Don't be sorry. Be better. Be something more than a pain in the goddamn ass all the time. The words echoed through her mind, a distant memory from a time passed, further shaming her. Pulling back the duvet on their king-sized bed, she hopped up and drew them over her, wrapping herself in a cocoon. Reaching over for the remote, she flipped Netflix on and decided to lose herself in re-runs of Buffy until sleep finally claimed her. At least getting lost in someone else's drama would take away the pain of her own for a little while.
Some time later, a large thud woke her from a sound sleep. The flat screen TV mounted to the wall across from her bed was stuck on the "Are you still watching..." screen, indicating that she'd been asleep for a least a couple of hours. Flicking it off, she switched on the beside lamp and saw that Brant had indeed come home and was swaying back and forth in the corner of the room as he struggled to get his boots off. The clock on the nightstand told her it was just after two a.m., and even several feet away, she could smell the whiskey. Getting up in the morning for work wasn't going to be a fun occurrence for either of them with him in that state. She was on the early shift the rest of the week at the coffee shop, and needed to be there in just four hours.
Sighing, she got out of bed and crossed to him, intent on helping him get into bed. The second she touched his arm, he turned on her, startling her with a flying back fist, that in light of his drunken state, missed her face and caught her on the upper arm. It might not have been the tender skin of her cheek, but it still hurt like hell and she cried out, backing away.
"Brant, stop please. Let me help you get to bed," she tried to reason with him.
"Don't need your fucking shlep," he slurred, advancing on her. "Always bitching, bitching, bitching," he sneered. He grabbed her by the front of her pajama top and started to drag her, uncaring when she lost her balance and toppled over. Her pant leg rode up, exposing her skin to the carpet as he pulled her along, a rug burn licking up her shin like fire.
She twisted and turned, and somehow managed to get free, but not before the top of her pajamas tore open, exposing her to him. She saw the lust in his eyes as he stared greedily at her bare breasts and knew what was coming.
"Brant, no. Let's just get you in bed so we can both get some sleep. The alarm is—" she broke off when he grabbed her and threw her down on the bed, crashing down on top of her. His mouth was open, hot and heavy on her skin as he sucked clumsily on her neck and continued down to her breasts where he bit down so painfully she was sure he'd drawn blood. She kicked her legs and tried to buck him off, but it was no use, he was twice her size and too heavy for her to be any match for his strength and determination to take what he wanted.
"Fucking whore, always giving me shit. No wonder your own mother didn't want you." His words temporarily immobilized her as they cut straight into her soul. Her body going limp, Brant used that opportunity to shove her pajama pants down and free his cock from his pants. He was in her in one thrust, not caring that she wasn't wet for him at all. His pace was brutal, punishing as his breathed his whiskey-filled breath into her face.
His fingers dug painfully into her hips as he pumped into her, gaining more and more speed. Maisie's eyes rolled back in her head as she tried not to think about the humiliating pain he was putting her through. When he noticed her inattention, his temper snapped further, if that was possible.
"Can't even fucking look at me while I'm getting you off, huh? Ungrateful little cunt." Before she could reply, his hands encircled her throat and he began to squeeze, the pressure on her windpipe devastating. Flailing her arms was no use, beating them on his chest did nothing to stop him. Black dots danced behind her eyes as the lack of oxygen started to get to her. He was going to kill her.
Bucking wildly, her hips met his and had the opposite effect to what she wanted, it gave him a better angle and he groaned, but thankfully released his hold on her neck enough to allow her to suck in much needed air. Pawing at her breasts, he twisted her nipples so hard she thought he'd rip them right off as he finally released himself inside her on a long, drawn out moan.
"You're lucky I like fucking this tight little pussy," he breathed into her ear after he'd collapsed all of his weight on top of her. Lying there, covered in his sweat, his drunken breath blowing over her and his seed spilling out of her, she'd never wanted to die more. The urge to just give up and admit that she wasn't good enough for the life she had was so overwhelming, that if there'd been a gun beside her, she would have happily used it and put them both out of their misery. He'd staked his claim on her, reminded her she was nothing more than a possession, and not even a treasured one at that. Maisie was his, and no matter what, he was never going to let her go.
