Chapter Thirty-Eight
Misty
Ten at night. I crack my neck and sigh. Inventory is finally done. And it was a great distraction from the jumble of thoughts and emotions in my brain.
Bernie’s having another sleepover with Carly, and I’m thankful for the time to myself. But now that I’m alone and have nothing else to focus on, I can’t help myself. My mind goes right back to thinking about Zep.
I need food. Real food. Food someone else makes for me. It’s dark out, and I’ve been told not to walk alone at night, but the Seven Crows isn’t far from the café. It has pizza and beer.
And probably Zep.
Even though I said we could be friends eventually, I know we’ll never just be friends. There won’t ever be a day I don’t want him, but I’m not willing to put myself out there just yet by going over to his place.
He hasn’t reached out since the whole debacle with Ben, and I hate where my mind takes that. The only thing I can settle on is that he wasn’t as into me as I thought. He got something he didn’t get with Chanel, but it wasn’t enough to make him stay.
“Maybe I can get the truth out if he just happens to be there when I am,” I mutter to myself as I walk along the sidewalk. “If a conversation happens when I’m waiting for my pizza, it’s not really me taking that first step.”
Yeah, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
Laughter and shouting over loud music fill the air as I get closer to the bar, and it calms me. Something to drown the thoughts in my head. Maybe I should try that tonight. Play really loud music to fall asleep to.
“Probably counterintuitive,” I say and chuckle to myself.
“Hey, pretty lady.”
I’m the only one out right now, and I turn to see an older man wearing a Venom kutte. And a president patch.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is not how I wanted to meet Butch. In fact, I hoped I never would.
“Hello,” I say, picking up my pace.
“You want a smoke?”
“I don’t smoke, thanks.”
Just as I’m almost past the alley beside the bar, his large hand grabs my wrist, forcing me to drop my purse. I try my hardest to pull it away, but I can’t. He’s strong, and he has no intention of letting me go.
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Please, just let me go. I’m only here for dinner,” I beg as I think about what he did to Zep’s mom.
Is this how he got her attention? Did she take the cigarette he offered, and then he attacked her? Or did she turn him down, and he didn’t like it?
“I’ll give you something to eat.”
The way he says it makes my blood run cold, and I know I’m in trouble.
“Help!” I scream out, but his hand covers my mouth and pulls me into the darkness.
His dirty, gross hand. It smells like grease, fast food, and sweaty balls. It makes me gag.
I’d been so close. So close to the door yet so far, and the stucco building scrapes my back as he slams me against it.
“Shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll shove my cock so far down your throat that you choke on it.”
What the hell do I do here? They always say that you should comply to save your life, but I don’t know that I can. I don’t know how I’ll get past this.
He releases my mouth, waiting a moment to see if I’ll scream or not. The small sliver of light from the street shows a smile across his weathered face, but his eyes shine with disappointment.
He wants me to fight.
“Good girl.”
Good girl. Two words have never sounded more sickening, and I try to determine my best option to get away. He’s heavier than me. And obviously stronger.
“Open your mouth.”
Fuck that. I clamp my mouth shut, and he slaps my face. When I still refuse to open up, he digs his fingers into my skin, pressing painfully along the joints of my jaw, trying to force me to open up. I hold strong, and he slaps me so hard that my head hits the wall.
“Open your fucking mouth!”
I refuse, and he grabs my mouth again. His fingers dig into my muscles, and tears appear as pain shoots down my neck. I wouldn’t put it past him to break my jaw, but I will not go down without a fight. Even if he breaks every bone in my body, I’m not giving in.
And this excites him. My fight makes him hard, which I find out when he takes my hand and rubs it along the fly of his dirty jeans. Everything about this man is grimy and gross, and I want to throw up.
“I love a fighter. It’s much more pleasurable to fuck the fight out of you,” he growls.
His breath smells of cigarettes, whiskey, and rotting teeth. It’s disgusting, and I can only imagine how little he cares about personal hygiene.
He wants me to say something. He’s trying to goad me. If I say something, I have to open my mouth. I’m not falling for it.
Kicking out a leg, he releases my face as I’m knocked to my knees with a hard landing on the cement. Small pebbles cut my knees, and I really wish I hadn’t worn a dress today. It’s too damn easy for him.
He unbuttons his jeans, his groin just inches from my face, and a sick smile spreads on his. “You have a choice. You can suck it, or I’ll fuck you so hard I’ll ruin you for every other man. Including my son.”
That’s what this is about. He wants to hurt Zep. And I know he’ll never forgive himself if Butch does this to me. I know that much about him.
Before he can free himself from his jeans, I punch him in the balls. The hand holding my wrist releases as he cups his junk, and I push myself up and run towards the bar. I just need to get inside.
“Help!” I scream out, praying someone happens to come outside and hears me.
All I need is someone to hear me.
“You bitch!” Butch shouts and grabs my ankle.
Falling forward, I scrape my face on the cement as I land and am pulled back. But I’m close. The light from the front of the building is in sight.
“Help!” I scream again, doing everything I can to crawl toward the lighted sidewalk.
Butch climbs on top of me and lifts a fist in the air. “I told you not to do that.”
He hits me hard in the eye, and I can’t breathe. It hurts more than I thought it would, and I’m stunned. Dazed. Which is a dangerous position to be in.
“I think you’ll suck it as well as get fucked,” he says in a husky tone that makes my skin crawl.
His body moves further up my chest, and he frees himself from his jeans. I slap at him. Scratch. Claw. Dig my nails into any piece of flesh that isn’t the disgusting dick just in front of my face.
I turn my head to the side and scream again. This can’t be happening. I can’t let this happen. There has to be something. Anything. God, please, let there be something.
Heavy footsteps come running, and I panic as I continue fighting him. Butch can’t get a good grasp on my hands to stop me from pushing him away, and I worry that the footsteps belong to another Venom member.
I may have just made a terrible mistake.