Chapter Forty-Six #2
She hesitates before stepping aside and shielding her face from me. She can’t watch as Sal nears me with the hot brand.
“Finally,” he gloats with a wicked smile.
“One of you whores has some sense.” He reaches for my shoulder, shoving me until my back faces him.
He tears the neckline of my shirt until the top of my right shoulder is bare.
I close my eyes, gritting my teeth as heat hovers over my bare skin.
“Let’s see if you’re a screamer,” he whispers huskily before the metal touches my skin.
I suck in a breath, whimpering as sharp, hot pain burns into my flesh. I want to scream—to yank out of his grip. But I don’t. I hold my ground as the feeling of a thousand cigarette butts lights my system with agony. There’s a sickening sizzling sound as my skin bubbles, and he pulls away.
I gasp, tremors wracking my frame as the heat turns to liquid cold. My arms prickle, and I open my eyes.
Sal sucks his teeth in disappointment. “I wanted to hear that pretty voice. I have one of your albums, you know?” He leans over my shoulder, his brows wiggling as if having listened to my music gives him any right to entice my politeness.
I glare back at him, my voice deathly calm. “I’ve felt worse.”
His expression melts away into something predatory. “Oh? Maybe I’ll take you first and change your mind.”
Luna grabs me, pulling me away from him as she frets over my new mark. “Let’s get some ointment on that.”
Her distraction serves to satiate Sal before he whips out of the room, whistling. Once we’re alone, Luna smacks the back of my head. “Don’t challenge him. He seems harmless enough, but he’s sick. They all are…”
“He’s lucky I didn’t spit on him,” I grumble as she drags me into the bathroom. She slathers some thick, white paste onto it, making me hiss.
“Sorry,” She winces before capping the cream. “When I get back, I’ll introduce you to the others.”
My brows furrow. “Where are you going?”
She turns towards the window, her eyes becoming distant at the setting sun. “It’s late. Michael always comes right after work.”
“Who’s Michael?”
She shakes herself out of it, busying herself with arranging the medicine cabinet. “A regular. I need to stop him before he gets to Cara’s room…”
I shouldn’t pry, but I can’t help my morbid curiosity. If I’m here, I should know. “What was Cara saying about—”
“Michael is…rough,” Luna says low as her hands stall. “Please don’t ask, Rose.”
I nod silently, but I want to say something.
Even if it’s a shaky reassurance. I want to be her friend in this dark place, but she’s already worlds away.
I can see it in the space that stretches between us.
She’s distancing herself as she prepares to do something she shouldn’t have to do.
No one here should be subjected to this.
Footsteps pad down the hall, and Luna slips into a persona I don’t recognize. Not on the wild, carefree stage presence she carries on tours or the selfless woman I’ve only known for an hour. She’s hollow—lifeless.
She sweeps right out of the room, and I follow only to stop near the bed when a tall, brutal man stalks past. Luna steps right into his path, lifting a hand seductively to the chest of his suit jacket. She buries her fingers into the lapel, but I can see the disgust she harbors for this individual.
“Where are you going, Michael?” She tilts her head, appearing interested.
The man sniffs, lifting his bald head to peer down the hall. “You know where I’m going. Is Cara in?”
The blonde trails her hand up his chest until it snakes around his neck. “She’s such a bore. Why don’t you try me out tonight?”
To anyone looking in, she seems interested, but to me, she sounds terrified. It’s in the cadence of her voice and how her body isn’t fully turned toward this man. She’s repulsed by him.
“Oh?” Michael purrs before wrapping his forearm around her lower back and pulling her roughly against him.
For a brief moment, I see the fear flicker in Luna’s eyes. She covers it quickly before reaching for the door and closing it so I can’t see the scene about to unfold. I don’t even breathe as I hear their receding steps.
Where are they going?
My question is answered a moment later when the floor above me squeaks. The door to the room opens, and a fiery redhead walks in with purpose. She brushes past me, grabbing a pillow from the bed before pointing at the duvet.
“Sit,” She commands in a raspy voice. I sink down, and she covers my ears with the pillow before placing my hands over my ears. The sounds are muffled as she stares at me. “Don’t move the pillow.”
I nod.
“I’m Silver, by the way.” She leaves me with that parting gift, closing the door behind her.
I know what the pillow is for. It isn’t a secret, and it does nothing to drown out the horrid screams from upstairs. I sit unmoving as I listen to Luna’s voice become so loud that it cracks. There are loud thuds and the sound of skin slapping. It sounds brutal.
Every slam makes me wince. Every scream has my breath gasping past my lips. Every moment that my friend goes quiet twists like a knife in my chest.
Is she okay?
Is she…
This goes on for hours. Not minutes. Hours. The sun has long set outside the window, and time begins to bleed together. I don’t remove the pillow. Even when I feel the hot, heavy tears trickling down my cheeks. I can only sob brokenly as I wait for Luna to return. Praying she returns.