Sierra
Chapter twenty-eight
Just as I hit the floor, something slams into my spine, followed by a kick to my stomach that knocks me over onto my back. I cry out in pain, just before a calloused, greasy hand clamps over my mouth, stifling my screams.
“Scream again and I’ll fucking gut you, bitch!” A harsh male voice whispers into my ear, just as Aunt Sarah steps into my eyesight, her hair frazzled and eyes wide.
“Toss her ass on the couch. I want to talk to her, James.” Her voice high and squeaky. Scrutinizing her more closely, I see her eyes glazed over like she’s high on something.
James, as my aunt called him, removes his hand from my mouth, then grips a fistful of my hair and drags me across the room, as Sarah shuts the front door.
My head is pounding and I want to scream, but his threat of gutting me keeps me quiet. Knowing that Sam is not here and safe is what’s keeping me sane.
“Where’s the fucking money, Sierra?” she snaps as she lunges at me, her hand coming out, slapping my face, the sting radiating across my cheek.
“What money?” I cry out.
“Don’t fucking play dumb with me. I know you make good money showing your body to those men in the club. Now give it to me.” This time it’s her fist that makes contact with my jaw, hitting me so hard I fall off the couch, and my head cracks the side of the coffee table, as stars dance in my vision.
“I don’t have any!” I lie, trying to sound convincing, desperate to not give her any more of the money Sam and I need so badly.
James uses that one moment of sass toward my aunt as an excuse to rear his foot back and kick me in the stomach repeatedly, to the point I can’t even catch my breath before he finally lets up.
Sarah kneels down beside me, punching me in the face again. “Really, Sierra, make this easy on yourself. I’m not leaving without the money. I know Sam’s upstairs with the old coot. Don’t make me go there next.” Her voice is sinister and void of emotion.
“It’s in the closet, on the floor, pushed to the back in a shoebox,” I croak out. Speaking sends pain ricocheting through my face. He must have caught my nose too, as drops of blood land on my hand.
“Handle her, James, teach my cunt ass niece why next time she should tell us what we want to know right away. I’m going to go get the money, so we can meet up with LJ.” Her voice gets fainter as she heads down the hallway to my room, taking all the dreams of Sam’s and my future with her.
Kneeling down beside me, I feel his hot breath on my face as the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and decay assaults my senses.
“I love a girl who puts up a fight. Lucky for you, I love my cock, so I can’t fuck you.
But destroying this beautiful body of yours in so many ways is going to get me rock-hard.
Maybe after I ditch your fucking aunt, I’ll be back to get a taste of you,” he slurs into my ear before licking up my neck.
A burst of energy to fight back takes over, and my limbs begin to flail. I kick my legs and throw my arms out, pushing away from him, but he manages to pin me on the ground. Climbing on top of me and straddling my waist, he pins my hands above my head.
“Yeah, bitch, just like that,” he begins to hump my crotch, the hardness of his dick pushing into my body and I gag.
Get it together, Sierra, keep fighting!
I keep struggling under him, trying not to pay attention to how much my squirming is turning him on until I’m able to break a hand free.
Reaching out, I claw at his face, scratching down the side of it, taking the top layer of his flesh with me.
If I die here tonight, I’m going to make sure they have some way to find out who my killer was.
“Fucking bitch!” he growls out as his fist comes down right between my eyes. The room spins and my vision goes black.
But that was just the first hit. He grabs my head with one hand around my temple and slams it onto the floor repeatedly. I lose track of how many times. The splintering pain ricocheting through my head prevents me from speaking, just as my body heaves and vomits all over the floor.
“Got it,” my aunt croons gleefully as she enters back into the room, waving it in the air like it’s a prize.
I hear her feet scuffle against the floor as she slides to a halt.
“That’s disgusting, hurry up so we can go.
I don’t want her getting up for a long time.
She needs to learn her money is mine whenever the fuck I want it. ”
“Fuck, babe. I love when you talk like that.” I feel the weight of his body lift off of mine, and a small sliver of hope courses through me that he’s done.
But when the heel of his boot slams down into my stomach, that hope fades into the background. He continues to kick my side until the nasally whiny voice of Sarah calls out to him.
