8 Olivia
April 19th, 2022
I jerked awake, sweat coating my skin, soaking my blankets, my heart pounding against my ribs.
The first thing I noticed was how dry my tongue was, the second was my pounding head.
I felt groggy, my limbs felt like they had gained 100 pounds each.
I groaned, rolling over on my bed, patting the mattress for my phone only to find nothing at all.
After a few seconds of contemplating whether or not I should just go back to sleep, I forced myself to a sit and turned on my lamp.
My phone was on my nightstand, the time reading just past one.
Great.
With a sigh, I let my head fall against the headboard only to wince at the pain I felt throbbing through it. Ow, how did…
I froze as the memories came flooding back, and my hand flew to my throat, fingers grazing over the leather, the metal loop, a small charm.
My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat. I scrambled out of bed, tripping over my blankets, and, after a short struggle with the tangled mess, I sprinted into my bathroom. I ran up to my mirror, grasping the edge of the sink, my breath coming in short and shallow pants. I found my own reflection, my makeup still smudged, revealing what Steven had done to me. But more importantly, what that guy had done to me.
It had been real?
No, no!
I scrubbed my face painfully with cold water and shoved my rat’s nest back. No. I refused to believe that. It couldn’t have been real. It was just my imagination. I had spent the night drinking with Lucy, and I passed out, bought this…this…collar on some delivery app, and my mind brought to life the book I had been working on, that’s what happened. It couldn’t have been real.
But as I straightened, I caught a glimpse of the handprint on the inside of my left thigh, and the red marks around my wrists; my jaw dropped. I could feel the bottoms of my feet throbbing, and I reached back with a shaking hand and found the padlock on the back of the collar, two chains falling several inches down my spine.
Key.
I didn’t have a key.
I squeezed my eyes shut and threaded my hands into my hair at my temples, wincing again at the pain. “No, no, no.”
A sob shook through me, but I forced the tears to remain where they were. I swallowed the anger and frustration. No! That wasn’t real. It was in my head. It was all in my head. It had to be. The key was somewhere. On the table or under the couch, somewhere rational. I dropped it when I put this on. There was a rational explanation for all of this.
It wasn’t real. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare and I had thrashed in my bed, hitting my head, injuring my wrists, I had slapped myself last night.
That was it, it had to be it.
I had to lay off the coffee. The sugar. Anything and everything that got my heart racing.
Never again.
Never again.
I stormed out of the bathroom. “Lucy!”
I called, wincing every time my left thigh jiggled. “Lus!”
I whistled, walking into the living area, wearing nothing but the damp panties and sports bra I had woken up in. I must have just blacked out during my walk, I was sure of it.
Too much sugar. That was all. It was rational.
“Lucy!”
I barked, only to freeze when I saw her lying in the middle of the floor, completely passed out.
My heart skipped a beat.
I broke into a sprint, skidding on my knees to her side, earning some horrible tile burns, but that didn’t matter. I shook her, grabbing the scruff at her neck, trying to force her up. “Lucy, get up. Get up!”
I ordered. “Come on,”
I pleaded, my eyes filling again. “Wake up, please.”
“I’ll kill your fucking dog,”
his words snarled through me.
Panic ensued.
I jumped to my feet and filled up a glass of water, spilling it over the rim as I ran to her and dumped it on her face.
She jerked awake, scrambling to a stand, snarling and snapping at the invisible enemy.
The relief that flooded through me came in such waves it made my stomach twist. “Oh, thank God,”
I said, falling to my knees, wincing at the pain it caused.
Lucy looked around, her ears back, her nostrils flaring as she tried to understand what was happening.
“Lucy,”
I said softly.
Her ears perked and she turned to me licking her lips. I wondered if she had cotton mouth too.
I held open my arms and she sluggishly walked into them, leaning into me as heavily as I did to her, that collar digging into my neck.
I had to find the key.
She was okay. She was alive. See? It was all a nightmare. Someone like that would have made good on their promise, I was sure of it. It wasn’t real.
None of it was real.
I hugged her for as long as she allowed before forcing myself to an exhausted, unsteady stand.
I took a very long, very hot shower, going through a hair and skin routine which I liked to do at least twice a month if nothing terrible happened.
When I got out, I had a missed call from both Steven and mom. I called Steven back first and was sent straight to voicemail. Several seconds passed before I shook my head and hung up. No, if it wasn’t real, I had nothing to confront him about, so I hung up and called mom back as I headed for the kitchen to make my coffee. If I couldn’t find the key, I would just cut the collar off. Easy.
