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It might be what finally breaks me. I’m that close to the edge. I feel it. I know it. All this fighting was for nothing. I might as well have given up that first day when Quinton took me off the street.
What was it all for? I told him what he wanted, he got his revenge, and I’m still here. It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t save myself. All I did was elongate the pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s a little slurred, thanks to my busted lip, but it isn’t like there’s anyone around to hear me. No, the person I said it to is far away—if there is such a thing as an afterlife, anyway.
I never was sure. Now I don’t know what that means for Nash. Where did he go when he died? Is he hovering over me somehow? Watching me? I hope not. I wouldn’t want him to see me like this.
He was the only one who gave a damn about me. And he wanted me to get to safety. I failed. Him. Myself. “I’m sorry,” I say again, though I’m not quite sure what I’m sorry for anymore.
Not being fast enough? Even if I wasn’t, I never betrayed him. I need to believe that counts for something.
I always stood by his side, no matter how much easier it would have been to talk. I owed him way too much.
“Where are you taking me?” My words are just a whisper, but my father hears them even over the humming of the engine.
“I told you, I have a friend who would like to meet you.”
When he first told me about it, I was so thrilled. He has never introduced me to any of his friends. Hell, he has never called me out of the blue, either. My excitement faded as soon as he told me to put this weird outfit on.
I look down at the school outfit that fits about two sizes too small for me. The skirt is so short I have to pull on the hem as I sit just so my underwear is not showing. The blouse is missing a few buttons, making it dip too low for my liking.
I’m only sixteen, but my breasts have developed early. For the last few years, I’ve been trying to hide them from the guys my aunt brings home sometimes. There is no hiding in this getup, though.
Shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat of my father’s car, I wonder where exactly he is taking me. A few minutes later, I get my answer. We pull up to a large fancy estate, much like my father’s place. He parks the car right in front of the door and kills the engine.
Up until now, I was simply uncomfortable, but as the seconds tick by and my father gets out of the car to open my door, that feeling turns into fear. Something is wrong, very wrong.
“Get out,” my father orders. “Nathaniel is waiting.”
On shaky legs, I climb out of the car and follow my father to the front door. It opens before we get a chance to knock.
“Ahh, there you are,” a man about my dad’s age greets us. “I’ve been waiting all day for my new girl.” His eyes move up and down my body, scanning every inch of me besides my face. I immediately try to cover myself with my arms, feeling dirty and exposed in this outfit.
“She is untrained… but she’ll do. I’ll just have to use the cane on her until she knows not to cover up,” the man says with a sly grin.
My fear turns into heart-pounding panic. This has to be a mistake. My father wouldn’t leave me here.
“Dad, I want to go back home.” I turn to my father, begging him with my eyes to take me with him. I reach out for his arm, but he simply slaps my hand away as if I am nothing but an annoyance to him.
“I told you not to call me that. She is all yours, Nathaniel. Use her as you see fit.”
My heart shatters into a million pieces. No matter how hard I press my palm against my chest, I can’t stop falling apart. A single tear rolls down my face as I watch the man I call my father walk away from me without remorse.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you. And if you behave, I’ll even let you call me daddy.
A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. Nash saved me that day. He saved me from a fate I don’t ever want to think about. Now he is dead, and I can never repay him.
Did it hurt? Was it slow or fast? They never told me. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. After the endless living nightmare I’ve been through, one thing is for sure: the anticipation of pain can be worse than the pain itself. The mind can come up with a lot of ugly ideas if you give it enough time—and I’ve got nothing but time.
