at the outfits laid out on top of MY bed.

  “I don’t know. Depends. Do you want to look like a hooker tonight? Like a classy escort? Or like a stripper?” I ask pointing to each
outfit.

  She sighs, “Well, I guess classy escort will have to do for tonight.”

  I smile playfully. “Great! Now get your shit off my bed.”

  I move to stand in front of the smallest closet in the world. God, you can only fit like five outfits in this thing without anything getting wrinkled. Needless to say, I do a lot of ironing in the mornings.

  Taking all her stuff off of my bed she asks, “What are you wearing tonight?”

  I turn towards her. “I don’t know, I think I’m gonna go ahead and dress the opposite of you tonight, which means I have to not look like an escort.” I laugh and then wink for added effect.

  She winks in return and turns on her heel, outfit in hand, to change in the bathroom.

  I never understand why it is ok for her to have privacy but not for me.

  I shake my head at her unfairness.

  After about two and half hours of primping, curling, and applying makeup, we are finally ready to head out. Well at least, I am ready.

  Magda is still trying to make sure she looks better than an escort, her words not mine.

  She did state that I no longer looked homeless, which is a plus for me since I am hoping to have some fun tonight and let’s be honest, the homeless status is not going to get any eye candy to give me some attention.

  Not that I’m looking to get laid. I’m not. Really I’m not. I have never gotten laid. Not yet at least—hard to believe right? Well, living with my mother for eighteen years of my life and getting the shit beat out of me didn’t really give me a chance to go out and explore, if you catch my drift.

  Not that Magda knows anything about that. I don’t need her making fun of me for being a virgin and I don’t need her pity because of what Elizabeth put me through.

  “Bitch, you look better than Jenna Jameson naked, so let’s get a move on,” I say as I look at my appearance in the only body length mirror in the middle of our door.

  Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I have on a small Hollister checkered button up with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of faded Lucky brand jeans with holes everywhere. Why I pay over one hundred dollars for jeans that are ripped is beyond me. They look hot though. They are low rise so I’m showing a little bit of my “toned” stomach. I wish, but I work with what I got.