Why did I drunk buy a dog collar with a pawn on it? I had been going through reasons since I got into the shower and had to wash around it. It didn’t make sense. Had I mistakenly thought it’d be cute to match Lucy’s collar? If so, I really needed to lay off the wine because while others may find that cute, I thought it tacky.
Good thing the weather still permitted scarves.
“Why didn’t you pick up the first time? Are you ill?”
I pulled down the coffee grounds only to stop and grind my teeth together.
Cold turkey was the only way to do this.
I shoved the coffee back and shut my cabinet door with a finality. “No, I was in the shower.”
She sighed. “That phone is attached to your body like an extra limb, I don’t accept that.”
I lifted and dropped a hand with a slap against my thigh, only to hiss when it hit the still sore spot from…sleeping wrong. “That’s your fault then, not mine,”
I answered, refusing to look down. “What do you need? And before you answer that, no, I’m not planning a trip down there. My schedule is busy enough, I’m not going to try and squeeze you in too.”
She was quiet for several seconds. “Then I’ll just get right to it, not that I wanted to meet Steven anyway, I’ll only be alive for a few years longer.”
The guilt started to grow in the pit of my stomach. “Mom,”
I said coldly. “Please.”
“It’s fine, I don’t need to meet him, or have grandkids, or any of that nonsense that everyone else in my book club is getting to enjoy. I’ll just suffer alone. You know, if you just signed over your third of the company, you wouldn’t be so busy, as you claim.”
I rolled my eyes, sliding a hand over my stomach as it twisted. “Mom.”
Another deep sigh. “I just think it’s selfish of you, after everything I’ve done for you, not to allow me this one thing.”
A grandchild wasn’t one thing. “I’m going to go—”
“Fine, fine,”
she huffed. “I have a favor I need you to do this week.”
I closed my eyes, running my hand through my damp hair, pulling at a few strands painfully. “I’m not coming to Denver.”
“It’s in Colorado Springs,”
she assured me, the irritation clear in her voice. “I need for you to go and meet with one of our newest clients. I need you to grab a check from him and deposit it into our account.”
I shoved away from the counter and walked around my island into the living area. “And why can’t one of your lackies do it?”
“Why waste the money paying for someone to drive all the way down there when you’re already there? You’re a waste otherwise, now, aren’t you? Please, sweetie? Just one dinner, one check.”
Ouch, but despite her words, I found myself chewing on my thumbnail and finding Lucy’s eyes anyway. It wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. We went on dinners with clients all the time growing up. At least they did. I was left at home with the nanny, but I knew what they were doing. It was part of the business, and I did own a third of the company. I needed to start doing things like this if I ever hoped to run the company myself.
“Just one dinner?”
I clarified, dropping my hand.
“Yes, and it’s at 7 o’ clock, I’ll text you the details,”
she said and hung up the phone.
I sighed. “Perfect,”
I mumbled, falling into my couch. “That’s just perfect.”
Seconds later, I got a text with a name, date, and a restaurant.
“Mr. Kingsmen,”
I said out loud. I released another sigh and found Lucy’s eyes again. “At least he sounds wealthy. Maybe he’ll do the company some good.”
“…looking for more silver spoons to put in your mouth.”
I gasped and shook my head. “No, no, no. God!”
I growled and stormed across the house. I grabbed the remote and turned on my speakers before pulling up my playlist and turning it up until I was sure someone would file a noise complaint.
I walked into my bedroom and grabbed my laptop, returning to the kitchen table and shoving it open. Work, that’s what I needed. I needed work. I needed to lose myself in my book. I needed to get those chapters to Katie, and I needed to forget about that horrible nightmare because that’s what it was.
It was a nightmare.
It was all just a horrible, horrible nightmare.
It was also some really good inspiration.
But first; the key.
April 23rd, 2022
I couldn’t find the key. I tossed my apartment, and I couldn’t find the goddamn key. To top it off, nothing in my house was sharp enough to cut it off either, so I had to opt for an outfit that allowed a scarf for the dinner date this evening.
I put on my favorite deep blue, drop-back, floor-length dress. I hardly ever got to wear it, but with the slit all the way up to my thigh and the pools of fabric around my breasts and the base of my spine, it was the perfect dress for the cool Spring weather. And it went well with the thin black scarf I was able to tie around my neck and drape down my spine. The perfect spring look.
