“Don’t what me, girl. Do I look like a damn light bulb? Get your lazy ass in that kitchen and make the boys and me some food. We are working up an appetite in here.”
Bill guffawed at his own joke, and the rest of his buddies laughed with him like a group of seals barking on command.
“I don’t feel like cooking, Bill. I’m tired. Make it yourself.” She had never talked back before, but it seemed pointless to stay quiet and be obedient. She’d done that for too long, and now, her mother was dead.
Bill’s shock registered on his face, and Vega turned her back on the four sets of eyes boring into her and looking her up and down with lusty contempt. Exhausted, yet restless, Vega returned to the kitchen. The thought of food made her stomach churn. Every time she thought of eating, she became ill, and the memory of blood in her mother’s hair filled her mind.
Her hands braced palms down on the counter, she slipped back onto the wobbling stool and faced the window. Vega’s mind drifted as she waited for the sun to set.
I’ll feel better when the sky lights up with color and the stars begin to wink through. Something about the way the world bled together at the end of the day had always filled her with thoughts of Zane and bittersweet joy. She felt close to him in the fading moments where day and night met in an explosion of orange, pinks, blues, and purples.
In her mind, she and Zane walked hand-in-hand through fields of tall grass, laughing with joy as they made their way back to happy homes. Her back to the living room door, she sat lost in thoughts and fantasies where she didn’t belong to such an ugly world.
Bill’s fingers wrapped around her bicep, pale against the colorful tattoos covering her flesh, and shook her out of her reverie. She hadn’t noticed him slip into the room, even in his drunken and stumbling state.
Vega struggled to free her arm and nearly fell, but Bill’s hand covered the back of her neck in a painful grip.
“What the hell are you doing, Bill? Get off!” Shrieking, she pushed hard against his chest with her free hand.
He growled, spittle flying from his mouth as his hand squeezed tighter. Breath stinking of alcohol and rotted teeth, he mockingly crooned, “Poor little, Vega. The murderer feels bad, does she?”
Vega jerked again, harder this time, and Bill stumbled. Instead of escaping, she only managed to pull him closer, and he leaned heavily against her. The press of his body pinning her back against the counter sent Vega into a panicked rage.
“Stop it! Let go!” She fought, wishing she had a weapon and wanting him to die.
“Shut up, you little bitch. You listen to me. This is my house, and my roof over that pretty little head of yours.” His words slurred. “You’ll earn your keep, or I’ll put you out.”
“Leave me alone,” she screamed, still struggling. “If you want me out, I’ll go.”
Bill’s entire body weighed against her. “Where would you go? No one’s going to take you in. You had it good while your mamma was here, but you’re gonna take her place now.” His fingers released her wrist to pin her jaw between their pinching grasp. “You’re going to do what I say, and you’re going to be an even better whore than she was.”
Fear paralyzed Vega, making it impossible to fight. Her voice seemed to want to hide from him as much as the rest of her, and all she could do was whimper. “No. Bill, no.”
Thoughts raced through her head like cars on a racetrack. Where will I go? I’ll starve. There’s nowhere and no one for me. He’s going to trick me out on the street and to his disgusting friends. He’s going to turn me into her. No, no, no.
Bill leaned in and brought his lips close to her ear. The smell of whiskey coated his breath as he promised, “I’m going to have you first, and then my friends get a turn. Don’t worry, little Vega, we will teach you right.”
Her hand somehow managed to raise, cracking hard across his unshaven cheek. The vibration of the strike knocked her backward as he released her neck. Violent tremors rocking her body and vision hazed with fear and rage, Vega braced herself and swiped at the hot tears running down her cheeks, ready to fight. She’d die before she’d be used up and tossed away as her mother had been.
The moment of stunned silence faded, and Bill’s eyes glazed over with a mania Vega knew well. She searched for a way to escape, but he had her in a corner, separating her from the door. Without a way to run, she steeled herself for the blow that would come next and prayed his friends would stop it before they had to bury her next to her mother.
“I’ll make you pay for that, bitch.” Bill growled, more spit flying off his lips as he narrowed his eyes. He lurched forward, stumbled back a step, and then squared his shoulders.
