Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  He loves me.

  He told me that he was the only person in the world that did.

  I believe him more and more every day.

  Each passing moment has me reaching for my phone, but of course, it’s been taken from me, along with what was left of my freedom. The instinct remains. I want to talk to him. I want to hear his voice, smell his skin. I want to get out of this hellhole and go back to the city to be with him where I belong.

  I climb back into the bed and wrap the blanket around me to get warm. My skin quickly breaks out in a cold sweat and I find myself begging for another glass of cold water.

  Chapter 2

  I’m A Prisoner

  “Rise and shine!”

  I roll over to find Charlie standing over me, completely dressed and ready to start his day. “What?” I mutter.

  “It’s 6 A.M., Claire,” he says. “Time to start your chores.”

  I sit up. “What?” I repeat.

  He chuckles. “Get dressed, wear something you can move around in. There’s some extra eggs and bacon downstairs. Get something to eat. Meet me at the barn by 6:30, not a minute after. Got me?”

  The words blur together in my mind. I’m so tired, I can barely hear him. He walks out of the room, leaving me behind in my exhausted confusion. I sit up and look out the window. The morning sun sits barely above the horizon.

  I fall back down onto my pillow and close my eyes.

  “Claire!”

  The force of his voice shoots me upright. “What?!” I yelp. I peel my eyes open to see Charlie standing in the doorway.

  “It’s 6:15,” he says. “You’ve officially missed breakfast.” I stare at him, shooting the best daggers I can at him until he chuckles again. “I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your outfit for the day. Put it on.”

  I look at the foot of the bed and spot a pair of over-sized men’s jeans and a red flannel shirt. “I’m not wearing that,” I mutter with an upturned nose.

  “Too bad. Put it on. Tomorrow, wake up on time. Then, you can pick out your own clothes.” He grips the doorknob. “Downstairs. Now.”

  I push the blanket off and stare at him until he closes the door. The jeans are way too big and easily fall off my hips, but I find a belt in the closet that doesn’t make me completely gag. A quick scan of the clothes inside tells me the story of a young girl, most likely around my age. Probably boring, quiet. No real party clothes in sight at first glance. Lots of cardigans and long skirts that sit just below the kneecap.

  I push farther back into the closet and smirk. Just like me, she keeps the good stuff in the back. I find a few shorter skirts, some tube tops, and some nice, fun blouses that look to be about my size. Excellent. I make a mental note to inspect them further before throwing on the disgusting flannel shirt Charlie picked out for me. It’s also far too large, but I tie it off in front to make it fit tighter around me.

  I check out my reflection in the bathroom mirror and cringe at the sight. Dark make-up sits smeared around my eyes, stuck there after a day of not washing it off. I look older, but not in a good way. I lean forward and splash water on my face to wake me up and clear off the remaining old make-up and oil from my skin. My breath tastes sour, my head hurts, and there’s been a ringing in my ears for the last ten minutes that I can’t seem to shake away.

  I brush my teeth and step back into the hallway.

  “Pull your hair back,” Charlie says as I come down the stairs.

  “You get to decide my hair styles, too?”

  He holds up a rubber band and I take it from him. “No,” he says. “But it’s warm outside and I know you’re going to want to eventually.”

  I put my hair up into a loose ponytail. “Now what?” I ask.

  “Follow me.” He pulls open the front door and I follow him outside.

  One minute outside and I’m already begging for a glass of water. It’s just one more reason to make me feel homesick. Chicago isn’t nearly as humid as this place is. I take deep, long breaths as we make our way across the driveway towards the barn.

  “I let you sleep in this morning,” he says. “But tomorrow, you wake up at five with me.”

  I smack a mosquito off my arm. “You wake up at five?”

  “Sometimes four,” he smirks. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it after a week or two.”

  “Yeah, right…” I flinch and slap another mosquito off my neck.

  Charlie grips the barn door and slides it open. “We have three cows here: Doris, Betty, and Gloria. We let ‘em roam the fields during the day, but at night, they’re kept in the barn.”