I paired them with a pair of black heels and pulled my hair half up in braids and pins. I finally put on a full face of make-up, and some silver bracelets to cover up what I had done to myself last night before grabbing my clutch and heading out.
A cab waited for me outside of my building. I slid in easily and we pulled away from the curb.
I sent Steven a text saying I was busy tonight and settled into my seat, but my eyes quickly fell to my exposed thigh. The burn mark was still angry and red. It pained me every time the fabric of my dress slid across it, but I couldn’t cover it up. The white gauze would be much more noticeable than the mark itself at this point. If I sat just right, Mr. Kingsmen wouldn’t see it.
I swallowed and pulled my dress over to cover it. I must have spilled hot tea or leaned in too close to the oven last night, that was all. Perfectly reasonable.
I was smoothing out my dress just as we pulled up in front of one of the more expensive restaurants in the city. My mom had no idea what was in this city so he must have set it up.
Part of me expected there to be cameras. People with microphones and recorders asking for a statement from me about why I was meeting with a client on my own. Where were my parents? Why wasn’t my dad doing this? Why send me, the young runaway prodigal of the Lemont family fortune.
But there was nobody there.
No cameras, no recorders, just normal people enjoying a night out.
I was grateful for it. Most of my life I wondered why there had always been cameras around. Yes, we were a prolific family who very nearly ran the oil industry single-handedly, but we weren’t celebrities. How often had my mother scheduled them to be there? How often had she planned for them to always be there just to be in the paper? Did they follow us because of who we were or did my mom follow them because she wanted to be looked at as a local celebrity?
The lines blurred when the money grew because the truth was, I would never know that answer. All I had were theories, and my biggest one was that the paparazzi and the news reporters didn’t give a shit about us, not after the first handful of stories, but my mom? She was more in love with the limelight than she was with her family.
I walked through the front doors and up to the host. “Good evening,”
I greeted as she smiled back. “I’m here for Lemont.”
I hated that name. I hated it so much that it made my already tightened stomach curl into even tighter knots.
She frowned and shook her head, worry in her eyes. “There is no Lemont reservation tonight.”
My own brows furrowed for half a second before I smoothed them out. “Kingsmen?”
Her smile brightened a moment later. She must have found the name. “Of course, right this way.”
I followed her through the restaurant to a table in the center of the room where a man was already waiting for me.
Guilt filled me. Crap, I was late, wasn’t I? Traffic must have been worse than it felt.
“Thank you,”
I told the woman and closed the distance between us, studying him carefully as I did.
He was wearing an expensive suit, a long trench coat resting over the back of an extra chair he had pulled up to the table. He was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed, his hand around the base of a wine glass, his bald head reflecting the dim lights above.
From this view, I couldn’t really gauge his age, but my guess was around the same age as my father. Late 40’s, early 50’s.
I stepped up to the table, smiling warmly. “Mr. Kingsmen?”
He looked over before standing and turning to face me. His eyes were bright blue, his face clean shaven, kind looking. He was smiling brightly, warmth seeping from his pores.
He was a good man, that much I could tell, and I felt my shoulders relax just a hair. “You must be Mrs. Lemont’s secretary,”
he beamed, gesturing for my hand.
Mrs. Lemont? He was working with my mom and not my dad?
I held out my hand and watched as he kissed my knuckles gently, trying to shake away the thoughts. He was probably just sick. “Welcome,”
he nodded, letting my hand go only to walk over to my chair and pull it out for me.
I smiled, taking the seat. “Thank you.”
He walked over and sat across from me, the table small, intimate. “It’s very nice to meet you,”
he said, adjusting his tie. “But I do apologize, she didn’t give me a name.”
A waitress stopped by, offering red wine which I gladly accepted. “You can call me Rose,”
I said, “and you? Shall I just call you Mr. Kingsmen?”
He chuckled and waved me off. “No formalities here. Call me Malachi. Rose is such a beautiful name, but it hardly stands up to your beauty. Are you from here?”
My cheeks warmed at the compliment as I folded one leg over the other, carefully adjusting my dress to cover the burn. “I’ve only lived here a few years. Family matters, and you?”
“Off and on over the years,”
he nodded. “A beautiful city. Is that what drove you to this place? The beauty of it?”
I did love the mountains. Something about them felt refreshing. “I feel most of us can be considered a prodigal son. I just don’t think I’ll ever go back. I needed a fresh start; I feel that’s required every now and again.”