For one moment, just one second, she dropped her mask and let all her hatred and loathing show in her eyes. The absolute disgust she felt for him in that moment stripped away any self survival skills and instead temper took up residence. "You're a pathetic piece of shit." Maisie spoke so quietly, she wasn't sure at first he heard her, but then, black rage stormed over Brant's face and she instantly regretted her stupid moment of bravado. Sitting back on his heels, he raised his fist and delivered a stunning blow to her eye. Pain exploded everywhere and then everything went black.
Maisie poured the decaf coffee beans into the canister and discarded the empty bag in the trash. She only had the baked goods display to stock and then she would be ready to open the doors of Coffee Time on time at seven a.m. It was a miracle that she'd made it to work at all, after the brutal episode with Brant the night before and being knocked unconscious. She'd somehow awakened just before her alarm, and dragged herself into the shower to cry out her pain. her entire body felt the after affects of his assault, there wasn't an inch of her that wasn't throbbing. She had no idea how long she sat on the floor of the shower, her tears mixing with the water, but when she heard movement in the bedroom and knew that Brant was up, she quickly shut off the faucet, panicked that she'd let the hot water run cold.
Fortunately, Brant skipped a shower that morning, and instead headed straight downstairs for coffee, leaving Maisie alone to figure out how she was going to hide the marks of his latest beating. Her eye was puffy and had the beginning of a shiner, but thankfully wasn't swollen shut as had happened in the past. Her neck was the worst of it, the angry purple and blue marks were going to be next to impossible to hide, and she was right. In the end, after spilling silent tears while trying to dab foundation over the marks, she had to give up. The pain was too excruciating for her to bear. She grabbed a scarf, and knotted it around her neck, her only way to camouflage the trauma.
The rest of her, the claw marks on her red and swollen breasts, the fingernail indentations at her hips and the carpet burn on her shin, would all be hidden by her clothes. Another episode with Brant would be successfully hidden from the world, or so it seemed. Her secret was safe.
Coming back to the present, she walked into the back kitchen of Coffee Time, and smiled at Jerry, the owner. He was just finishing up the trays of fresh baked goods for her to add to their display.
"Here you go, Maisie. Got your favorites in this morning. Cinnamon raisin bagels," he told her with a wink. He was a kind man who always did his best to brighten her day. She offered him a weak smile in thanks and headed back out front to complete the rest of the chores needed to open the store for the day. Every part of her was screaming in pain, she had no idea how she'd be able to concentrate on anything, let alone make complicated coffee orders all day. Her bottle of Aspirin in her purse was empty, she'd have to make a run to the store on her break for a refill.
Greer blew in through the front door a few moments later, letting in the cold morning air behind her. She had her short red hair all in braids around her head, and her yellow t-shirt was so bright it made Maisie's eyes hurt.
"Morning!" she sang, whipping off her large black sunglasses and placing them on her head. "Well aren't you just the little over-achiever, everything done already!" she teased.
"W
ell, unlike some of us, when I come to work, I actually can be productive," Maisie snapped. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she turned bright red and began apologizing. Greer turned around and glared at her, hurt written all over her face. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, Greer. I'm a jerk. I had bitch in my coffee this morning instead of sugar. Please, don't listen to me and please forgive me for being so rude."
Greer's expression smoothed out and she nodded, accepting the apology. "You okay? Don't take this wrong, I'm not saying it because you just pissed me off, but you really do look like shit."
Maisie sighed and began typing the codes in on the registers to get them logged on and ready for orders. "I'm fine. Just one of those things, you know? Not enough sleep clearly had me putting my cranky pants hat on this morning. I'm sorry, truly."
