4
Clara. Age 8
I lay under the bed in the corner of our musty hotel room and play with my dolls. It's like a secret hide out. I like my dolls. Even though one is missing an arm I just pretend she had a bad accident.
“How much for one hour?” A man's voice cuts through the air.
And I see his black fancy dress shoes on the colored carpet.
He sits on the bed with mama, but I can’t see their faces.
She always has friends over, but they never stay long.
I wish I had friends. Mama says I will start school soon if we can find a house.
I've always wanted a house; to be a real family like on TV.
I wish I had a daddy. Mama says she doesn't know who he is.
“Two hundred,” mama tells the man. The scent of cigarettes fills the space above me, wafting down in my hiding spot.
I don't like that smell. It smells dirty and gross.
I know when mama starts talking numbers, I have to put my hands over my ears until he leaves. She said the room gets loud and she doesn’t want to scare me. The man takes his shoes off. The bed dips above me. I listen to Mama because she loves me.
Colors and faces blur around me. Ritualistic movements catch my eyes out of my peripheral.
Val's hands slink around my front and roam over my exposed stomach.
Silas drags his teeth along my strappy top.
I'm unsteady on my feet. My heels almost cause me to tip over.
Their touches stimulate my pleasure receptors. I close my eyes, focusing on the rush.
“Ready to play, darlin'?” Val whispers along the shell of my ear; his hands envelop my body in a dominating, forceful squeeze. The smell of his leather jacket wafts in my space joining Silas’s woodsy scent. I close my eyes, grounding myself.
“Mhmm,” I hum. The alcohol has commandeered my system, but I'm coherent enough to know what I want.
I need to keep the depression at bay. I'll do anything to kill this pain that festers inside me like a sick wound.
It never heals. Good things don't last so might as well drown in the pleasure of sexual desires like a bad habit.
Val lets out a playful symphonic chuckle. I meet Silas’s hazel eyes, they shine with veracity.
They lead me hand in hand out of Grey's living room through the mass of people.
We pass the dimly lit slate fireplace toward the spiraling staircase of dark carved mahogany.
As we ascend to the top, the vintage wallpaper along the walls house family photos of the Elites.
Grey, Silas, Valerius and a few others. Oh, and of course, Kieran.
I pause a moment to stare into the endless depths of his eyes.
My body sobers the minute I see his smug grin.
In this picture, he's standing next to Mr. Grimshaw and Grey's father, Mr. Graves.
His usual devil may care attitude is replaced by a look of pure repugnance.
My body racks with withdrawal. Alcohol only masks the need for drugs.
Like me, Val loves to dissolve into nothing with me.
He's been supplying me with downers all semester.
It's getting increasingly difficult to hide behind the mask of indifference and plastered smiles.
The boys continue to lead me upstairs. My stomach is nauseous and I shiver.
Silas may be oblivious to how fucked up I am, but not Val, he’s the only one who understands my need to numb.
Moans and distant sounds of echoing gasps pulse through the walls.
My heart thrums wildly in my chest and my mind wonders if Kieran is here.
Is he fucking someone in these rooms? I don't know why the thought of him with another woman even swims through my mind.
Especially after what he did. I have two drop dead gorgeous guys on either arm and all to myself, who gives a fuck about Kieran?
Apparently you do, idiot.
I shake off the thought of him. I thread my fingers through Silas's dark strands and force his lips to mine.
I need to forget. I need to drown out the past.
My insides churn with pent up desire. Val wastes no time dragging me away from Silas and through a set of large, dark French bedroom doors.
Silas stalks in behind us. His eyes shine with reverence.
Val leads me to the edge of the large, rounded tufted bed.
A sprawling, netted canopy surrounds the space looking inviting.
The only light is dimly lit sconces in the corners.
They both approach me with a predatory grin.
Val wastes no time removing his shirt, he's always been impatient.
This isn't our first rodeo. Silas cocks his head and waits, watching.
The bulge in his jeans is prevalent. He licks his lips like a savage beast and I hate when he makes me wait. I've never been patient.
Val crawls over me, blocking my view. “Eyes on me, gorgeous,” he purrs, opening his mouth and slipping a xanny on my waiting tongue.
It dissolves instantly. My chest rises and falls to the beat of the muted music thumping through the walls.
My eyes connect with his. His hand roams up my skirt.
His teeth bite along my stomach with fervor.
I peek around Val's large, imposing wall of muscle to find Silas with his head thrown back, his cock in hand and he's slowly stroking himself.
Val slithers up my body and pinches my chin, forcing my eyes back solely on him.
My lips part. I can't concentrate on anything other than the throb in my panties.
Val grips my skirt and panties, ripping them down my legs roughly.
Next, he turns his attention to my tank top clinging to my damp skin.
He slides it off me with practiced precision.
It lands somewhere on the floor. I gasp.
His lips upturn into a smirk. Val gets to his knees and undoes his jeans.
He kicks them off and settles between my legs with a look of pure savagery.
He never comments on the scars Kieran left on me.
It's unsightly. Jagged strips, long healed, mar my inner thighs.
My mind swims from the xanny. I feel lucid.
His hands reach out and slam my wrist against the plush bed.
He doesn't offer me any reprieve as he thrusts into me with a deep throaty growl.
“I want you to feel it, baby,” he rasps.
His blonde strands fall over his side fade.
He blankets my body with his. My eyes turn to Silas.
Each punishing thrust gets Silas that much closer.
Val's sweat coats my stomach, chest and thighs.
I let myself feel. Every deep resonating emotion.
Silas's strokes turn slow and languid as he savors the sight before him.
His eyes land on me and that's when he stalks forward.
He comes around to the side of the bed where my head is resting against the pillows. He aims his cock at my face.
“Say ahh,” his low, husky voice commands.
His eyes hold a visceral desire. I obey.
My pink tongue darts out of my mouth, wetting my lips and welcoming his gift.
He groans and his face twists before wave after wave of his warm, salty cum leaves his body, coating my tongue and lips. Instinctively I swallow, and he preens.
His show sends Val careening over the edge. He gives one final deep stroke before pulling out, grasping his cock in his palm and finishing on my stomach, tits and pussy. His body glistens with sweat. His chest rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath.
“Fuck yeah, Clara.”
I lay in an intoxicating euphoric haze.