by K. A. Hunter
I knew a lot of her backstory, but not as much as I’d led her to believe. She’d been through hell and back, which made me crazy with fury, but the one thing I couldn’t understand was why she chose to continue living like that. Did she really think there weren’t other options? Or was she a prisoner of her own misery?
Even though she’d only spent a handful of days in jail, she acted like a freshly released inmate looking for trouble just so they could get back to the safety of the institution they were familiar with. Even if the place was a filthy motel.
No. She’s got too much fire in her eyes, and I didn’t believe for a second that she was weak. That girl was a fighter. She just needed an opportunity to prove it. She also needed some damn lessons on how to defend herself. Any motherfucker could take her down, and she wouldn’t be able to fight him off. Fuck. That. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if I wasn’t supposed to get involved. Starting tomorrow, she was going to learn how to protect herself when I wasn’t around.
I came to a red light and tapped my balled up fist on my steering wheel thinking about all the prick moves I’d done to Jules and Holden but rationalized that they were necessary. I’d rather them think I was being an asshole than for her to get too comfortable and let her guard down. She needed to be on edge. To keep her eyes open to any possible danger.
Taking off at the green light, I thought about how initially, I didn’t even want to take this job from my father, but I had to. My first mistake was taking Holden to that bar the night I’d wanted to scope her out. I hadn’t planned on ever going back, but then the minute he laid his eyes on her, he was a goner, and I had to take the fucking job. It was the biggest one I’d ever been offered. From the get-go, I knew I was in over my head.
Hank Carr, the detective my father connected me with, had said he’d do what he could. Other than fill in some major details my father conveniently left out, his help hadn’t amounted to much. I was still pissed at my dad for putting all of us in this situation. I’d even played with the idea of hiring someone to watch her when I couldn’t, but I didn’t trust anyone else.
The gym membership was my next mistake. I’d convinced myself it was the easy way to keep her close and safe. I figured it was the least I could do, give her a comfortable place to escape.
I’d had no plans on becoming attached, and now here I was, feeling my irritation turn into a fierce protectiveness I’d never experienced. Then she had to ask for a job, and I handled that shit all wrong. Now everything was spiraling out of control.
I still couldn’t believe nor understand the life she’d had to endure. The biggest part that still didn’t make sense was the fact that nobody has stepped in to help her. Everyone, including my father, was just sitting back and watching her get treated like shit, one fucked-up-day after another. I’d finally had enough and was ready to snatch her up.
The information I’d gotten last week didn’t change any of the other facts. There were too many unknowns here, and we could all go down in flames if our feelings started clouding our judgment. Emotions made you weak, my father’s miserable life was proof of that. So I would have to do whatever it took to keep Holden and Jules apart.
They were probably completely confused, which was fine for now. Once I saw Holden in his car, waiting for her outside the bar and then caught him following us back to the motel, I had to do something. She may have heard his tires peel out, but I didn’t think she caught that it was him.
I knew Holden far too well and had no doubt he’d try to smooth things over when I wasn’t around. He’d think I was the reason she rejected him. He didn’t need to know what my interests were where she was concerned. Not yet, at least.
If I were any other asshole, he would’ve gotten out and fought me on the street for her, but in this case, because his wounded emotions were overruling his thoughts, he knew I’d win. I really wished he’d just fucking listened to me when I told him to stay away from her. He was going to end up just as miserable as our father.
He was more than likely going to kick my ass in the gym tomorrow. I’d been a complete dick to him, regardless of my reasoning.
Pulling into my garage, I refocused on my plan. Tomorrow afternoon, after I met with Carr and convinced him that this crazy ass shit couldn’t go on, we were going to settle this once and for all.
As far as I was concerned, tonight would be her last night in that hellhole.
What a shitty end to my fucked up day. I’d love to say it was the worst day of my life, but that would be far from the truth. I was sick and tired of everyone forcing me to take the power to fuck up other people’s lives just so they had someone else to blame. Every time I connected with someone, they sucked the life out of me. From this point forward, I planned on looking out for what was best for me and me alone. Everyone else could go to hell with their damn power trips.
Once I pulled myself back together after Dante left, I made sure the filthy drapery was completely closed, and the latch on the door was secure. As much as I dreaded it, I really needed a shower to wash all the bar stink off me. Undressing on the way to the bathroom, I jumped when a few roaches scampered across the floor. It didn’t matter how many of those little bastards I saw, they still gave me the heebie-jeebies. I almost wished they’d done that to Dante. I would’ve loved to see his reaction. Prick.
I squinted before flicking on the blinding bathroom light. It was such a contrast to the one in the bedroom. The rancid smell was even stronger in here, but I didn’t want to take in my surroundings long enough to figure out why. I turned on the faucet and prayed the water was clear this time. Sadly, it often wasn’t, and no matter how many times I’d scrubbed the shower, the stench of mold never went away.
I stepped under the lukewarm stream, hoping it would wash away the day. As usual, whenever I showered in one of these foul motels, memories flooded me, and not even painful thoughts of Holden or Dante could redirect them.