"Don't worry about it. I've spewed my bitch around before, that's forsure. Sometimes even with the customers," she said on a laugh. "Gonna throw my stuff in my locker, be right back."
She headed into the back, and Maisie dropped her head in her hands in dismay. What was wrong with her? Taking out her frustration over what happened with Brant on Greer? She was no better than he was by acting like that.
The morning rush started soon after, and as the day went on, Maisie began feeling the affects of the beating more and more. Her throat was throbbing, her eye was aching and weariness was setting in as she tried to keep up the facade of nothing being wrong.
"Have a nice day, sir," she told a middle-aged man as she handed him an armful of black coffees and he walked out the door.
"Maisie? What are you doing?" Jerry asked from directly behind her. She glanced back at him in confusion. "You just gave all those coffees away for free, you didn't charge that man." His eyebrows were pulled tight together and his frown showed his displeasure.
"Oh. I didn't even realize. Honestly, Jerry, I've never done that before. I'm sorry, let me get the money from my tips to cover it," she said, hurrying to the tip jar.
"No, that's fine. Just try to pay more attention, okay?" He patted her shoulder and disappeared into the back through the swinging door. Greer slid down the counter next to her.
"Dude, seriously, what is up today? I mean, I can take the heat, I've got thick skin. But I've never seen you mess up like that with a customer. You know you can talk to me if something's going on, right?" Greer's concern was sincere and instead of being a comfort, all it did was force the tears Maisie had been choking back all day to rise farther up her throat.
"I know, it's just—" she broke off with what she was about to say when she glanced up and fell into the dark pools of Ridge's eyes. There he was, on the other side of the counter, studying her intently. She swallowed and cast her gaze downcast, embarrassed and ashamed that he'd witnessed what just happened.
"Hey, Maisie, nice to see you again. Can I get a couple of coffees to go please?" his tone was casual, but his stare was anything but. He was trying to penetrate beneath her walls, to see what she was hiding. Strip away her defenses and reveal all that she kept hidden from the world. And damn him, it was working.
"Sure," she replied and moved away from Greer to get his order ready. She listened half-heartedly while the two of them chatted, Greer pulling out all the stops with her flirting. That same flare of jealously she'd had before sparked in her, but she didn't have the energy to mull over why those types of feelings kept popping up when he was around.
Finished with his coffee, she carried the two cups back over and bumping Greer lightly with her hip, keyed the order into the register. Ridge's eyes never left her as he handed her the money, again telling her to keep the change.
"Thank you," she whispered, misery evident in her tone. He gave her one last look and then left, leaving the two girls staring after him.
"Well, I know for a fact that my flirting skills aren't rusty. That man right there, he didn't even bat an eye at me. But he damn sure couldn't keep his eyes off you. The chemistry between you two was off the charts," Greer commented.
"What? No. It wasn't," Maisie argued, starting to panic. If she thought something was going on...
"Hey, hey relax. You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm not a fool, I can see that you're unhappy, Maisie. And if that boyfriend of yours is the reason, then I say dump the douche and take your chances with Mr. Sexy Pants. Life is way too short to be stuck living a life that doesn't fulfill all your needs. And I'd be my last dollar that this one," she jerked her thumb towards the door Ridge had vacated through. "He has all the right equipment to make sure you'll always be more than satisfied. Just saying." Greer might have appeared flighty at times, but she actually was a kind soul, one Maisie was lucky to have in her life. She stared out the window, lost in thoughts as possibilities of what could be roamed through her mind.
Ridge walked into his office a few blocks away from Coffee Time, and set the coffees down on his desk. The Private Investigator business he co-owned with his brother, Ramsey, had really started to pick up speed over the last several months. Cases were rolling in daily and it wouldn't be long before they'd have to think about hiring on some extra help. Since his days as a pro boxer out in L.A. were over, he'd needed a new career and with the combined skills of himself and his brother, who used to be a Detective, going into business together seemed like the logical choice. Ridge was a whizz with computers, what some might call a hacker even. He prided himself on being able to crack any codes, to get past any firewalls. While they tried to stick to the law as closely as possible, it was necessary once in awhile on a case to do a little spying to give the the head start they needed to close a case.
