Chapter 25 #2
Regan shoved me against the wall and pressed himself against me. The bulge digging into my thigh churned my stomach. I chose my next words carefully, knowing what would happen, but desperate for a break from the beatings nonetheless.
“T-Tell me about the night in the hotel,” I choked. Blood bubbled out of my mouth, dripping down my chin.
A deep, growling chuckle vibrated up from Regan’s throat. His red roots were growing in where he’d dyed his hair. Months of nothing but drinking had rounded out his gut. At least when he was working, he wouldn’t drink on the job. We didn’t have that luxury now.
“You’d like to know how I pulled that off, wouldn’t you?”
I just had to keep him talking. If he wanted to brag, he’d need me conscious to hear it. I choked out the best fake laugh I could. “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure it out,” I lied. “Who was he?”
Regan’s grip loosened on my collar, but I was prepared. My feet hit the floor, and I wobbled on unsteady legs. My head was swimming. I could feel unconsciousness pulling at the corners of my brain, but I fought it. An evil smile split Regan’s lips.
“Funny enough, I bailed him out two years ago for spiking drinks at a college bar. I caught him breaking probation, and I covered it up for him. He owed me, and the high he got from that night was worth the time he’ll serve for it.”
I coughed against a wave of nausea. Regan leaned against the wall across from me, amused at what he’d accomplished.
I spat. “What about that baby?”
The fucker smiled. He was proud of it. “That was just a happy accident.”
“You’re disgusting.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think twice about them.
“You little bitch!”
His fist connected with my jaw and with a sickening crack, I crashed to the floor.
I covered my head, but he still hit where it hurt.
His steel-toed boot found my kidneys, and I cried out.
It hurt so bad I could barely breathe. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks.
My arms fell away from my face, and he set his sights on my jaw, my nose.
With each blow he called me a name, but it wasn’t long before he ran out of words to say.
He rested against the wall, hands on his knees and working for each breath.
I guess months of eating junk food and drinking around the clock made him lose his figure.
It didn’t matter if he was going to hit me again for simply moving. I rolled onto all fours, vomiting onto the dingy carpet. Blood and bile burned its way through, pooling beneath me.
“You liked that didn’t you?” Regan said, breathless. “I mean, that’s the only explanation I can come up with as to why you keep pushing me. You like what I do to you. You enjoy winding me up. You’ve done this all on purpose.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I muttered, too far gone to even chastise myself for it.
Regan threw his long leg across the narrow space and kicked the breath right out of me. I tried inhaling, but it was in vain. Collapsing onto my side, my lungs burned for oxygen. Regan lunged across the hall and knelt next to me. “Smart talk me again, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”
It wouldn’t have taken much to knock me over, but Regan shoved me anyway, sending me tumbling into the wall behind me. I hit my head, and warm blood trickled down the back of my neck.
“You pathetic, sniveling little bitch,” Regan snapped, walking away, voice raising as he disappeared around the corner. “You always were a whiner. I don’t know why I expected that to change. I think Sugar Daddy was too soft on you. You need to be put in your place every once in a while.”
Slowly, my lungs remembered how to function, but I didn’t dare move. When Regan returned, he had a glass of scotch in his hand. He slid down the wall in front of me and sat on the floor, taking a sip of the amber liquid.
“What did I do to deserve this?” I croaked.
Regan only scoffed. “Baby boy… If I can’t have you, no one can.”
This is it. He’s going to kill me this time.
Despite my current state, Regan made me scrub the floor clean. The smell of the bleach made me gag again.
“Go ahead,” Regan said, leaning in close to my face. The alcohol on his breath made my eyes burn. “There’s plenty of bleach for you to work with.”
While I cleaned, Regan drank. I knew he’d built up a tolerance over the years, but I still hoped that each refill would be the one to knock him out. It’d only happened a couple times, but I learned to welcome those quiet moments. Unfortunately, it seemed like it wouldn’t happen that night.
When the once blood-stained floor was scrubbed to Regan’s approval, I was offered a weakly put together sandwich.
I wasn’t hungry, but I picked at it anyway.
It might be my only chance to eat for a while.
Regan gave me a glass of the rusty water from the tap, and it tasted as bad as it looked.
I sipped slowly, determined not to get sick again.
“Let’s go.”
Before I could even drink half the water, Regan grabbed my arm and pulled me off the floor, throwing me in the direction of the hallway, past where the light from the bathroom ended and into pitch-black darkness.
The further I walked, the stronger the smell of mold got.
Regan kept a tight grip on my shoulder but even without it, I knew better.
I only stopped when the hallway did, waiting for him to open the door before I advanced into the bedroom. The weak light only let me make out the outline of a bed—the only furniture in the house besides the loveseat in the living room.
Regan’s hand trailed across my shoulder, down my waist, and around to my stomach. “Pretty boy’s been feeding you good, huh?” He clenched his hand onto the small gut I’d developed over the last couple of months.
The move roiled my gut again, abs burning from the effort of throwing up. I swallowed down the nausea, but Regan’s next move threatened to undo all my efforts. He cupped my butt, and I whimpered.
I didn’t dare shout. I could have said no, but it wouldn’t have mattered. In fact, it might have only spurred him on.
I tried to control my breaths, but Regan was too in tune to it. He fed on my fear. His hands clenched tighter, and his hips rocked against my back.
He shoved, and I found myself face-down on the bed. One of Regan’s hand put pressure on the back of my neck, and the other undid his pants. All I could do was close my eyes and brace myself.