“James, enough. Let’s go. He said he wouldn’t wait long for us.”
“Coming, babe, just one more for the road.” His evil laugh echoes through the room.
“Fine, and Sierra, I’ll be back for more money!”
I brace myself for a kick to my stomach again or a punch to my face. But what I don’t expect is for him to drop his knee down right into my crotch. Once he stands back up, I roll over and curl up into a ball. The tears break free when I hear the front door slam. I’m alive.
As much as I want to get up, I can’t. All I can do is pray for a better future for Sam. Maybe calling our caseworker and telling her everything is for the best. They would separate us, but she would be safe from Sarah. That’s what’s important.
I lie there, crying, until darkness comes, and I slip off into sleep. One I may not wake from.
Bright rays of sunlight stream through the break in the curtains, hitting my face. Waking up, I crack my eyes open, trying to make sense of what happened. The stench of vomit fills my nose before the pain hits, shooting through my body.
I try to move, but my body screams out for me not to.
Looking to my right, I see the puddle of puke and gag, but I fight to keep what little I have left down.
I can’t let Sam see me like this. Rolling over to my hands and knees, I use all the energy I have left and pull myself up onto the couch.
Crying out in pain with every movement. Once I’m seated, I see my bag with everything inside of it emptied onto the couch.
My aunt took every single dime I earned in tips last night. Why didn’t I put it in the secret slot at the bottom with my phone? I’d kick myself in the gut for it if it hadn’t already happened numerous times within the last what, maybe six hours.
Pulling my purse over, I reach inside and take out the phone. She must really have only been interested in the cash to not search further. I quickly dial Mrs. Butler’s number; I need to let her know what happened.
It rings once, twice, three times. I just about give up when she answers, out of breath, “Hello!”
“Mrs. Butler, is Sam awake?” My voice cracks, as I try to hold back not only the tears, but my pain.
“Sierra, are you okay? I thought you’d still be asleep, sweetie. Sam’s sitting at the table, getting ready to eat. We made biscuits and gravy. That's what took me a minute to get to the phone. Did you want her to come downstairs?”
“No,” I practically scream into the phone. “Could you have her wait there and you come down here? I need to talk to you.”
The line goes silent, and I can hear her murmur something to Sam, almost like she put her hand over the phone. Her breathing is a little labored and I assume she’s moving away from Sam. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Can you please come without Sam?” I get out before I break down, sobbing.
“I’ll be right there,” she rushes out, and the line goes dead. She must have run down the stairs because just a few minutes later, she’s barreling through the door, gun in hand.
When she sees my broken form on the couch, her eyes go wide with rage. She rushes over to me, setting the gun down on the floor, barely missing the vomit. “Oh my goodness, what happened? Did this happen at that club?”
“No,” I tell her before spilling all the details of what happened last night.
She takes a deep breath and looks at me seriously. “I want to kill that good for nothing aunt of yours. We need to get you to the doctor.”
“Nooo!” I scream out in fear. “I can't. They'll have questions, ones I don’t have an answer for. I can’t let them take Sam from me. Not when I’m so close to being old enough to legally petition the court for her. I’ll be okay. I just need some help cleaning up.”
She looks at me, her eyes full of love and warmth, begging me to change my mind, but I can’t. “Then you’re coming upstairs with me.”
“No, if Sam sees me, she’ll be worried. I hate to ask, but can Sam stay with you for at least a few days?” I beg, as I shift my body and clench my teeth in pain.
“I don’t like leaving you here alone, Sierra. You look like you can barely move.”
“Mrs. Butler, please? Just help me clean up and then get to bed, or hell, even make me a bed here on the couch and I’ll be okay. I promise, I just need a little time to rest and for Sam not to worry, or not to come home. She needs to just be a kid.” I’d pout, but it hurts my face too fucking much.
“Fine, I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it. Let me get this cleaned up, then you and I’ll go pack her some clothes.” She stands up, mumbling under her breath about how stubborn I am and how I’m going to be the death of her.
She’s only gone a couple of minutes. I hear her opening and closing drawers, then the water running.
When she returns, she hands me some pills.