He nodded, his own cheeks rosy. “I agree. I’ve had a few daughters begin their lives anew just in the last couple of years. Eventually you have to find something worth staying for though. Something worth keeping.”
I shrugged. “I have my dog, she’s enough for me.”
His eyes lit up. “A dog? What breed is she? I’ve always loved dogs, but I’ve never gotten the chance to keep one. My travels simply don’t allow it.”
Dogs loved to travel too, but he seemed the type to travel by plane a lot and that simply wasn’t fair, in my opinion, to put a dog through that. “Wolf-German Shepard. Well trained and wild.”
“Ah, the key to this old man’s heart. Come, let’s order, tell me more about your life.”
So we looked at the menu and ordered our food, and we talked. Any apprehension I had felt fell away the more we spoke. It was nice, just having someone to talk to about nothing. About everything. About mountains and fresh air, about the vastness of the world, and the depths of the sea. About poems, literature, and art.
I never got that before. Not with my parents, certainly not with Steven.
I found myself smiling for the first time in a very long time. A real, genuine smile. He was kind. He listened. His conversations were filled with real information, with substance, rather than empty words and nonsense. It felt good.
When the meals were gone and dessert was eaten, we sat back in our seats and the world slowed. I twisted my glass around, staring at the liquid. It was my third glass. His fourth, and while the night may have been coming to a close, I wasn’t ready for it to end.
I found myself staring out towards the window, wondering what it would have been like, what this conversation would have led to had I told him that I was a Lemont. Would it have led to deals and talks of true business? Or would our conversations have remained the same as they were?
But I wasn’t a Lemont. And I was free to have whatever conversation I wanted without the cameras and the flashing lights and my mother’s influence hanging over me like a bad ex who just wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“You know,”
Malachi began, pulling my attention back, “when a woman gets that look in her eyes, she’s either plotting for something, longing for something, or thinking too much about something she can’t change.”
A soft smile touched my lips.
He folded his hands over his lap, reminding me too much of the man from The Club that haunted my nightmares. “What has your mind wandering down valleys too often traveled?”
I shrugged lightly, finding his eyes. “I don’t know,”
I answered truthfully. “I feel as if I’m wandering, and my compass is broken. I’m not sure what to do next.”
It was the most truthful I had been in a very long time, but what was the harm? I would never see this man again. We were just two ships in the night, pausing briefly in our own storms to ease each other’s sails before continuing in our journey.
He nodded. “I know a thing or two about lost souls,”
he admitted. “In fact, in the last two years, I’ve adopted two beautiful young girls into my family. Both so lost and broken, finding their pieces within the chests of my sons.”
He smiled so brightly, it made my chest ache. “One of them just got engaged.”
My heart fluttered, tears burning behind my eyes. “You must be so proud,”
I said, feeling the lump grow in my throat. In all of this confusion and chaos, at least there was that. Still beauty. Still something that made sense. While I was having delusions, another girl just got engaged and that was just…it was beautiful. Her dreams were coming true. Her joy could be felt across my skin despite the fact that I didn’t even know her name.
I wished her well. I wished for her everything that I never got.
I could see the pride shining in his eyes. “My sons have been with me since they were just boys, and I didn’t think they would ever settle down. Between you and me, actually, I knew one of them would, but the others? I wasn’t sure they were capable of such a thing as love. I thought it best the three never settle, but they proved me wrong last year,”
he chuckled. “Very wrong. They were both great additions to the family. What about you? Do you have a family of your own?”
I swallowed and shook my head, clearing my throat gently. “No, no, it’s just…just me. But it’s better that way,”
I nodded, finding his eyes as if he needed the reassurance. “It really is.”
His eyes saddened. “It’s never better to be alone.”
“It is,”
I repeated. It had to be.
He studied me for a moment. “How old are you, Rose?”
I licked my lips, adjusting myself. “I just turned 23.”
I didn’t want to be assessed or judged for my beliefs. I just wanted to have a nice conversation about things that mattered. Love? That didn’t matter. Art and music and literature, that mattered. Those things wrote this world, but love? Love had nothing to do with it.
Malachi smiled softly. “You’ve barely just begun, baby girl.”
And something about the way he said that made my stomach warm and my eyes fill. Nobody had ever called me that. Mom called me ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, but never that. Never anything with such warmth behind it.
