The Scars Of Life (The Working Girls Book 4)

by K. L. Humphreys

  Just as I take a bite of my chicken salad sandwich, a voice calls out and my head turns to the door. “You’re eating, and you’ve had a shower, that’s a good sign, how are you feeling?” Penelope asks walking into the room and staring at me, a cup in her hand.

  “I’m better, thank you. How are you?” Yes, I’m warming to the woman, how can I not? She’s done a lot for me in the five days I’ve been here, a hell of a lot more than anyone has done for me in over seven years.

  “I’m good thank you, I’m glad that you’re up and on your feet.” She sits down beside me on the sofa and places her cup on the table. “Have you thought about my proposition?”

  I give her a look. “Penelope, I’ve thought of nothing else, just as you had hoped.”

  She smirks. “Well of course that’s what I wanted. You’re vulnerable on the streets, working for me will take away that vulnerability.”

  “But what do you get out of it?” She looks at me as though I’m crazy. “Look Penelope, you have to be getting something out of this, why else would you be helping me?”

  She sighs heavily. “I understand that you’ve been hurt. I’ve seen what that man did to you, but not everyone is out for something.”

  “You understand nothing,” I fire at her. “How dare you act as though you know me? Don’t sit there and pretend that you can fathom what I’ve been through. You have no idea about me, about what has happened to me. I won’t expect someone like you to comprehend what people like me go through.”

  “Then tell me.” She presses her fingers to her temples and it’s as though I’m being scalded.

  “No, what’s happened has happened and it doesn’t need to be brought up. The past stays where it is. Buried.” I go back to eating, not wanting to talk any more. I don’t trust Penelope, my gut’s telling me she’s up to something. I’d rather she be upfront about it, nothing worse than a liar. Well there is, a paedophile rapist. Penelope hiding whatever her agenda is, is making me want to run.

  She opens her mouth to say something, no doubt some stupid remark but stops herself. Instead she taps her foot, she looks annoyed. “Fine, there’s one stipulation to you working for me,”

  I bloody knew it!

  “You’re not allowed to sleep with the clients.” She has a resigned look on her face. “Listen to me,” she says just as I open my mouth to argue. “I didn’t want to say anything yet, my main priority is getting you back to full health, look at you, you’re in pain constantly. Anytime you move, you get a little furrow in your brows where you’re trying to hide the fact you’re hurting.”

  “I don’t care.” I’m fuming, I knew she was up to something, I fucking knew she wanted something, or that there would be some stupid rule I had to abide by.

  Rising to her feet, her face red, she glares at me. “You bloody well should care. You could die out on the streets.”

  I shoot to my feet, mad that she thinks I haven’t thought about this constantly. “Yes, I could die on the streets. What the fuck do you think I’m out on them for? Shits and giggles? I’m not naive, I’m not stupid, I’ve seen what happens on the streets. I’ve stared at someone as they’ve overdosed, too young to comprehend what was happening to them. Then there was the time someone was savagely beaten to death over a fucking apple. There are evil people in the world Penelope and I’ve had the misfortune of witnessing all the worst things that happen on the streets first hand.” My breathing’s heavy, I’m raging at her right now that along with the pain I’m in is making me want to slap her silly.

  “You’ve observed the worst of the worst on those streets, so why the hell are you working them?” I’m not the only one angry, I don’t understand why she’s so mad. “Why would you put yourself in that sort of danger? Why not just go home?”

  I’ve had enough. “Because I didn’t want to be raped again!” I scream at the top of my lungs and cringe with the pain.

  Shit, fuck. She has tears in her eyes, it’s time for me to go. I can’t stay here, I wait as the pity forms in her eyes and I can’t take it, I don’t need pity. “Forget what I said, it’s time for me to go. Thank you for letting me stay.”

  Shaking her head, she gets in my face, further pissing me off. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to finish that sandwich, climb into bed, and finish recuperating. We will have this discussion another time, right now, you need to get better.” Gone is her anger, she acts as though she really does care about me, funny, I’ve been with her for five days and yet she has no idea what my name is. “Will you please wait here for a couple of weeks, once you’re recuperated, we’ll talk about this again?” She asks softly, her eyes pleading with me.

  I nod. “I’ll stay here for a few more weeks but if you want me to work for you, then I’m going to sleep with the clients. If you can’t agree to that, that’s fine, I’ll be out of your hair once I’m able.”

  “You’re serious?” She asks in disbelief. “You want to keep sleeping with men? Even though you could make a decent living by not having to?”

  “Deadly serious.”

  She stares at me, neither of us blinking. I get what she’s proposing is something I shouldn’t turn down but I’m a working girl for a reason. I won’t back down on this, I can’t back down.

  “Fine, fuck,” she curses looking at me with narrowed eyes. “Fine, you can sleep with the bloody clients, if that’s what it takes to keep you off of those fucking streets then so be it. But mark my words young lady, we will be having a conversation and you will be spilling your guts. I’ll be finding out every scrap of information about you, I want to understand why you want to do this when I’ve given you an out.”