The anticipation of the pain ate at Vega as she fought not to cower away. Do not back down, she ordered herself. Do not give him the pleasure of seeing you afraid.
But when Bill brought one large, stubby hand up to rake through his unruly brown hair, she whimpered. A cruel smirk spread across his lips, and the mean glint of his unfocused eyes promised Vega she’d regret fighting.
The shrill ring of the phone broke the tense moment, and Vega turned to where it stood on the stained countertop. In a flash, her hand shot out, grabbing for any form of distraction. The hit came, unseen as she fought for the saving grace of a human on the other line. Bill’s large fist pummeled into the back of her head, causing her to stumble. Vega’s lower back to scrape against the cabinet edge and she cried out in pain.
Through the spinning of the world and the pulsing in her skull, Vega listened to Bill’s slurring voice.
“Wha’dya want?” he bellowed into the phone as he stalked to the fridge to retrieve another beer.
On hands and knees, Vega crawled away, praying he didn’t kick her as she edged around his steel toe boots. The nausea rose up in her mouth, but she pressed her lips together and gritted her teeth. It seemed to take forever to reach the doorframe, and pulling herself up caused pain to shoot through her head like a hot iron.
Just as she managed to stand, Bill screamed again. Vega jumped and nearly fell as her head jerked toward the sound.
“I don’t give a shit who you are, lady. She can’t talk.” Bill’s eyes, sharp and cutting, glared at her as he slammed the phone back into its cradle.
Vega turned and scurried down the hall and into her room, slamming the door behind her and turning the lock. The flimsy slide bolt wouldn’t keep him out, but it might slow him down or deter him. If she were lucky, he’d give up and go back to his friends.
“Tomorrow, I’ll leave. I’ll pack my stuff and I’ll go…somewhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. When he goes down to Jimmy’s to drink himself stupid, I’ll go. He won’t touch me. He won’t make me like her,” she whispered to the dirty white paint on the door.
The hard bed offered little comfort as she sunk down onto the sheets and stared at the spot where her mother had died. The carpet, stained with rusty red, brought the horrors of that day back—bright and fresh in her mind. Vega counted the emotions and let the shame wash over her.
Pain, regret, anger, and joy. Yes, for a brief moment, I felt free, knowing she couldn’t hurt me anymore. What kind of monster am I? Remorse and guilt dealt an instant blow to her heart. The kind that kills her own mother, she answered.
The tears came again, and it felt as if she had been crying forever. Lying back on the cover, she shut her eyes to the cruel world and tried hard to picture Zane’s smiling face. Her body ached with the need to feel his arms around her, holding her tight. She wished for his words and his sparkling eyes, both telling her everything would be okay.
“Zane, where are you when I need you the most?” Her words trailed into a soft whisper as she fell into a fitful and dreamless sleep.
****
When Vega woke, the room was dark, and the house was quiet. The throbbing pain splicing through her head quickly cleared away the fog of sleep as she remembered Bill, angry and mean. She could still smell him on her clothing, a reeking mixture of drug sweat and alc
ohol. Disgusted to the point of wanting to vomit, she grabbed up her robe and crept across the room.
Her hand shook as she slid back the bolt and cracked open the door. Lights blazed down the hall, but silence prevailed. Cautiously, Vega snuck to the bathroom, silently praying Bill had passed out in a drunken stupor and lay dead to the world.
Inside the shower, she scrubbed her skin under scalding torrent of hot water until it was raw and red. The burning pain felt good, assuring her the taint of him touching her had been cleansed away. Still, as she leaned her head backward and shut her eyes to wash the shampoo from her hair, his glaring, bloodshot eyes and angry scowl lingered.
Head jerking downward and eyes springing open, Vega tried to shake the vision from her mind. Sadness and turmoil churned inside her, much like the soapy water swirling down the drain.
I need a weapon. Shouldn’t have come in here without something. I need my knife… I wish I had a gun.