“Take these.” She drops them into my hand and I willingly comply.
Once I’ve put them in my mouth, she takes the glass of water with a straw in it, and sticks it to my lips, allowing me to swallow down the pills.
The cool liquid soothes my sore throat just a little.
She sets the glass on the floor before flipping over the coffee table and setting it upright.
How it survived the chaos of last night, I’ll never know.
Her gasp draws my attention back to her, her eyes focused on the dried-up blood on the corner.
She glances back and forth between my face and it, as realization dawns on her.
Picking up the glass, she puts it on the table before rushing off to the kitchen.
She returns with rags, a bucket of water, and some cleaner and starts scrubbing up the mess on the floor.
While she flits around the house, I lie there on the couch, trying not to move a muscle. Mrs. Butler finally reappears with a bowl of water, a washcloth, and some soap, as well as a change of clothes. “You think you can make it to the shower?” she asks, her eyes full of concern.
“Honestly, no. I just want to lay here and rest a little longer.”
She looks at me for a moment, her mouth opening and closing before setting everything on the coffee table and heading back down the hallway toward my room.
When she comes back, she has pillows, a sheet, and a blanket in her arms, setting everything down on the other end of the couch from where I’m at.
“Okay then, sit up carefully and I’m going to clean your face up and see what I can do about some of the… umm… scratches.”
Doing as she says, I move slowly. Every movement makes me feel like I’m dying.
She dips the rag into the water, rings it out, and lifts it to my face, gently cleaning it, but with every touch, my body jumps in pain.
It doesn’t escape me when the tears begin to fall from her eyes and slide down her cheeks.
We do this dance. The one where she ignores my jerking movements, and obvious display of pain, while I disregard her tears.
“Okay, sweetie, I need to help you out of these clothes and put some pajamas on you. I found one of your t-shirt dresses and thought that would be more comfortable. Do you need to use the restroom?”
It isn’t until she says something I realize how badly I need to pee.
“Yeah, I do.” She tries to help me up, but I don’t want to put my weight on her, afraid that we both will fall, and she’ll end up hurt.
Somehow we make it to the bathroom and she helps pull down my pants and undies, helping me sit on the toilet before giving me some privacy to do my business.
What I’m not expecting is the intense pain when I piss.
“I’m done,” I call out. Stepping out of the pants on the floor, I push them to the side with my foot, fully intending to throw them in the trash.
Mrs. Butler steps back inside and her eyes drop to my bare legs, mottled in dark black and purple bruises. Pulling my shirt over my head, much of the same is on my stomach and side, along with redness and swelling.
“My goodness. Oh, Sierra, what did that bitch of a woman do to you?” She gasps.
“It was actually James, her man of the night.” I try to laugh, to ease the tension in the room, but it doesn’t go over well, and she glares at me.
She bends down, as best she can, and helps my legs through the holes in my panties, before slipping the dress over my head. “Okay, let's get you up and on the couch.”
We move slowly, both for her and myself.
Each tiny movement causes extreme pain. Stepping back into the living room, I see she took the time while I was in the bathroom to make the couch up.
Guiding me over to it, she helps me sit down and lie back.
“Here’s a few frozen bags of veggies, for you to put on your stomach, pelvic area, and face.
I’ll take Sam out later and we’ll pick up some cold packs so that you can switch them out… ” I cut her off before she can finish.
“No, I don’t have any money. Sarah took everything I had.”
“I don’t care. My money is yours right now.
And you need it, especially since your stubborn ass won’t go to the doctor.
I have a mind to just turn you in myself to get you out of this situation.
I put the bottle of pain reliever on the table with your water, and here’s your phone.
The charger was in your bag so I got it and plugged it into the outlet.
I’ve got to go check on Sam, but I’ll tell her you’re sick and don’t want her to catch it.
I’m also going to call the school tomorrow morning and let them know you’ll be out because you have the flu and ask them to get your assignments together. ”
“Thank you,” I whisper, tears forming in my eyes.
She leans down, pushes the hair back from my face, and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
Closing my eyes, and taking a deep breath, I hear her footsteps as she makes her way to the door, the clicking of the lock telling me she’s gone. It’s only then I fully break down.