That hand snatches around my neck, and I’m lifted just slightly before the door meets my back with throbbing pain. The air in my lungs hisses out. The keys on the wall hook clatter together, threatening to fall to the floor. My bulging eyes take in the disheveled brown hair and the bloodshot eyes that are glaring up at me.
It's like reliving last night all over again.
“I told you to stay in the fucking room, Crymson.” As he speaks, the hot stench of alcohol and weed wafts from his lips and over mine as I struggle to take a gasp of air. “I called the bar and told them you were done working there. I won’t have other assholes touching you. You can stay home. With me.”
White sneakers kick around his feet as I try to find the floor that’s just out of reach.
“Our—bills,” I sputter out the excuse.
I have to go. I moved into this trailer for this asshole at only seventeen, and I have absolutely no one except him, but I have to get out. I have to leave.
Now!
“Don’t fucking worry about our bills.” His fingers tighten around my throat, and black spots kiss my vision. “You stay inside. In the bedroom. I’ll tell you when you can leave.”
I nod. I nod fast and hard, and it’s the only thing I can do because if I don’t agree, he’ll lock the bedroom deadbolt again. Or worse... he’ll hold me here until I black out.
Again.
A smirk touches his lips as he continues to press me into the thin door with more force than before. His smile... I used to think it was sexy. Attractive.
It’s disgusting now.
“Good girl,” he whispers as he presses that smirk to the corner of my lips with a kiss that makes me want to vomit all over his stained white T-shirt.
But it’s enough. He’s leaned in too close.
And I won’t miss my chance.
With one quick move, I fling my hand to the side. A fistful of keys bites into my palm. And I stab the biggest one right into his bloodshot eye.
“Fuckkkk,” he cries out before stumbling back until he trips and tumbles to the floor. His hand covers the wound, but blood spills out between long, shaking fingers.
My mouth falls open with fear and adrenaline and breathless air that I can’t seem to inhale.
And then I scatter away from him.
With fumbling hands, the door flings open and I run out into the harsh morning sunlight. I jump the last broken board on the old wooden stairs and run toward the gravel road with nothing but the city line as my destination.
I have no home. No money. No family.
But I do have looks. Just like my mother, I’m told.
And the clubs around New York City have always paid my way when Van is strung out and violent... or eyeless and deadly.
God, what was I thinking? He’s going to kill me when he finds me.
I’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. From the compliments of a stranger, I’ll find hot food, endless drinks, and a warm bed to hide away in for the night.
I just have to give those kind strangers something in return...
It’s a shitty price to pay for safety.
But I’ll pay it.
Over and over again.
Chapter 6