  “Okay…” I take a step into the barn. The air is thick and muggy. It feels like I’m breathing gelatin and it smells like a damp sewer. “Jeez—” I cough.

  “You’ll get used to that.” Charlie points over my head. “Grab that bucket. Remember exactly where you took it from, because you’ll be expected to put it right back where you found it. Same goes for every piece of my equipment you use.”

  I look up and see the metal bucket hanging on the wall. As I walk over, I notice Tobias’ motorbike parked nearby. I get a better look at the helmet. It’s pitch black with a small, pink sticker on the back. I lean forward to see it’s a little cartoon cat.

  “I’m sure I already know the answer to this one, but have you ever milked a cow?”

  I spin back around with the bucket in hand. “No…” I answer.

  He grins back at me. “Perfect. Bring that over here.”

  I follow behind him, dragging my feet through the muddy hay on the ground as I go. The barn is quite larger than it appears on the outside. My eyes roam about and I take in all the little details like the bright fluorescent lights set up in the ceiling and the hay bales stacked up near the walls. I spot a wooden ladder leading upward and look up to see a loft above my head.

  Three cows sit along the opposite wall, each one in their own section with a food trough and water bin, separated by makeshift wooden fences. I chuckle silently, thinking that these animals have it better than I do. I check out the far corner and see a tall punching bag hanging from the ceiling, obviously old and heavily used.

  “Sit down on that stool there next to Doris,” Charlie says.

  I walk around him and bend over to cross under the wood plank to enter the cow’s section. I hesitate before sitting down on the rickety old stool. The cow pushes in closer to me, nearly knocking me off it. I put a hand against it to push her away, an act I immediately regret. I pull my hand back to find it covered in dirt and grime. “Ugh…” I mutter.

  “Put the bucket down beneath her,” he chuckles.

  “I think I got it…” I spit as I toss it down.

  He leans against the wooden sectional between the cows. “All right then… go on,” he gestures.

  I crack my knuckles, stalling for time, trying to picture all the movies and television shows I’ve seen this in. You just grab the dangling thing and pull, right? Seems simple enough. I reach out and feel the smooth teat in my hand.

  “Get in there—”

  I shoot another glance at him and duck further beneath the cow. “Nothing personal, Betty…” I mutter.

  “That’s Doris.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I start from the top of the teat and pull down. To my surprise, a spurt of milk shoots out into the bucket below.

  “There you go. Good job,” Charlie says.

  “How do I know when to stop?” I ask.

  “She’ll tell ya.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay…” I continue milking her, feeling his hard gaze on me as I go.

  “You’re not allowed to leave the house without supervision. Understand?” Charlie asks. “It’s for your own protection.”

  “Protection?” I scoff.

  “Yes.”

  “Why do I need protection?”

  “We both know why.”

  I glare up at him with annoyance. “So, I’m a prisoner?” I ask, pulling on another teat.

  “No, you’re
my guest — a guest with no privileges. The more work you do, the more privileges you earn.”

  “What exactly is the point of this again?”

  “The point, Claire, is to teach you responsibility. Nothing worth having in this world comes easy. Patience and hard work will earn you more than laziness and entitlement.”

  I look up at him. “Then how many cows do I have to milk to get my phone back?”

  He smirks. “More than I have, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, goody.”

  “It won’t be just milking cows,” he continues. “After this, we gotta lay some more hay down in here, feed the chickens, and tend to the horses.”

  “You have horses?” I ask.

  “Two of ‘em,” he nods. “You do as you’re told and you’ll earn a few rides, if you want.”

  I nod. It’s the first bit of goodness I’ve felt since I got here, but it’s enough to keep me going for now. My eyes fall past him and I look at the motorbike again.

  Charlie follows my gaze and shakes his head. “You won’t be earning any rides on that thing,” he says. “It’s my son’s.”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking back to the cow. “I met him last night.”