“You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, take it from this old man. Traveling the world, seeing all of those beautiful things in all of those beautiful places, it is much better spent with a soul sitting beside yours. One that sings the same song as yours. You don’t want to write poetry and songs about how lonely you are and how tragic this world is, you want to write them about how your souls sing together in the light of the midnight sun.”
I pressed my lips together, my eyes filling to the brim at how lovely that sounded. How beautiful.
“Dancing under the stars is better spent with a partner, hmm?”
he continued with a smile. “You are still a child. Your compass isn’t broken, Rose, you just haven’t been taught how to read it yet.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and smeared my lips together, trying to keep the tears from falling. “Well,”
I said, picking up my glass, my eyes finding his again, “you sure know how to make a pretty girl cry,”
I laughed lightly.
He chuckled as he pulled out his handkerchief and offered it to me. “I’ve heard that a lot, oftentimes in not such pleasant circumstances.”
I took it gratefully and gently dabbed under my eyes despite there being no fallen tears yet. “Thank you for the advice, Malachi.”
“You’re very welcome. Now, I suppose we need to get business done before it gets too late, hmm? This old man needs some rest.”
Right, I almost forgot.
He pulled out an envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it over the table towards me. “Let Mrs. Lemont know that I was absolutely sure about this until I met you. She’ll get her loan just as she asked though, in the amount she asked. Tell her our deal stands.”
It took everything in me not to react as I took the envelope and slid it into my clutch. A loan? Why the fuck would they need a loan? “Thank you.”
And why were they contacting people here to get one? And why was he sure of it until he met me? What did that mean?
“You’re welcome, Rose. This was such a lovely evening. I hope to meet with you again.”
I smiled and nodded as he stood and walked over, pulling out my chair for me. “Yes, I would like that.”
And I really would. Just to talk. Just to have an hour or so of real conversation, even if it was just with the banker who gave my family a loan.
We walked out to the sidewalk and said our goodbyes. He offered to call me a cab, but I declined. I needed the walk. I needed to make a call and not be interrupted or listened in on by the cab driver. I needed a second to say how I felt without being judged.
I waved goodbye at him and started down the street in the direction of my apartment, the street still busy with the nightlife, my mind reeling with what I had just discovered.
Why did they need a loan? And why were they getting one out of the bank here and not in Denver? Was she trying to get me to be more involved in the business?
I didn’t want that.
I mean, I did, but not like this. I wanted to be more involved with the paperwork. With the finances, the expanding, but this? We shouldn’t need loans. Ever.
I pulled my phone out of my clutch, angry and ready to call mom only to see that Steven was already calling me.
My stomach tightened, all of the good feelings from dinner completely wiped away just like that.
I hit answer, put it to my ear and adjusted the thin strap across my chest, my clutch sitting comfortably on my hip. “Hell—”
“Where the fuck are you?”
I flinched back from his tone, my steps slowing. “I told you that I had dinner tonight with a client. I sent you a text.”
Was he drunk? He sounded drunk.
“Oh my God, a prostitute, Liv? Seriously? God, you’re so fucking disgusting. Is that where you get your money? You’re out there fucking other guys to earn a few hundred bucks? I probably need to get tested, don’t I? Fuck, I knew it.”
My eyes widened, my head spinning from the whiplash of how sharp the conversation had turned.
I shook my head, pressing my hand into my forehead. Just breathe. Breathe. He was drunk and angry, that was all.
“How many STD’s do I have now, huh? A dozen? How many dicks have you fucking sucked you fucking disgusting little trash whore?”
I stopped and shook my head, looking up to the night sky just to keep the tears from falling. How did I get myself into this? How had I let myself fall so far?
He was panting into the phone, and I could almost see the sweat dripping down his face from the exertion it took for him to say all of that in one breath.
When I was sure he was done, I opened my mouth to speak, only for him to get in one last word. “Pathetic fucking child.”
My mouth snapped shut and I shook my head, swallowing the tears building in my throat. “It was for my job,”
I told him evenly. “The one I’ve been working since I moved here. At the café.”
He was quiet for a long time. “Coffee shops don’t have meetings at 10 at night,”
he stated bitterly. “You’re a fucking filthy ass liar. Thanks for bailing on me at The Club.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
I breathed out. We weren’t supposed to go to The Club until tomorrow, what was he talking about?
I pulled my phone away from my face, checking the date, making sure I wasn’t crazy. It was the 23rd. We weren’t due back until tomorrow.
