by T. L Smith
He stops, and I slam into his back, too preoccupied looking around. He grunts at me as I take a step back, averting my eyes from everyone else, and notice we don’t have a table like everyone else in the open. Instead, we’re in a corner booth which is very hidden.
He takes a seat and pulls me down to sit next to him. We are sitting right next to each other with our thighs touching. I don’t look at him, my eyes are still glued to the people all around us. Just before I can turn to ask him what kind of place this is, food is placed down in front of us, and not ordinary food that you’d be served at a bar. No, this is five star, the same types of food served that you’d see in movies. My plate is large and white, it looks so empty apart from the single serving of steak sitting in the middle placed on top a bed of potatoes. The sauce is drizzled over it perfectly, making it look like some sort of masterpiece painting.
He doesn’t give me any words as he lifts his knife and starts cutting his steak. So, I do the same, unsure of what’s going on, but hungry because I haven’t eaten since ten this morning. The first bite is delicious and I moan into my mouth.
Holy shit! Who knew steak could taste this good?
I wonder what this all costs.
“How much is this?” I turn to ask him, his eyes are already on me observing me eat. His violet eyes stare at me, as he watches my mouth while finishing the last bite.
“Two-hundred dollars,” he answers matter-of-factly.
If I hadn’t finished that piece of steak, I would have choked on it. Placing my knife and fork back down, I decide I will not eat anymore. Especially not considering that it has cost more than my grocery bill for the whole month—that’s ridiculous.
“Are you rich?” I ask him.
He doesn’t touch his steak again as he sits back further into his seat so he can see me even better. I have to turn my head slightly to see him more clearly. His eyes feel too much, so I look away and around the room again. People are starting to stand, the men are beginning to strip. Turning back to him, his eyes on me and I wonder if he knows what’s happening.
“Where are we?” I ask, staring at him and not looking away this time. His perfect eyebrows are scrunched as he watches me carefully.
“Dinner,” he states, looking around then coming back to stop on me. “You’re overdressed, though,” he says with his hand coming down on my thigh. I look at it then back to him, he’s watching me as always. “So, let’s change that.” He nods for me to stand.
Not having quite worked out why I feel the need to do as he says, I stand with him right behind me and literally the minute I stand, his front is plastered to my back. Taking a step forward, to place some space between us doesn’t work either because he does the exact same thing and follows me step by step, guiding me with his hands on my hips.
The room is quieter now, the people who occupy it no longer sit around naked, eating. Stopping with his hand on my hip, he steps forward in front of me, releasing me, and opening a door. He walks in and looks back at me to follow him. I do, walking into a long corridor with red lights shining down from the ceiling. I hear noises and I can’t quite make them out. The sounds are familiar, I just can’t seem to place them. He stops in front of me and reaches his strong hand up to the wall where there’s a switch, and when he pushes it a light comes on. It illuminates the room so we can see them, just like a two-way mirror.
When I turn, I see people in a room, three of them, fucking. Two men and one woman.
She’s sitting on the man’s lap, and another man is standing in front of her stroking his cock in front of her lips, leaning in for her lips to taste him. The man below her bounces her harder, making it even harder for her to wrap her lips around his cock, but she licks her lips and pokes her tongue out so she can lick the tip while he strokes it.
I watch her reach her climax. It happens right in front of me, there’s only a glass wall separating us. The minute she does, the man standing walks behind her and leans down, he rubs his cock again then places his hand between her legs, stroking her wet pussy taking some of her juices and bringing it back to her ass, lifting her from the man’s lap with his strong hands. She’s still breathing hard as she arches, giving him better access before he pushes her forward, leaning onto the other guy below her as he puts his cock in her.
A hand touches my hip again, but I don’t stop it as it circles around and dips below the waistband of my pants and under my panties—he touches and begins to stroke me. My breathing becomes harder as I stay where I am, watching, with his hands down my panties playing with my clit. Just as I’m about to close my eyes, he flicks me and removes his hand, pulling it away. Turning to face him, I see him licking his lips with a smirk on his face.
“Later,” he says, turning the light off and continuing to walk.
Taking a few deep breaths, I gather up the nerve to ask him, “What is this place?”
He stops again not far from the first window. Looks to me, but this time all sexual energy is gone like it’s evaporated from his eyes.
“Your hell,” is all he says as he flicks on another light.
When I turn my heart stops, my hands sweat, and I know I’m about to pass out.
Chapter 7
Growing up I had one person in my life, my mother. Sometimes I think that she didn’t deserve that title, ‘mother’, because she wasn’t one. It was always about her and what she could get out of this life or the people around her. In her eyes, people were objects that were made to be used.
I lost count of the amount of men she brought home to our small trailer. What made it worse was the fact that I didn’t even have a room—we slept together. So, every time she was off fucking someone in our one-bedroom trailer, I had to hear every detail. No matter how much I tried to block it out, by turning up the television or trying to fall asleep, nothing worked. It was always there, the sounds of her lying pleasure—yes, lying. She would complain about how much of a lousy fuck they were once they left. Telling me all about them, even when I wasn’t old enough to understand what sex was. Though, I learned that part pretty fast, once you walk in on someone who was always having it.