Compelled by fear and left feeling vulnerable and unprotected against the man who had so blatantly threatened her, she fled the shower. Wrapped tightly in her robe, Vega stood next to the door, listening. The minutes ticked by, but the rapid beating of her heart and the ping of the pipes beneath the house were the only sounds.
Satisfied Bill was not lurking like a coiled snake somewhere in the darkness, she turned off the light and slipped out into the shadowy hall. Each step of her bare feet on the brittle carpet made her heart hammer against her head where he had hit her. Legs nearly buckling under the dizzying sickness clawing its way up her internal organs, Vega braced her hand against the wall and took a deep breath.
Deep breaths. You’re going to be o—
Arms encircled Vega’s waist, ripping her backward and upward as her feet kicked for purchase. The endless scream tearing its way from her throat echoed through the quiet house, shattering the night and her mind.
Her assailant carried her backward, but she couldn’t think enough to fight. She couldn’t form a plan. Wild instinct took over as her claws dug into the arms holding her, and her heels smashed against his shins. Each grunt of pain from her attacker fueled the insanity of her rage, and she fought that much harder.
Despite her manic attempts to break free, Bill held tight, flinging curses and threats with each step into the darkness. She wanted to scream out words, but they wouldn’t form. Instead, a high-pitched wail continued to erupt from her mouth until he tightened his arms like a vice, squeezing the air from her aching lungs.
In one disorienting motion, Bill flung her away from himself. Her body tumbled through the air and onto his bed, limbs flying out as if she were a rag doll. Vega gasped for breath as she tried to roll to her feet, but he caught her by the ankle and twisted hard. She kicked with her free foot, and her fingers dragged the covers with her as he pulled her helplessly toward him.
“Lay still! If you fight, I’ll make it hard on you.”
After slapping her hard across the face, Bill caught Vega’s hands and straddled her hips. The familiar stench of him pressing down on her, making her wretch.
“Quit acting like you don’t want it,” he mumbled as he tried to hold her and undo his pants.
Vega jerked her arms down and rammed her head up. The movement caught him off guard. Pain exploded like fireworks in her vision as her forehead slammed into his mouth. Bill released her hands, cursing through busted lips, and she tried to wriggle free of his weight. Adrenaline surged through her as she managed to scoot backward on the bed until the bulk of him rested on her knees. She tried kicking free, but Bill could not be deterred for long.
“Murderer. Tease. Whore. Bitch. Slut!” he screamed, trying to catch a hold of her hips and drag her back down.
Vega’s world lost solidity, and everything turned to flowing waves of pain and fear as the room spun and tumbled. The urge to fight still pushed her to struggle, but her strength faded a little more with each ineffective blow.
In a sudden moment of clarity, Vega saw what would become of her if she did not escape the mad man clawing at her flesh. Left on the bed— raped, beaten, and murdered—her glass eyes stared up at the ceiling as Bill raised his sweating body from hers.
She screamed and struggled harder in response, but his fist slammed into her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. Unable to breath, nearly paralyzed by terror and agony, her eyes fell on him kneeling between her legs, too drunk to even do this horrible act correctly.
Vega’s vision blurred, and in the blackness swelling up around her, she saw her future all too clear. The smear of Bill desecrating her flesh with a final thrust would send her plummeting into an endless hell. She would never leave that room alive, and that knowledge forced her mind to snap back from the place it had gone.
Zane! Help me! she screamed inside her head as she used her nails to dig into Bill’s wrists, denying him entrance.
As if in answer, the image of her mother’s gun lying in the bedside drawer popped into Vega’s mind. She threw her arm out, reaching for the nightstand as Bill finally managed to yank open his jeans. Panic pushed Vega to move faster.
Bill’s prying hands tried to pry her thighs apart, but she dug her heels into the bed as she bucked upward and squeezed her legs tight. Too drunk and obsessed to focus on anything above her waist, he never saw her hand stretching closer and closer to the drawer.
He repositioned his hold on her hips, and Vega managed to scoot another few inches. Fingers grazing the knob, she felt a shock of hope until another explosion of pain erupted through her legs.
