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He regards me like he doesn’t know what to make of me. Like he’s not sure if he should believe me.
“Alright, Bailey, how about this? I’ll give you one week to prove that you have what it takes to work here. Your first day I’ll have Mia show you around a bit so you can get a feel for the place. I’m in desperate need of help, so on your second day, I’ll have you working the bar more on your own.”
Relief floods through me, and I nod, which causes his attention to shift from my eyes to my hair, right where it falls on my face over my scar. I immediately glance down and hope he didn’t see it.
“Be here tomorrow at three to fill out paperwork. Mia will be here, and she’ll show you around and let you know what you’ll be doing. Because you’ll be working around food and drinks, you’ll need to pull your hair back.”
My lungs seize with his last words. Oh, God, I hadn’t thought about that. I hate exposing my face for others to see. There could be questions that I can’t answer. There could be speculation that I’ll have no choice but to put to rest. All I want is to lay low and mind my own business. It’s bound to spread around that there’s a new woman in town with a jagged scar on her face. The more people who notice me, the bigger the chance of Steven finding me.
Jaxon interrupts my thoughts by asking, “Is that a problem?”
I look up and see him watching me carefully, waiting for my reaction to his question. I make sure my emotions are not plastered on my face. “No.”
“Good.” With a nod in my direction, he takes off down the bar to help customers.
As I watch him walk away, I let my shoulders drop. What have you gotten yourself into, Bailey? Can I really do this? Anxiety starts to rise, and I have to force myself not to hyperventilate. Some people may think I’m overreacting, but they really have no clue about the fear I live with on a daily basis. The fear that Steven will find me.
Steven has many contacts throughout the country. I have no doubt that if I stay here long enough he will eventually find me, and I can’t let that happen. I know he won’t let me get away this time. Oh, no, he’ll have his fun with me, and then finish me off. His exact words the last time I saw him were, “I’ll kill you before I let you go. You hear me, you stupid bitch? You’re mine.” He said this while squeezing my throat as he raped me.
Cutting off that train of thought, I force myself not to call Jaxon back and tell him I changed my mind about the job. I literally have no choice but to accept. I could wait until something else opens up but I’m sure that not many jobs become available in a town of this size. And when they do, I’m sure they get filled by the locals pretty quickly.
After glancing around one last time, trying to imagine myself working here, I grab my purse and hop off the stool. Once I reach the door, I look back over my shoulder toward the bar. Jaxon is casually leaning on the bar in front of the same woman. It looks like they’re having an intimate conversation. He suddenly glances over the woman’s shoulder and catches me watching him. His brow puckers as we stare at each other. Even from this far away, his eyes mesmerize me. They suck me in and it’s impossible to look away.
Suddenly, he gives his head a little shake and breaks our contact. He returns his gaze to the woman in front of him. Right before I turn back toward the door, he lifts his hand and grabs a curl that has escaped the woman’s up-do. I don’t know why, but this bothers me. I don’t like to think of him touching another woman. Of course, I don’t want him touching me either; I have no desire for any man to ever touch me again, but I definitely don’t want him touching anyone else either.
I quickly exit the building and return to my car. Now that I’ve found a job, I can finally relax and get some much-needed sleep. I still have no place to stay, so it looks like I’ll be sleeping in my car. I pull into the library parking lot and use that as my resting spot.
Once I park my car, I reach back and grab the pillow and blanket I have stashed behind my seat. After locking my door, I lean back against it with my blanket tucked around me and close my eyes. It doesn’t take me long before I drift off to sleep.
3
I SIMPLY LIE THERE WITH my head to the side the entire time. There are more of them than usual, and I’m grateful that this time he gave me the drugs. I feel weightless, like I’m not really there, but I know that I am. I know what’s happening, but I don’t care. My vision is blurring in and out, and my hearing, at best, sounds as though I am stuck in a tunnel. I feel and see virtually nothing. I wish it could be this easy every time, but no, he enjoys my pain too much. I’m surprised he was lenient on me, but no matter, he knows that even though I’m drugged tonight, I will remember everything tomorrow. Tomorrow the pain will start again. A lone tear slips from my eye.
My vision briefly clears as I’m jostled around, and my eyes land on him. He’s sitting in a plush burgundy chair. He’s still fully clothed, except for his zipper is down. He has his dick out and he’s stroking it. He rarely joins in during these gatherings. He likes to sit to the side and watch me with accusing eyes, like I’m the one who puts me in these situations. It’s like he blames me, and he always punishes me afterwards.
Right now, his eyes carry hatred and heat. He enjoys it, but hates me for it. I know from that one look, my punishment tonight will be severe. I’m powerless to do anything. All I can do, or even want to do at the moment, because of the drugs, is lie there and stare blankly, waiting for it to be over.
When the others finally leave, I’m left lying on my stomach with my arms stretched out above my head and my legs open. Through my fuzzy vision, I see him getting up and walking toward me. It’s coming, but I can’t move. I can’t stop it. I feel the bed dip as he climbs onto it. He’s out of my limited vision, so I can’t see what he’s doing. All of a sudden, I feel him between my legs. He grabs my hair and violently yanks my head back. In my ear, he growls, “Did you like that, my pet? Well, we haven’t even begun.” And with that he rams himself inside me….
I jerk awake and immediately taste the bile that’s trying to come up. I barely get my door open in time to lose the contents of my stomach. This happens more often than not. The more vivid the dreams, the worse it is. Some nights the dreams are more vivid than others, and just when I think I might be getting over them, one grips me and pulls me under again.
I know that I need professional help. I just can’t stay in one place long enough to warrant seeking it. Not to mention therapists want you to sell your soul to the devil himself to pay for their services. Steven’s taken everything else from me; I refuse to give him my soul as well.
I reach over and grab my bottle of water off the passenger seat and rinse and spit the foul taste from my mouth. After I close the door, I pick up my phone and to check the time. It’s almost ten o’clock. I also find two missed calls from Chris. I must have really been deep in my dream to have not heard my phone ring. Before she decides to send out the cavalry, I call her to ease her worried mind.
“Hi,” I say when she picks up on the first ring. Even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy and tired.
“Oh my God, Bailey, you’ve had me so worried! Why didn’t you answer my calls?” she asks, shouting in my ear.
“I’m sorry. I was so exhausted last night from driving that I guess I didn’t hear the phone. I had a really rough night.” That was the understatement of the year.
“Bad dreams again?”
It wasn’t until about a month after I left that I told Chris about my dreams. After an especially bad one I woke up hyperventilating, thinking Steven had caught up with me again. Chris called when I was on the verge of passing out. She knew immediately that something was wrong. Luckily, she was able to calm me down over the phone. It was then that I confessed I’d started having them right after I left Steven.
“Yes,” I sigh. “This one was really bad. I woke up sick again.”
“Oh, Bailey, I’m so sorry, honey. I wish there were something I could do.” There’s such sadness in her voice that it breaks my heart. She’s almost as affected by the dreams as I am. She always feels so helpless because there’s nothing she can do to help alleviate my pain. I love this woman so much. She’s more than a friend, she’s my sister. And I know she loves me just the same. I know that if there was a way for her to take the pain away from me, she would. Hell, I know this woman would endure the pain for me. Of course, I would never ask or allow that to happen. This is my pain, and I have to learn how to deal with it.