  She turns and leaves, she gets as far as the door before she stops, she looks over her shoulder at me, sadness in her eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, things you should never have been through. No one is going to hurt you again, that I promise you. Just be truthful with me and I’ll be truthful with you. Finish eating and get some sleep.”

  “Natalie,” I tell her, and she frowns. “My name is Natalie.”

  Her smile transforms her face into a thing of beauty. She walks back over to me, sticking out her hand as she does so. “Natalie, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I grip her hand and shake.

  “There’s a phone there, it’s programmed with my number in it, ring me if you need me, okay?”

  “I will and thank you.” I really mean that, she could easily have said fuck off to me sleeping with the clients and said it’s her way or the highway, but she didn’t, and for that I respect her. She wants me off the streets and in doing so she’s giving into my demands.

  “Get some rest. I’ll be back later on.” Releasing my hand, she leaves. Her heels click against the tiled floor as she walks through the hallway.

  I look at the laptop and phone on the side table, I’ve never had a phone before. My stepdad didn’t want me having one, he never gave any reasons as to why I couldn’t have one. I ignore them and sit back down to finish eating. I demolish the sanwich in no time, wishing that there was something more to eat, I hope when Penelope comes back, she brings some more food, my appetite must be coming back.

  Climbing into bed I grab the laptop and turn it on. There’s something that I want to check, something that I’ve put off for a long time. As soon as it loads up, I realise that it’s connected to the internet, perfect. Opening up Google I type in the name Terry Martins and hit enter. Tears spring to my eyes when I spot the top link, clicking on it I’m immediately drawn to a picture of me when I was thirteen, it’s a picture taken from when I was at school. Looking at myself, I look so young and so scared. A lot has changed since then, I’m a different person to who I was back then. There was hope in my eyes, now, I don’t believe in being hopeful.

  The sick bastard has been looking for me, there’s article after article of him searching for me. Hasn’t he caused me enough pain, he’s such a sick fucker. There’s a link to a Facebook post, I don’t have an account, so I set one up.
Once I have it set up, I follow the link to the post and read the comments. Most say that they hope he finds me and that they hope I’m alive and well. Others on the other hand are wondering why a fourteen-year-old girl would run away, what caused me to do it four years after my mother’s death. They realise something doesn’t add up, something doesn’t sit true with his story.

  I’m sickened by the fact that my stepdad is looking for me, he’s claiming that I never dealt with the death of my mother and lashed out, of course my old teachers agreed with him that I did indeed change. Who the hell wouldn’t change when they’re being molested daily? I mean, no one was there for me to talk to, no one I could turn to and confide in. I was alone and dealing with something I had no way of escaping. I had no idea how to act, all I knew was what he was doing was wrong and no matter how much I begged him to stop he wouldn't. I became a shell of myself and no one was there to help me. I had no friends, I’d distanced myself from them when he began to molest me. I was too dirty to allow anyone to get close, to be tainted.

  I read comments from people who I’ve never met or spoken to; they write that I should have been disciplined, that if I had been then I wouldn’t have run away. That I need a good hiding; if I had one then I’d be still at home and not on the streets. Someone actually writes that maybe I’d get what’s coming to me living on the streets, that I shouldn’t have ran away from such a loving father. That some people don’t have a father in their lives and here I had one that wanted me, and I ran away. That I’m selfish, that my stepfather deserves to have a child that loves him as much as he loves them. They have no idea just how much my stepdad wanted to be loved by me.

  I close the laptop and throw it to the side, I don’t want to read any more of that shit. I can’t believe that he’s still searching for me, it was last updated only a couple of days ago; he’s never going to give up. I’m just going to have to be even more careful. I’ll talk to Penelope, she may have a way of helping me stay hidden.

  Chapter 5

  Once I woke up from my nap I felt as though I was back to my old self. I’m still not a hundred percent right, but I’m getting there. Coming here with Penelope and recuperating is exactly what I needed. I’ll forever be grateful to her for doing this for me, she had no idea who I was or what I was capable of and yet she has gone out of her way to ensure that I’m safe and recuperating. She’s brought me some clothes: jeans, T-shirts, leggings, bras, and knickers. I’ve never had so many clothes before, I dress in leggings and one of the baggy T-shirts she brought, they’re so comfortable that I think leggings may become my go-to after work, before work wear.

  I decide to explore this massive house that I’m staying in, it’s amazing, everything is so sleek and modern, and tidy, God, there isn’t a speck of dust anywhere. There’s no doubt in my mind that Penelope isn’t the one to do the cleaning, so she must hire a company, she’d need at least a dozen cleaners to clean that castle of hers. This house is split into two by the looks of things, as there’s an upstairs but I don’t have access to it and I wonder if Penelope owns that too, if she does, does one of her employees live there? I walk into the kitchen and I’m surprised by the decor, throughout this entire house is wooden floors and beige walls but this kitchen, is bright yellow with lino on the floor. It looks so out of place and to be honest it looks hideous, something I wouldn’t have in my house if I owned it and I’m curious as to why Penelope has it like this.

  Noticing there’s a note on the counter, my fingers touch the corners, picking it up I glance at the name at the bottom, it’s from Penelope.

  Natalie,

  There’s food in the fridge and in the cupboards, help yourself.