  “What were you doing out of bed?” he asks, his voice stern.

  “I heard someone wandering around outside my room,” I say. “I thought I’d check it out…”

  He seems satisfied with the response. “He comes in pretty late sometimes.”

  “Where does he work?” I ask.

  “The factory across town.”

  “What kind of factory is it?”

  “Automobile parts.”

  I scoff. “Of course…” I try to think of a way his response could have been any more boring, but I come up with next to nothing.

  “I don’t want you bothering Tobias, Claire,” he says.

  I look up to find his eyes fixed on me. “Okay…”

  “He’s a good kid. He doesn’t need someone like you being an influence on him.”

  “Jeez, calm down,” I say. “I get it. I’ll stay away from him.”

  Charlie watches me in silence for a few more minutes. “She’s good,” he finally says. “Let’s move on to Betty. Don’t kick the bucket when you stand up.”

  I spend the next several hours following Charlie around his farm, taking instructions from him on all the various chores I’ll have to partake in during my stay here, from spreading chicken feed to cleaning out the horse stables. I hate every moment of it, but there’s not much I can do about it. I’d do anything to be sitting in a coffee shop, or going to the mall, or sneaking out to a party with Rick.

  Just one month of this torture and I’ll be back to that life.

  I will admit that this place is quite beautiful — for a farm, anyway. Last night, it was dark and almost scary, but now, with the bright sun and the colorful flora painting everything green, I kind of like it. I can’t stand the fucking mosquitos though, and don’t get me started on the humidity.

  “That’s it for today,” Charlie says after I meet the horses.

  I reach out and brush my fingers along the neck of a tall black horse named Orion. He’s easily my favorite. The other one, brown and spotted white, is named Leo and wanted nothing to do with me when I tried to touch him. Orion, on the other hand, hasn’t shied away from my touch once. “I’m done?” I ask.

  “For today…” he repeats. “Should be about noon now. Good time to get some lunch.”

  I nod. “Can I take a shower first?” I ask in desperation.

  “Go for it,” he says. “Then I can take you into town and show you around.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  I take off for the house, eager to get out of the mosquito feeding grounds. My entire body feels gross, like I’m covered in a thick layer of toxic sweat and fecal matter. I’ve never felt so worn out in all of my life and I can’t imagine for a second why anyone would choose this life. Maybe I’m just a city kid, but why someone would embrace this over a life of ease and convenience is beyond me.

  I reach the second floor bathroom and push the door open.

  “Oh!” I yelp in surprise.

  Tobias looks back at me as my eyes glide down his bare body. He’s fit and firm, with muscles poking out of his skin at every angle, along with a slew of tattoos covering his body and arms. A towel sits limply around his waist, barely hanging on. He quickly grips it tight to keep it from tumbling down.

  My eyes fall to the bruises.

  They cover his abdomen with a thick, purple color, traveling from his pecks down to his belly button, spaced out like random paint splatter. His ribs seem to have taken the brunt of it with fresh, red marks staining his white skin.

  “Oh, shit!” I cry out and slap my hand over my eyes. “Sorry — Fuck. I’m sorry.” My fingers slip from the doorknob. I reach out to find it again, but I miss it repeatedly. I peek out from behind my hand to find it, but I instantly look at his toned and crushed body again. “Sorry—” I say again as I grab the door handle and pull the bathroom door closed.

  I jump back and rush down the hall to my room.

  Chapter 3

  Factory Equipment

  The nearest bit of civilization is fifteen miles away in a small town just outside of Rolla. I didn’t catch the name of it, nor do I really care to.

  Charlie drives me around the tiny town, pointing out landmarks and shops and whatever else can be qualified as “local flavor.” It’s a struggle to keep my eyes from rolling out of their sockets. We turn onto Main Street. Much like I recall from old sitcom towns, this is called Main Street for a reason. Every important business is here, from the local grocery store, to the post office, to the sheriff’s office. It’s almost cute.