When I put the phone back to my ear, he was going off about how I was the worst girlfriend, that I never fucked him right, that I was nothing but a piece of ass to use until he found someone better to replace me.
“Get here now so you can show me how sorry you are, or I swear to God, Olivia, I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” Click.
I sucked in my lips and closed my eyes. Fuck.
The conversation from the restaurant seemed like a dream now. Nothing more than a reprieve from the nightmares I had been stuck in for years and the one now waiting for me at my apartment.
Because he had a key that I couldn’t remember giving him, but he was sure I had.
I must have.
I worked my jaw and shook my head before dialing up my mom. Might as well get it all over with.
“I was just about to call you,”
she said in way of greeting. “How was dinner?”
I grasped the bridge of my nose for several seconds, trying to breathe. I should have taken a couple of minutes before calling because I could already feel the rage and just absolute disdain burning under my skin.
“Honey? Are you there?”
I dropped my hand to my side and shook my head. No. No, I wasn’t here. I was out among the fucking drifters of this city fucking the money out of men’s wallets, apparently, like the pathetic trash piece of shit whore that I fucking was. “Yup, I’m here,”
I said, the thickness in my voice betraying me. I looked down at my dress, scowling at it. It’s not something a whore would wear, was it? Something this beautiful. God, fuck Steven.
“And? How did it go?”
The only way to get rid of the thickness was to swallow it down and allow just an inch of anger out, just enough to get my point across. “I got your loan,”
I said bitterly, wrapping my arm around my ribs.
“Good, I’ll need for you to meet him again.”
My eyes widened. I had already decided I wanted to have dinner with him again, but who the fuck was she to not give me an option? To set me up like she did and have no good reasoning why?
“Once every two weeks so we can pay him back.”
I couldn’t feel my feet.
“We just wanted to make sure he liked you before sending you back. You’re so young and beautiful, I knew it would work out.”
My jaw couldn’t hit the ground fast enough. “You sent me to meet him because you thought he’d want to fuck me?”
I breathed out. “You wanted me to soften him up so he’d make good on the deal?”
“Let Mrs. Lemont know that I was sure of this until I met you.”
It all made sense now, but I guess the joke’s on you, mom, I wasn’t his type.
“You need to watch your language with me, young lady, I didn’t teach you to curse like that.”
“You didn’t teach me a goddamn thing!”
I shouted, earning looks from the people walking by. “How could you do that to me? I’m all alone in this city and you set me up with a man you’ve never met before so you could get money for a business that should be so flush with cash, we could be giving out our own loans!”
I seethed. “How did you know something wouldn’t happen to me?”
Why was she needing money? What was happening to the company?
“Because you’re a strong and capable girl.”
If only she knew. “That doesn’t stop others from attacking me!”
I said through my teeth, remembering that nightmare, my hand instinctively finding my neck, feeling the collar beneath the scarf, my blood chilling.
“You have Steven—”
“Steven b—" My teeth clicked shut, the world blurring around me. Goddammit!
“Steven what? Beats you? Is that what you were about to say?”
She laughed, and I honestly couldn’t believe she even guessed that on the first try. “Okay, well that is certainly not true. I would know if my daughter was dating someone who beat her, and even if he did, I wouldn’t blame him,”
she went on, causing my stomach to hollow out completely. “The things you put me through, I’m sure he got tired of holding his tongue just like I did. You know what? I’m going to give him a call.”
That was just…that was just perfect. Why did she even have his number?
“You sound like you need some rest dear, you should get home, drink some tea, take some of those sleeping pills I sent you. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I swallowed, tears dripping down my cheeks. “I’m not like you, mom. I won’t just pop pills because it makes everything easier.”
I’ll certainly have my fair share of alcohol though.
“That is very rude to tell your mother.”
“Good.”
I hung up and shoved the phone away, my bottom lip trembling as I quickly swiped my fingers under my eyes.
I glanced down at my fingertips and nodded, more tears filling my eyes when I saw the black and red smeared across them. Perfect. This was just goddamn perfe—
A hand wrapped around my wrist, and I was jerked to the side violently.
My whole world spun and tilted, nothing slowing down or making sense until I was shoved up against the wall, a hand slamming over my mouth, while the other pinned one wrist to the wall, a leg sliding between both of mine, a body pressing me into the crumbling brick.
My eyes widened, heart slamming against my ribs when I met the cool silver-blue eyes of the man from The Club.
He had me pinned to the wall.
I was trapped.