I cleaned my hair and body quickly while my mind lingered on a time I wished I could just fucking forget. As I reached up to touch the nozzle, I could vividly remember Travis pulling me into the basement shower, the very last evening Casey was alive.
I watch his thick, callused fingers as he yanks my already handcuffed wrists and attaches them to the chain dangling from the ceiling. I’m already naked, and the self-induced scratches on my thighs are on full display. He moves the showerhead until the freezing cold water is pelting my sensitive skin.
Fuck him. I hate him. I want to shout it in his fucking face and spit at him, but I know what I’ll get if I do. What Casey will get if I do.
I bite my tongue so hard I can taste blood when he drags Casey by the hair to join me in the basement bathroom. If it wasn’t for that fucking gag in her mouth, I’d hear her cries. The chain above me rattles from my violent shaking, but I can’t stop my body from reacting to the cold water and fear of what’s to come. Her terror-filled eyes meet mine for a brief moment as he shackles her to the wall. We know what’s coming next, and thankfully she already told me today what to say. We know better than to make any unnecessary noise. He told us enough times what he’d do to the younger girls in the house if we tried to alert anyone.
Every time I think about rebelling, I picture the innocent faces of the other two girls he used to threaten us with. They didn’t ask to be here anymore than we did, but we’re older. We can handle more.
The eerie sound of the squeaky cabinet door echoes through the bathroom. He makes a production of slowly pulling it open to reveal his torture instruments. I’ll never forget this sound for as long as I live.
My senses are honed in, on overdrive. I hear Casey's naked body brushing up against the rough walls as she tries to put more distance between her and Travis. The smell of fear surrounds us, mixed with the scent of mold, and I feel like a snared animal, longing to survive. I’m mentally preparing myself for the question that’s about to be asked.
“So, pet. What’s it gonna be tonight?”
I pray I make
the right choice, otherwise he’ll drag this out even longer. Casey may have voiced her choice to me earlier, but my words are about to seal her fate for the night.
An old, dirty washcloth drops from the faucet and covers the drain. The cold water is now beginning to pool around my feet, adding to the chill that’s assaulting my body. I force myself to focus on these small things to help my mind absorb the abuse that’s about to happen. I can only take it in little pieces at a time, though. If I take it in as a whole, the horror will overtake me, and I’ll do something stupid.
His index finger runs back and forth between the handmade torture devices.
“That one,” I whimper through chattering teeth.
He pushes his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose, a devious smile spreading across his evil face. “Wrong.”
Casey’s panic-stricken eyes reached me.
Oh shit. What have I done?
He pulls out a leather trifold that I’ve never seen before and messes with it, then looks like he has another idea. Whatever’s inside starts to hum as he goes back to the cabinet to retrieve his favorite toy. It was one of the smallest tools in there, but he knows I can’t stomach the blood it draws.
He gives me another wicked grin. Stupid fuck is feeding off my fear.
When he opens the trifold, I find myself quivering as I crane my neck to see.
“I made this special for you.”
All I see is a thick metal rod attached to wires, but I can imagine how he’ll use it.
Casey’s eyes shut tight. I can’t blame her. I wish I had the luxury of closing mine, but I know if I do, he’ll extend the time.
He picks up the metal cylinder and presses a button on the end. I feel lightheaded as soon as an electric charge sparks to life and the buzzing fills the room. With the razor sharp steel pinwheel in one hand and the shiny electric gadget in the other, Travis approaches Casey from behind.
Horrorstruck, my heart thumps even harder. He’s never used electricity on her before.
Running both items up the back of her thighs, he licks his lips as he watches her bare skin shudder. “I can’t decide which one I want to use first.” Then his cold eyes turn to me. “What’s it gonna be, Juliana?”
Something comes over me, and I completely lose it. My heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest as a blood-curdling scream bellows out of me, and I don’t stop until I feel the pain. He cut me. He’s never cut me before.
“You stupid bitch,” he growls. “Everything that happens tonight is your fault.”
No! Don’t hurt her!
But the words won’t come as easily as the scream.
Everything moves in slow motion. My ears are ringing, but I can still hear Casey quietly whimpering in the background. I look down at my stomach where he slashed a line across my lower abdomen, thick enough to expose some of my fatty tissue but not deep enough to gush blood.
My head swirls as I look into the eyes of the demon who lives and breathes in my real life horror story. Then my vision begins to blur and narrow until everything goes black.
Sometime later, I’m woken by a pain shooting through my stomach. I’m lying in my bed with slightly damp hair, and my arms and shoulders hurt like a bitch. As I begin to remember, I look frantically around the room, scared shitless.
Casey isn’t in her bed.
Pulling up the covers, I see that I’m only wearing a t-shirt and panties. I move them away from my wound and find a large gauze covering it.
Oh, shit! That really did happen.
I pull the cotton up enough to see the shoddy stitch job beneath it. It looks like someone used everyday household thread. So gross.
The house is dark and quiet when Travis wanders into my room. Chills run down my spine as I shield myself from him with my thin blanket. He never stays at our house this late.
Narrowing his eyes, he informs me, “She left. Not coming back either. Make no mistake, though. Tonight was your fault. You can deal with the consequences.”