I used to think I hated her, despised her for keeping me. Why couldn’t she have given me up for adoption? Sent me into the system. Let’s face it, she didn’t want me or need me. But I was her check, I learned once I was old enough, and she was not doing anything to fuck up that income.
Going to school I didn’t have any friends, I was an outcast because everyone knew who my mother was and what she did. She slept with most of my schoolfriend’s fathers, even some of the teachers at my high school. Her reputation was starting to rub off on me, and I had only just grown boobs.
Teenage boys would ask me to suck their cocks. I was shocked and appalled at their words until I made friends with one boy. At first, I didn’t think he saw me for what I was, or who I was raised by. Going to his house after school was my new favorite thing. He had a pool and a house—an actual house. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in a real house, unless it was a quick stop with my mother to pick up something, even then I was told to wait out front.
So, I met a boy. One that didn’t speak to me as if I were my mother. One who showed me an ounce of respect. His name was Derrick. I lusted after Derrick, or so I thought because he was so different, so popular. He liked me even with my old clothes, which were my mother’s because she hated spending money on me, and buying me clothes was definitely not on her list of must-haves. Anything to do with me was a waste of money that could be more easily spent on her.
After two months together with Derrick, and feeling like I was a human again, not something that a person kept because she wanted what she could get out of me, I felt alive. And it was all thanks to him. So, I gave him what I never thought I’d give another person—for the simple fact that I never wanted to, never felt the need to—I gave him myself. He was different though, wasn’t he?
“Just pull it all off,” he’d said when we were in his bedroom. I’d n
ever done this before, so he was instructing me on what I had to do. He was naked, and already lying on his bed waiting for me. Removing my clothes, one by one, I saw his eyes light up at what he saw.
No one had ever seen me naked. Even at my own house, I made sure I showered with underwear on. For one primary reason—I did not trust who Mom brought home, and who could possibly walk in on me.
So there I was—not a scrap of clothing on me. My black hair was long and shapeless and skimmed the length of my back due to not being able to afford a salon visit. My fair complexion was so light due to never showing any skin. And here was a boy that was looking at me like I was everything. And in that moment, I honestly thought I was. He was popular and had dated the head cheerleader. Still, he chose me.
That experience was not one I enjoyed. I believed I’d never have sex again after that. It was too painful, and he wasn’t gentle with me at all, he was rough and it hurt. Then it happened again a week later because he was being nice to me, only this time it wasn’t as painful. Nevertheless, I still had no pleasure in it.
Thinking I was meant to tell him, I asked him, “Will I enjoy it eventually?” His face went from caring to angry within a second. His nostrils had flared, and I watched as his pupils dilated. He stood to throw my clothes at me, and I had no idea what was happening. He called out a name I didn’t quite catch, and one of his friends opened the door and looked between us.
“She wants to be fucked…” He looked at me, still so angry. “Let him fuck you, and be a good girl,” he stated as he threw on a shirt and walked out of the room.
I was still naked under the bed sheets as his friend started to undress and climb in with me. Thinking I should tell him no and that I didn’t want to do this, was all I wanted to say, but I didn’t. Letting one of his friends climb into that bed with me, in that moment, was the biggest mistake of my life. It was the exact moment I turned into my mother, the person I hated the most.
Because it didn’t stop with his friend.
It went on and on and on.
I could never run from Derrick, and a part of me didn’t want to either. Even after that night, I was at his house every day with him. He had a car, so where he went, I went. After that first time with his friend, who was just as bad as Derrick was, I asked him no more.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled as he looked at me. “You’re mine, Milanka. So, you fuck who I say you fuck.” He turned back to the road and continued to drive. Derrick was a devil wearing a mask. He was my first masked devil, and I was determined he would be my last, the minute I could get away.
I did everything he asked. Everything. Attended all his parties with a smile on my face and dressed the way he chose. My mother never even noticed I was gone, but she didn’t care. I spent more and more time with Derrick. I wished in those moments I was a stronger woman, not a weak one that allowed myself to be pushed around.
Derrick’s arm was around me one night, we were with a group of his friends sitting down talking. We were waiting for everyone to arrive because, as usual, he was throwing another party. Turning to look at Derrick I saw everything I liked in him—from his brown messed-up hair that looked like he didn’t need to style it because he woke up like that, his lips that sucked me in in the first place with his smooth words that he would send my way, to his brown eyes that if you looked close enough you could see the evil leaching from them.
It took me too long to work that part out, though.
If only I were smarter.
If only I had been born a different person.
Different mother.
Different life.
Those thoughts of ‘if only’ always run around in my head.
Why can’t that happen to me?
The girls that came around had perfect lives, yet they complained about the stupidest things. I never understood them. Therefore, I was never friends with them.
Nicole was the first girl I saw walk into the house with her posse behind her. She was Derrick’s ex and the head cheerleader, and she was still madly in love with him. I was constantly on the receiving end of the crude jokes, innuendoes and snarls she sent my way every day at school.
