Chapter 9
Once I’m halfway down the hill, I break into a sprint. The movement makes my head pound, but my body is in fight-or-flight mode. I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot the row of houses with all the Halloween decorations. I shouldn’t be too far from the main road now.
I curse my wet clothes for slowing me down. I should’ve run away from the woods, not toward them. My pussy still aches from what he did. From what I let him do. And then I left him between the trees with my cum dripping down his chin.
He’s right. I hate that I crave the way he touches me. I hate that his voice and his words provoke me to do unspeakable things.
I glance back before shooting off a quick text to Cherry.
Hey. I’m a little lost, and I’m soaked through. Can you point me in the right direction? I’ll send you my location.
She responds seconds after I drop her a ping.
Girl, I’m passing by there now on my way to work. I’ll come get ya. Hang tight.
I want to protest. I’m not in the mood for small talk, but it’s freezing and my stomach is in knots.
So I send her a thumbs-up emoji instead.
I find an old bus stop at the bottom of the street and take shelter in it.
But I can’t shake the rush of what just happened.
Punk is still out there. Did he give up on hunting me?
Or is this just another one of his games to make me think I got away?
Within minutes, I hear the roaring exhaust of Cherry’s Mustang. A light spray of water dusts my face when she pulls up. Shivering, I scramble for the door and hop in.
She lifts an eyebrow as I slosh muddy leaves all over her leather passenger seat. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Hi. Um, nothing. I went for a walk and lost track of where I was,” I chatter out. “Thanks for the ride.”
She puckers her red lips around the long skinny cigarette, grinning as she takes a puff. “Of course. You and Gloria get into it?”
My breath hitches. “You’re either psychic or you know me better than I know myself.”
She chuckles. “Girl, you spent almost every weekend at my house. I know I’m fun as fuck, but you couldn’t wait to get away from her and Hank. That piece of shit.”
I cross my arms over my chest, shivering. “Why did I stab him?”
Cherry shakes her head as she flips on the heater. “You never told me. But I always thought he wasn’t acting very Christian-like, you know? There are only a couple of things that would make a young girl stab a man. I knew you had good reason. That he deserved it.”
A deep feeling of déjà vu washes over me. I glance at Cherry, and suddenly she’s much younger, her hair bright pink. She’s gripping the steering wheel with one hand and tipping a flask to her lips with the other. Bright lights from a Ferris wheel cast a glare on the windshield.
I gasp. “Did you drive us to the county fair once?”
Her eyes light up. “Once? The first time, we were fifteen. I stole my stepbrother’s car when he was passed out drunk. Do you… remember?”
I nod, my head spinning. The images are fuzzy, but they’re there. “I think so. You had pink hair.”
She laughs. “My daddy didn’t let me leave the house for a week. He told his entire congregation that I had the bird flu. Our neighbor, Miss Tilly, finally spotted me in the backyard and came over with a box of hair dye.”
I laugh back. “Yes! I told my mama that I must have the bird flu too, hoping she’d let us quarantine together, but she didn’t believe me.”
Cherry squeals in delight. “Roxy! You do remember!”
I close my eyes and lean back against the seat. I blow out a deep breath. “Yeah. Fuck.” I’m so happy I could cry. If I can get one memory back, then I can get them all. Maybe I will find myself again here. And then I can deal with Punk.
She squeezes my hand. “You wanna tell me about that skater boy who’s got you all wound up?”
My mouth drops open. “How do you know about him?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “It’s a small town, Rox. Everyone knows all about your famous and hot-as-fuck paramour.”
I look out the window and sigh. “It’s complicated. He’s dangerous. But when I’m with him, I feel more like myself.” I spot a neon-lit sign as the woods become a distant blip in the rearview. “You’re not taking me back to Mama’s, are you?”
She giggles. “Nah. Fuck that. It’s take your best friend to work day,” she teases. “I have an apartment above it where you can freshen up. You look like a fucking swamp witch right now.”
“Thanks,” I say through a chuckle. Relief washes over me. I don’t want to go back to that house yet. “Mama says you bought the arcade.”
She nods, her face beaming. “Yup. Level Up is all mine. Just like we talked about when we were kids. We play free for life. Time to reclaim your title, Little Miss Pinball Queen.”
I can’t help but wonder if muscle memory will kick in for that too. My body knew all the ways Punk would touch me. It was instinctual. I knew where his tongue was going to go next.
“Girl, what the fuck happened to you tonight? Your face is as red as my lipstick.” Cherry pulls into a parking spot in front of the arcade. It has her name scrawled across the pavement.
I contemplate admitting my shame, versus having someone to talk to about Punk. Cherry hasn’t judged me yet. “Have you ever been drawn to something so toxic that you can’t think of anything else?”
She bursts out laughing. “One day, when you get your memories back, you’re going to think back to this conversation and laugh your ass off too.
She lights up another cigarette. “Toxic is my middle name, babe. The problem with wanting what’s bad for you, is that when you’re in the middle of devouring it, it tastes so fucking good. ”
I shiver as I replay my previous encounters with Punk. I don’t know what’s worse, being with him, or without him. “What if I want another taste? What if I… crave it?”
She exhales smoke out her window. “Are you afraid of him?”
That’s the million dollar question. “No. Not really. I think I’m scared of what we had and living up to it.”
Cherry sighs as she stubs her butt into the ashtray. “Then allow yourself to indulge. Maybe it will help you remember. And then you can decide what you want to do. But you have to walk in the dark to find the light.”
I snort-laugh. “If the arcade business doesn’t work out, you could be a life coach.”
She flashes me a grin. “Nah. No one wants my fucked-up advice. I’ll stick to cleaning up after drunk gamer boys.”
We head inside, and I freeze when Cherry flips on the lights. The arcade games spring to life, a barrage of bright, neon colors and high-pitched sounds. My stomach knots, and I’m assaulted by another memory.
My back’s against a wall, a man is groping me. It’s unwanted. I can’t get away. A door bursts open, and a masked man barrels out. I make a run for it.
I grip the edge of the bar with sweaty palms.
Cherry raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
I nod as I try to will saliva back into my mouth. “I just remembered the first time I saw Punk. We were at an arcade bar like this one. He saved my life…”
She places a shot glass in front of me and fills it with tequila. “Drink. It will help your anxiety.”
I throw back the shot, and wince as it burns my throat. “Fuck. But why is my mama trying to keep us apart?”
Cherry pours me another. “Because Gloria is a spiteful woman who has always been jealous of your independence. She hates that you don’t care what people think. So, if you have something good with Punk, she will try to destroy it like she does everything else.”
My stomach knots, but the tequila is calming my nerves. “I don’t like her. That much I do know.”
Cherry nods. “You never have, Roxy. I knew you had to have lost your mind to end up living with her again. But now that you feel she can’t be trusted, be careful. You can always come stay with me if it gets really bad there.”
“You’re a good friend, Cherry. I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch before. I don’t know why, but I promise that it won’t happen again.” I slam another shot, this one going down much easier than the last.
She shrugs. “You and I have a complicated past too. But I never held a grudge. I was glad you got out. Crimson Valley is a joyless place where dreams come to die. We’re all on borrowed time here.”
Of that, I have no doubt.
But now that pieces of my own timeline are starting to come back, my longing for my old life is stronger than ever. I can almost taste it. It’s there, in my peripheral, waiting to be claimed. And I think Punk may be the only one who can help me do that.