Bill drove his knee into her muscles and pinched the inside of her legs with cruel and biting fingers. His words became half-formed threats to hit her again and nonsensical grunts as she struggled. Muscles weakened, Vega could not force them to resist any longer. Her strength gave out just as her fingers reached the edge of the drawer once more.
The old sliding mechanism groaned, and Bill’s head shot up as her fingers dipped inside. Frantically searching for the firearm, Vega continued to struggle against his hands and body, hoping it would distract him from what he must surely see.
It worked for a moment, but as soon as his eyes raised to her hand again, the dumbfounded look on his face faded into rage. Vega grabbed for the butt of the gun, but Bill jerked her to the side, and she missed the chrome-plated grip. Instead, her fingers wrapped around something small and cylinder shaped.
Bill grunted, pushing flat against her and trying to capture her hands as his weight pinned Vega to the bed. The repulsive scent of sweat, drugs, and anger mixed with the odor of his unwashed body filled her mouth and nose until she could no longer hold back the sickness washing out of her mouth.
Bill jerked back to avoid the vomit, and Vega thrust her hips upward, bucking wildly as she tried to knock him off balance. He struck her again, this time in the chest, and Vega’s cries ended in a rush of air. Still, she fought to survive. He’d succeed if she didn’t, and she couldn’t let that happen.
I will not die here. I cannot die here.
Vega raised her hands, meaning to claw at his face, and realized what she had pulled from the drawer. Her thumb touched the plunger on top, discovering it was up—which meant the needle was full. Without knowing if the barrel contained drugs, air, or even saline, she slammed the tip into Bill’s neck. The skin popped, protesting the violent intrusion, and she pressed down on the top to send the contents into his body.
“What the fu—?” Bill screamed as he jerked away.
Vega scrambled to the side, attempting to escape and completely unsure of what she had done. Just as she scurried toward the door, Bill’s fist caught her dark hair. A hard yank pulled her back, and she landed on the floor. Her scalp screamed with pain as the hair tore from its roots.
Bill leaned downward, a shadowed figure in the dark. “I’m going to kill you,” he whispered in a hoarse voice as he yanked her up. “But not before I make you suffer.”
“Bill, stop! Think about what you are doing. Please, don’t hurt me. Please, don’t
do this,” Vega begged, realizing her attempts to fight had not only failed, they’d made matters much worse. Her hands dug into the fabric of the cheap robe, holding it tight around her as she cried.
“I’ll kill…you. You…dumb—” Bill’s hand fell away as he stumbled, and his voice faded to nothing. A noise like he was choking but couldn’t open his mouth gurgled in his throat, and he fell.
Vega, free of the insane man, ran toward the door. Her fingers slipped on the metal knob, but on the third try she managed to fling it open. Then, like a light being turned on in the darkness, realization flooded her with the knowledge that she had won.
The sounds of Bill’s death both pushed her away and pulled her back, and she paused, eyes focused on the door. Gags and coughs erupted between moans behind her, and a sick curiosity overcame Vega’s instincts to flee. As if driven by some madness, her hand reached for the light switch.
The pitch dark vanished in an eruption of fluorescent light, showing Bill as he shook and jerked on the floor. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his teeth snapped together in a loud clicking noise, barely audible over the stuttering rasp coming from his throat.
I bet his throat is closing up. The swelling is choking him. He’s having a seizure from the drugs. This is an overdose, and the son-of-a-bitch is dying. Either he is going to bite off his own tongue or his throat is going to close up until he can’t breathe. Then he’ll choke on his own vomit and die.
Vega’s thoughts jumbled into hysterical images filled with glee— completely unlike when her mother had fallen. She hadn’t meant to hurt her mother, and though the woman had been cruel and abusive, Vega hadn’t wanted her to die. But Bill deserved to suffer. He deserved to die in a pool of his own vomit and piss. If she hadn’t killed him first, she would have never lived to see another day.
With slow and careful steps, Vega walked toward him. Some irrational part of her mind whispered he could be faking, but no one could fake what Bill’s body was doing. He’d been a con and liar, but something like this would be Academy Award worthy.
Death Eater Complete Collection Page 6