Today, though, she didn’t even look at me as she walked in. Nicole made a beeline straight to Derrick, his arm dropped from around my waist, and I wanted to claw at him to bring it back where it belonged. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, leaving me standing right there wondering what she was saying. He pulled back, looked at her then to me. His fingers clicked in the air. His friend appeared, one of the boys on the football team he was captain of.
“Take Milanka to my room,” he said to him.
I was about to protest when he interjected looking at me.
“Show him a good time, Milanka.”
I didn’t nod because I didn’t see any reason to. His friend already had hold of my hand and was dragging me away, while Nicole smirked as she watched me with laughter in her eyes.
Hated him.
I hated him more in that moment than I ever hated anyone before.
The feelings were strong, but he was the only man to show he cared and showed me any compassion. He bought me new clothes and shoes. It was the first time I’d received something that was brand new, considering I always wore my mother’s old hand-me-downs.
He made me feel, eighty percent of the time, the other twenty percent wasn’t so great. But I wasn’t willing to destroy that eighty percent by disappointing him. So, I did what he said, I slept with his friends. By the fourth friend, I started to really enjoy sex. I liked the way they looked at me when I was naked, like I was more than what I was. Not some trailer park girl.
He was sleeping with Nicole again, and he started to ignore me at school a few weeks after that night. He didn’t pull away straight away, it was a slow burn, and I didn’t even see it until it was in my face. Until I saw him fucking her in the same bed he had me in the night before. I stopped going over there even though I wanted to be there more than anything. Let’s face it, the last place I wanted to be was in the trailer listening to my mother make sounds that I knew all too well now.
Had I turned into her?
I couldn’t turn into that… into her!
He treated me different, right?
Not like the men treated her, I was sure of it.
We went back and forth until the day we left high school. I would always forgive him and go back, let him treat me the same way he’d always done. In return, he would buy me things, some things I didn’t even need or want. The gift, though, in itself was like a child receiving a new toy, every time. I’m guessing it felt like what a child would feel when opening gifts on Christmas morning.
The after-party from graduation changed all my thoughts. It made me clearly realize what I had become.
On that night, I ran, with a single bag and all I had to my name, and never came back.
Chapter 8
His hands grip my hips as a scream leaves my lips.
Am I about to pass out?
Run?
I don’t know.
My mother’s behind that glass partition, and the position she’s in is one I never want to see again. Still, here I stand with it being seared into my brain like a branding iron would mark cattle for the rest of their lives. I pull trying to get away, but his hands grip harder into my hips. I’m breathing heavily and afraid my breaths will leave me at any second. She can’t see me, even though her eyes are glassed over and she’s looking straight at us.
“Who are you?” I ask turning to him.
His hands lift from my hips and I watch as he stares at me. He’s watching my face for my reaction, wondering what I’ll do.
“Connick,” he states.
His name—the first real piece of information I’ve gotten from him.
I attempt to walk away, but he grabs hold of my hand, stopping me.
Turning back to him my lips form a hard line. “Let. Me. Go,” I say pulling to get my hand free.
“You
sure you don’t want a room, Milanka?” his voice is teasing.
Shaking my head, I pull again with no luck. “I want to go.”
He releases my hand, and just before I can make it to the front door, he’s right behind me pulling it open for me to exit.
“What do you want?” I scream at him.
His eyes skim around outside the building then land back on me. “I want to drive you home.” He walks to his car and pulls the passenger door open. I look around in the desperate hope that I can use a cab, but the night is dead quiet.
So, I comply and walk to it and climb in. Connick shuts the door, walks around the front of the car and slides into his seat. As he drives, I stare out the window and wonder what my next move will be. Because right now I need to get away again, and this time I won’t let those dark, sexy voices with hypnotizing eyes break my will.
Before I realize it, he comes to a stop and just before he has a chance to say anything, or even move, I get out of the car and run, straight to my house, quickly moving through the door and locking it behind me. My back slides down the door, I hold onto my knees for support, while I wait to listen for his car, hoping he will drive off and I never have to see him again.
Six months later…
I woke in a hospital with Marina standing over me a few months ago. It’s happened again, a trigger, she informed me.
The thing about having a psychotic episode is that you don’t remember what you did. They come, and it’s like someone else that takes control of your mind and body. The only way to come down, for me in the past, has been hospitalization. That was how I met Marina, the first time it happened, and she’s been my psychiatrist ever since. She’s explained to me that they can never pinpoint why the episodes come or return. But most cases people live a healthy life, and some never regress into the psychosis again. To hear that mine has returned scares me more than anything else in this life. I don’t even understand these episodes, so I see Marina all the time to make sure I’m okay. Even when I no longer needed to see her, when I was placed on medication and hadn’t had an episode for years, I still kept on seeing her. In a way it made me feel like I was staying healthy that way. If I saw someone who could potentially help me if I was steering down the wrong path gave me strength. Marina analyzed me for months. I didn’t want to leave the small hospital she worked at because it felt safe to be there, even if the medication had done its job. So I stayed longer than necessary.