My throat tightens. What was tonight? What did he do? Where did Casey go?
I have a hard time swallowing as he turns and leaves without another word.
What the hell does he mean? How is it my fault she left?
I can only pray she’s safe.
Refocusing on the here and now, I shook out of it and turned off the water. My body pounded like I’d just been transported from that actual day. I had to get out of the shower before more flashbacks fucked with my mind.
Jumping onto the slimy linoleum floor, I nearly slipped before pulling my one and only towel down from the shower rod. A few pairs of my panties fell into the wet tub. Disoriented, I’d forgotten that they were drying after I’d washed them a few mornings ago.
I patted myself with the towel, taking a little more time with the angry scar that ran across my abdomen, my forever reminder of that last day. The same scar Holden’s fingers had lightly caressed last night, sending me into a near panic attack.
As I reached down to pick up my underwear, a bolt of shock struck me. The crotches had all been cut in half like someone had taken scissors to them.
The hell?
And then it hit me—Owen.
I should’ve known that fucker from the front desk would retaliate after I ran out yesterday. Even though I was pretty sure he wasn’t smart enough to find a way to spy on me, just knowing he’d been in my room while I’d been gone sent me on high alert.
I rushed to the dresser where I kept most of my clothes, and a strong odor escaped when I pulled the drawer open. Every fucking piece of clothing was gone.
That son of a bitch.
Anger boiled in my blood as my body shook, and I grunted out in frustration. Hot tears made their way down my cheeks, and as much as I wanted to fight, I really didn’t know how much more I could take.
Beyond done with this day, I dragged myself to the bed and laid on top of the stiff comforter in my towel. I didn’t dare get under the covers. God only knew what was lurking there.
What am I going to do?
I had no money, and even if I did, I wasn’t about to spend another night in this shithole. Thoughts of ending my misery once and for all danced around in my head for the millionth time. I had no future and a pretty fucked up past. Sometimes I wondered why I bothered at all.
SLAM!
I jolted awake, still clutching the edge of the towel I’d slept in all night. Sitting up too quickly, my head spun as my heart thumped wildly in my chest. For a split second, I thought someone had broken into my room, but once my eyes landed on the security latch above the doorknob, I realized the sound had come from one of my loud ass neighbors.
A low, rumbling groan vibrated in my throat.
I’d hardly slept all night. I mostly stared up at the ceiling and listened to the loud banging against the wall. If I’d known it would’ve done any good and not caused more drama, I would’ve called the cops just to get them to shut the fuck up.
It wasn’t until about five this morning when my neighbor kicked the last guy out of her room, and I finally fell asleep.
Now that I knew I was marginally safe, I breathed a sigh of relief and released my death grip on the towel. My body and mind were exhausted, not to mention I still hadn’t come up with a plan for the next two days. Past experience taught me that most shelters select families above individuals, so I had no intention of going that route.
I’d been homeless before but hated the idea of sleeping on the streets again, especially since it was still supposed to be drizzling off and on for the rest of the week. Not only was it difficult to find a secure area to tuck myself in out of everyone’s sight, but I was already on edge about being watched. No matter how secluded the spot was, I wouldn’t feel safe until I checked into the next cheap motel. And even then, I was sure I’d be faced with some new crazy shit since it just seemed to be my lot in life.
With a groan, I threw on my clothes from yesterday and ran a brush through my hair with twenty minutes to sp
are before check-out. There was no reason to hang out any longer than I needed to, and since check-out was automatic when you didn’t pay for the next night, I wouldn’t have to go into the office.
Picking up my bag that still had one of my clean work outfits and the hoodie I’d stolen from Holden, I left the motel room for the last time.
Good-fucking-riddance.
My first stop was at the only thrift store I shopped in. None of my foster parents had ever given me money for clothes, so when I was a teenager, I’d scrimp and save any cash I found and always ended up in this same shop. As much as I’d always hated the mildew and dusty smell in there, today, I welcomed the familiarity of the place.
I wasn’t looking for clothes this shopping trip, though. The evenings were getting colder, and my best friend for the next couple of days was going to be a fairly clean blanket I spotted down an aisle. It was small enough to fit in my bag and hopefully warm enough to fight the chill. It was also only a few bucks, which was all I could spare.
Once I paid, I stuffed what little cash I had left in my pocket. As I shuffled through my dreary day, I refused to think about tonight. The chicken soup and warm bread served at the church for lunch was the best food I’d eaten without Holden in weeks.
Holden…
Stop!
Why the hell did I have to keep thinking about him? Apparently, I enjoyed torturing myself.
I contemplated the idea of getting my paycheck on Friday and moving out of the area to get a fresh start. Holden constantly encouraged me to go to college, insisting he could help me with student loan applications when I said I couldn’t afford it. I liked that he assumed I wasn’t a loser willing to be stuck in a dead-end job for the rest of my life. It was uplifting to have someone talk to me about future plans, but I couldn’t go to him for help anymore. I was on my own once again.
That thought made me change directions and head to the community college in town. Technically, I’d been fighting to have a future, and what better way than to get a college education? I’d done well in high school, even with all the catastrophes going on in my life.