  I’ll be back this evening and we’ll have a chat, I’ll even get us dinner.

  Your safety and health is paramount and is my main concern. I will not force you to do anything you don’t want to do.

  See you tonight.

  Penelope.

  Things like this have me torn, I want to stay but at the same time, I want to run and get as far away as humanly possible. I can’t help but think that she’s trying to be a mother to me, like I’m some sort of substitute daughter. Losing a child is something that I don’t think you can ever get over, there’s something about her that I like. Even if she’s a pushy cow, sometimes pushy works.

  I rummage through the cupboards, I come across teabags and pour myself a cup of tea, grabbing the packet of custard creams from the shelf I make my way into the sitting room and settle myself onto the sofa. Turning on the telly I have no idea what’s on, but I leave it on and start digging into the biscuits. I stare aimlessly at the telly as I flick through the channels before I settle on something decent.

  Darkness settles in the room and I flick the switch for the lamp beside me and the room lights up, the creaking of the door opening is followed by the sound of high heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Hey Penelope,” I call out, not even turning to greet her.

  She walks into the sitting room and takes a seat opposite me placing her handbag on the floor, a smile gracing her face. “You look better, I’m glad that you’re up and about.”

  “You’re telling me! I hate being laid up,” I tell her and she smirks. “No pun intended.” I roll my eyes as her smirk turns into a smile, she’s such a child.

  “How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?” She crosses her legs and leans back in her chair. “Do you need the doctor to come back?” Worry etched on her face, like it has been every time she’s come to visit me.

  “The pain is easing up thankfully. I’m fine, I don’t need the doctor. Thank you, Penelope, for everything that you’ve done for me.” I adjust myself on the sofa and instantly regret it as pain bursts through my ribs. They’re taking ages to heal and it’s really pissing me off.

  “Hmm, seems like it. Did you get my note?” I nod. “Good, I meant what I wrote, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. My main focus is making sure that you’re safe. For me to be able to do that, I’m going to ask you to tell me everything that’s happened.”

  I shake my head, I’m not going there, Penelope leans forward in her chair, her hands clasped together. “Okay, you don’t want to go into details, why would you, you don’t know me. So how about you ask me a question and then I ask you one?” She’s desperate for answers that’s for sure.

  I narrow my eyes. “I can ask you anything I want?” She nods, her mouth tightening as she does. “And you have to answer.”

  A heavy sigh escapes her. “Yes, you can ask me anything and I have to answer truthfully. Just as you will.”

  “Fine, who goes first?” Dread instantly sets in as I ask her, because no doubt there will be some tough questions that both of us will be answering and that gives me a little relief that I won’t be alone in this torture.

  “You can ask me first. I’ll be an open book, but Natalie, whatever is said between us must stay between us. Do you understand? I’m a very private person and I’d like to keep it that way.” Her tone is firm, she’s not messing around, she looks as though she’s dreading this as much as I am.

  I understand about being a private person. There isn’t one person on this earth that actually knows me, and that was the way I had wanted it, but today I guess that’s going to change. “Good, I wouldn’t tell anyone, not that I have anyone to tell anyway. But I don’t understand why you’re doing this?”

  She looks resigned. “I’ve told you, because I want to ensure that you’re safe. So, ask your question.”

  “Are you helping me as a way of trying to replace your daughter?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I shouldn’t have said them, no matter how much I may think that, it should have stayed unasked.

  Her face pales as her mouth drops open in shock. “God no. Natalie, Annalisa can never be replaced, and I would never want to even try.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, her pain so clear for me to see, I hate that I’ve upset her.

  “Don’t apolo
gise, you asked me a question you believed was happening and I’ve now given you my answer. It’s over, okay?” I nod, grateful for her easy forgiveness. “Okay, how old were you when you were raped?”

  A lump forms in the base of my throat, I try to swallow it down so that I can get the words out. “Fourteen.”

  Tears form in her horrified eyes. “God Natalie, I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head. “It wasn’t your fault, there’s no need for you to apologise, and call me Nat.”

  I get a watery smile for that.

  “My turn,” I tell her, wanting to get these questions over and done with as quickly as possible. “How did your daughter die?”

  “Annalisa died of a drug overdose. She was barely sixteen when she died. It was my ex-husband’s fault” The anger in her voice shocks me, I’m not sure if it’s the hate she has for her ex or the anger she has over the death of her daughter, or a mixture of the two.

  I have no idea what to say to her, there’s nothing to ease the pain she’s in, so I stay silent, not wanting to make things harder than they already are.

  “Okay Natalie, something lighter for the moment. How old are you?” She has tears swimming in her eyes but she’s not letting them fall, she’s strong that’s for sure. She can hold back her emotions, something that’s taken me a while to learn and even now I haven’t mastered it.

  “Seventeen.” Her gasp tells me that’s not what she was expecting, I’m not in the mood for a lecture so I fire a question back at her. “How old are you?”

  She raises her brow, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the swift change in direction or by my question. “I’m thirty-six, I had Annalisa when I was sixteen.” She’s giving me more with each answer than I’ve been asking. “Who was it that raped you?” Her voice has taken on a dark tone.