Ramsey ended his call and walked through the doorway that adjoined their two offices. They didn't have an official secretary yet, another thing that was beginning to become an issue. Just the billing piece alone was a full-time job that they were fitting in on their evenings after the workday had been completed.
"Picked up a missing person's case. Mother searching for her daughter that disappeared three years ago. Police have it as a cold case at the moment, likely thinking she's a teenage runaway." He dropped a folder on Ridge's desk. "The details are in there, we start on that one next week," Ramsey filled him in.
"Good work. I closed the Murphy file last night. Final payment should be coming in and then I'll set up their exit meeting." Ramsey nodded and took a long sip of his coffee. That concluded their routine morning meeting.
Ridge was the older of the two, at thirty-four-years old. Both of their parents had been killed in a car crash when Ridge was in his early twenties, leaving him to care for a still teenage Ramsey. With the injustice of losing both his parents, the only family they had, and being made into a guardian at such a young age, Ridge had turned to the world of underground fighting. He quickly became a legend in the ring and before long, was scouted to fight in the big leagues. He had several World Titles under his belt before a shattered wrist ended his career.
By that time, Ramsey had made Detective with the Seattle Police Department. After an unfortunate mishandling of a case, he was forced to a desk job which he hated. Ridge moving back to their hometown couldn't have come at a better time and together they formed Buchannan Brothers P.I.
"Hello? You in there? Where'd you disappear to?" Ramsey snapped his fingers in front of his face and blinking, Ridge broke out of his thoughts.
"Sorry, been one of those mornings."
"Uh oh. Don't tell me its about a woman."
When Ridge remained silent, Ramsey swore under his breath. "Dammit, Ridge. You can't get all tied up in a woman now, we don't have time for those distractions," Ramsey complained.
"I'm not all tied up in anyone. I met a woman yes, but she's not available. There's just something about her damn sad, brown eyes that I can't get out of my head. I think she might be in some sort of trouble," Ridge admitted.
"Trouble? What kind of trouble? Like rob a bank trouble? Or having too many orgies kind of trouble?"
"Shut up. I'm gonna run a search on her and se
e what I can find out."
Ramsey groaned. "Fine. But if it turns out that she is in some kind of shit, do me a favor and stay away from her. We don't need any drama in our lives right now." With that, he headed back into his office and closed the door.
Ridge sighed and leaning back in his chair, steepled his hands behind his head. Ramsey was right, if Maisie was into some bad shit, the last thing he wanted was to be caught up in it. Still, he wasn't lying to Ramsey. There was something about her that drew him in. Those damn big brown eyes and the way she seemed so fragile all the time. If he found out that someone was hurting her, well there wouldn't be anywhere in the world that the fucker could hide from him; no matter what type of drama it brought to his door.
Blake came through the front door of Maisie's house like a hurricane, making such a racket that Maisie heard her all the way up in the attic where she had her own music playing at a pretty loud decibel. There was a clatter as something dropped on the tiled floor, followed by a slew of curses that would have made any sailor proud.
"Maisie! Where are you?" Blake yelled.
Shaking her head, Maisie grabbed a rag and wiped the paint off her hands. "I'm up here!" she called back. Using the impromptu little break, she stood back to study her work so far. She'd taken a break from the painting of Brant, and had instead switched over to the landscape photo of the sun and trees she'd captured a few days earlier on the swings at the park. She was completely in love with it so far, the sunlight has transformed into a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors and mixed in with the green treetops and blue sky, it really was becoming one of her favorite pieces. Something about the tranquility of it gave her a feeling of peace, hope. Bringing this painting to life had given her the outlet she needed to let go of the hate in her heart over what had happened to her and opened up a desire to heal and move forward, instead of being sucked down into the dark abyss that was threatening to claim her.
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