  Charlie parks the truck in front of the grocery store and we both climb out of it. “I’ve got a few things to pick up while we’re here,” he says. “Stay close to me.”

  I follow him into the store and stay quiet as we drift through the aisles. Charlie grabs random things off the shelf, like condiments and coffee beans, while I try to stifle my yawns and avoid the prying eyes of the other weirdos that live in this town.

  A young woman stands behind the checkout counter with a perky smile glued to her red-painted lips. She looks up at us as we approach and her bright blue eyes immediately fall on me. “Hey, Mr. Eastwood,” she greets Charlie. Her tight, blonde ponytail swishes back and forth behind her head as she speaks.

  “Hello, Amy,” Charlie replies as he reaches behind his back to pull out his wallet.

  She looks at me again. “Who’s this?” she asks. She grabs a ketchup bottle off the belt and quickly scans it before dropping it into a paper sack.

  “She’s my brother’s girl,” he mutters. “Just in town visiting for a little while.”

  Amy blinks in surprise. “I didn’t know you had a niece.” She extends her perfectly manicured hand out to me. “I’m Amy Jones.”

  I reluctantly take her hand and she jerks it up and down in a surprisingly firm shake. “Claire Holloway,” I say.

  “So you’re Tobias’ cousin…” she says, chewing on her lip. “I didn’t know he had one other than Rick.”

  I twitch at the mention of his name. “You know Rick?”

  “Oh, I know everybody,” she gloats, “and everything about them… mostly.” Charlie clears his throat and Amy turns her attentions back to the groceries. “Anyway, how long are you staying?” she asks me as she grabs the next item off the belt. She moves quickly with expert precision, barely even glancing at the items as she packs them away into bags. “You’re from Chicago, right? I remember Rick being from there. I would love to nibble your ear off about that place over lunch—”

  “Maybe some other time, Amy,” Charlie interrupts.

  She presses her lips together, taking the hint. “Okay,” she squeaks. “That’ll be nineteen-fifty.”

  He hands her a twenty dollar bill and she pops open her drawer. “Keep the chan
ge,” he tells her.

  “Thanks, Mr. Eastwood,” she smiles. “Have a nice day!”

  We step outside and wander back to the truck with the groceries. “So, I’m not allowed to make friends either?” I ask Charlie.

  “You’re not here to make friends,” he says as he steps up into the truck.

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, then…”

  ***

  I can’t sleep.

  I’ve been up since 6 A.M. Charlie sent me to bed at nine, well over three hours ago. I should be more exhausted after an entire day of work and no play, but I can’t seem to catch any sleep.

  I grab a pair of shorts and a cute shirt from the closet and step out into the hallway with a random book from the shelf in the corner. After last night, I started thinking about the stairs. Tobias climbed them without making any noise and he was at my door before I even knew he was there. There must be spots on the stairs that don’t make noises when walked on and if I’m going to be here for the next few weeks without losing my mind, then I’m going to have to figure them out.

  I grip the railing and slowly move my foot along the first wooden stair, putting soft pressure on them until I find that perfect angle. It takes me nearly twenty minutes to patiently memorize a decent pattern to make it down to the first floor undetected.

  The barn door squeaks as I open it, but I’m hoping the distance between it and the house is far enough that the noise doesn’t travel to Charlie’s sleeping ears. I move about in the darkness until I find the ladder I noticed earlier. Splinters of old wood scratch at my hands as I climb, but I easily make it to the top without drawing blood.

  I’m obviously not the first person to escape up here. A few small hay bales lie next to an open window in the wall, creating the perfect hideout to lounge in and hopefully relax my active mind. I look to the stars, take a deep breath of fresh air, and smile. You can’t get this view anywhere in Chicago, that’s for sure.

  I lie back and open the book. It’s one of those cheesy teenage romances that’s already been adapted into a cheesy summer movie that no one watched. Not my preferred genre of entertainment, but the idea is to bore myself to sleep. My eyes scan the title page and I see the initials M.E. scratched into the corner with a blue pen.