Chapter 4
CADEN
Iwas in misery, but it was fine. Life was one godforsaken day after another, but I would continue on.
When I arrived in Westhaven two weeks ago, I found a shitty little motel on the edge of town close to the pier.
It was cheap, which meant it wasn’t that great, but it was a place for me to lay my head at night and take care of my wound.
It wasn’t doing that well, but I had no money for urgent care, and going to the hospital was too risky.
I found a job at a diner so I would be able to save up for urgent care without my room for my health.
My paranoia was skyrocketing along with my anxiety, the two mingling together like best friends while I was left panicking and terrified.
I needed my brain to get a grip on reality and focus on how serious the situation was.
I worked tomorrow, and I was going to pull a double to make enough to afford a trip to urgent care.
The drug store supplies I had didn’t help, or maybe working instead of resting was a bad idea.
It was hard to rest when I needed to survive.
Maybe in another life I could live cushy and take a rest day, but sadly, that was not the life I was granted.
I pulled an old hoodie over my head and walked out of my room. There was a new city waiting for me, but I wasn’t in good standing to mingle with the town folk right now. Instead, I opted for the pier. Which was odd, because I hated water. How could something so beautiful be deadly?
Water stole my brother’s life and destroyed my family, yet I found comfort in the gentle waves. It was a screaming contradiction. I wouldn’t go to the beach or swim, but I would dip my feet and listen to the tranquil crash of the waves until my mind betrayed me.
I walked to the pier, enjoying the fresh air that filled my lungs.
It was beautiful out here. Westhaven was nothing compared to New York for obvious reasons, but it wasn’t loud like the city was, which proved to be difficult.
In the city, I would be able to drown out the screaming in my head with the bustle of downtown, but here, alone, I was trapped, forced to embrace them.
Getting to the pier, I removed my socks and shoes, dipping my feet into the water.
There was peace, even if it was just for a moment.
I’d do this when I was off from Roadhouse, which wasn’t often.
I only had three days off in the two weeks I’d been here, but it was my choice.
I needed money, and there was no rest for the weary.
Since then, I had been paralyzed with nightmares that woke me from a dead sleep in a cold sweat.
I’d been jumpy and paranoid. Personally, I was surprised I could handle my job with all the men around, but so far, none of them have touched me.
They were horrible flirts, even seemed harmless, but I wouldn’t trust them.
I’ve been a champ at putting on a mask and hiding my emotions.
Even when I was cutting myself in middle school, I would pretend everything was okay when the teachers would ask or when someone would see my wrist. After my math teacher saw a cut peeking through my hoodie, she sent me to the counselor.
I lied, saying I cut myself on accident when playing with my dad’s razor because I was insecure about my dark arm hair.
She believed me, and I decided to move my cutting to my thighs.
When I started using sex as a coping mechanism at fourteen, I stopped cutting.
The temptation right now was high. To feel something other than the screaming in my head was like a raging fire in my belly, but I’d be strong, even if my mental health was absolute garbage.
When things got easier, and I saved up enough money, I was going to do the responsible thing and go to therapy—spill my guts to a complete stranger and not use sex to deflect.
I had a chance at a new life, a new beginning, and the first thing I needed to focus on was my mental health.
Keeping everything bottled up inside was a recipe for disaster.
Everyone healed differently, just like everyone handled their trauma differently.
My life had been a giant ball of trauma after my brother drowned and my mother abandoned my father and me.
This was just the cherry on fucking top.
I pulled out my new phone and opened Chrome.
I knew my father couldn’t find me because I ditched my old iPhone in Jersey.
Paranoia was my best friend with the constant fear that my father or the Born Killerz would find me.
I probably had a better chance against an entire gang than my father.
He would make my life even more of a living hell if he found me and punished me for running.
Knowing him, he’d arrest me for obstruction or evading the police.
I typed my name into the browser, but the only things I found were articles about my death.
It looked like he didn’t tell anyone else I was indeed alive and feigning well.He was happily sucking up the attention of acting as the grieving father passionately searching for justice for his daughter.
Dominic wasn’t in custody, which meant he could find me too.
That definitely didn’t help calm the panic in my chest. I couldn’t bear to experience any more pain or agony.
There weren’t any reports on the Born Killerz, which meant nothing to me.
They lost their leader, and I knew they wanted revenge.
Maybe they would find my father and it would end all my problems. A pang of guilt washed through me.
Was it horrible of me to wish for my father’s death when he saved me?
One night didn’t make up for a lifetime of neglect and abuse.
When the sun started to set, I pulled my feet from the water and kicked them dry.
I already took risks walking home late at night from my job.
Since my assault, I’d been hesitant a lot.
I hated walking alone at night, but there wasn’t much choice.
I would be back before the sun set tonight, but work was different.
Roadhouse wasn’t far from the motel, maybe a ten minute walk, but a lot could happen in ten minutes.
After what Liam and Dominic did to me, I was on high alert, jumping at every little noise and flinching when a man raised his voice slightly.
Why I decided to work at this shithole instead of venturing out, I didn’t know, but Ricky hired me instantly.
I did however have to beg the greasy man, and I was sure he enjoyed it way too much, but I needed the money before the hotel manager kicked me out.
I needed food and medical supplies too. I had enough medical experience to know what would happen if I got a blood infection.
No one knew I was here, so if I died in that hotel room, the manager wouldn’t look for me until it was time for another weekly payment.
My stomach screamed in agony as I walked down the street. I was not healing as gracefully as I needed to, but to survive, I needed money. And to get money, I had to work. My father’s voice lived rent free in my head. Little did he know he was the reason for all of this.
Fucking bastard.
I was finally back in my room with the door locked, and I took a deep, shaky breath.
The bathroom sink was in front of the door, and I saw how horrible I looked in the mirror.
Trauma, stress, and exhaustion sure took a lot out of a person, but it was my life.
It wouldn’t be this way forever. I didn’t know how, but I would change the path I was on and be the woman I was meant to be.
I just needed to figure out how to get up from rock bottom and swim to the top once more.