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He grabbed me by my arm and yanked me up to my feet so fast and with such brutal strength that I’d cried out in pain and tried to pull my arm out of his grasp. He squeezed a little bit harder, his fingers really biting into my flesh, before letting me go.
"The bitch puked all over everything," he muttered. "Herself included. The whole place now smells sour. Fuck, if I stick around any longerI'mgonna puke. Sorry to say it, little Cinderella, but you gotta get your ass out there and clean that shit up."
He shoved me out of the room, down the dank hallway, and into the living room.
Immediately, I raised my small hand to cover my mouth and nose because the man had not lied. There was puke everywhere and it smelled sour.
I ran to one of the windows across the room and pushed it up and open. It went up with ease and I lowered my hand to suck in some of the clean, fresh air wafting in from the now open window.
Vivian lay on the floor in a mess of her own vomit, completely naked and moaning with her hands clutched to her stomach. Believe it or not, this type of thing happened all the time and sadly, I hadn't grown up in a world where I could afford to be embarrassed about it.
The man rifled through Vivian's expensive purse that one of her “boyfriends” had given her, probably after he'd stolen it. He pulled out a wad of crumpled up bills and stuffed them into the front pocket of his dirty jeans. Something I would be blamed and beat for later. He tossed the purse down to the floor and it unfortunately landed in a pile of vomit. Oh man, Vivian would be so mad when she came to.
The man shrugged sheepishly when he caught me looking at him, but not enough to look remorseful.
I hated him and I didn't even know him. I didn't need to know him to know he was like all the rest and that was reason enough to hate him.
He walked out of the apartment without a backwards glance, and I flinched as the door slammed shut behind him.
Vivian just rolled over to her side and hiked her legs up to her chest. The hair at the back of her head was wet and matted, looking like an absolute mess. At least this way she was on her side and I wouldn’t have to worry about her choking to death on her own vomit. That was something, I guessed.
I spent the next hour and a half cleaning up vomit and the mess left behind after the party Vivian threw for herself on my birthday.
When the apartment was finally cleaned, I was left a trembling mess covered in vomit that was not mine, sweat and other questionable fluids that I didn’t want to think about. Even at nine.
I took my clothes off in the tiny bathroom after I made sure to lock the door and propped the chair up under the doorknob for extra safety. You could never be too safe here, and at nine I already knew this lesson down to the depths of my soul.
Before getting in the shower, I scrubbed my clothes in the sink with a wire brush I kept hidden under the sink and a bar of soap. I wrung them out with my hands and hung them up over the shower curtain rod to air-dry.
Only then did I turn the shower on and step in under the spray. Cold water blasted me in the face, and no matter how far I cranked the knob, the water never heated up and remained freezing cold.
I sank to the bottom of the tub and curled up on my side. I pulled my knees up tight to my chest, wrapped my thin arms around them, and my body racked with silent sobs.
I didn’t even think about how it was the same pose I’d found Vivian in, only she wasn't crying because I didn't think she knew how to cry.
It wasn't even the worst birthday I'd ever had, so why was I crying?
I blinked, coming back to myself in the shower underneath the spray of hot water blasting down on me.
Vivian kept creeping back into my mind at every turn, and I didn't think talking with Tyson last night about our mothers had been necessarily good for my mental health. Somehow, I needed to stop thinking about my birth mom and my fake kidnapper one before I drove myself crazy.
I placed my shaking palms flat against the wall and hung my head. My sopping wet hair clung to the sides of my face, neck, and back. I closed my eyes and let the hot water wash over me, chasing out all the bad I had filling me up on the inside.
Chapter Eleven
Fuck Me
Ididn't hear him coming, but I knew he was there before the glass door to the shower even opened. I was honestly surprised it took him this long to wait to come to me.
I’d had time to shave my legs and armpits, and lather myself up in sweet scented body wash that smelled like honeysuckle. I had no idea where it came from, but I couldn't resist using it because it smelled delicious. Then again, so did the other twelve bottles on the floor lined up against the wall. They all had different scents, and I'd only used four of them so far. The honeysuckle was my favorite, which is why I used it so often.
I was in the process of rinsing the soap off my body when his hands landed gently on my hips. I stiffened but did not look back at him or acknowledge his presence in any other way.
Using my hands and the water raining down on me, I cleared the soap off my body with quick efficiency as if I didn't feel Quinton's fingers burning into my skin where they were wrapped around my hips.
He stood still behind me, waiting me out. Outside of his hands and where they touched me, he remained apart, keeping himself from me. I rinsed the last of the soap off, and even though he'd come to me, I knew I needed to be the first one to get the ball rolling here.
I sighed heavily and allowed myself to lean back against him. His chest came up tight to my back and his hands shifted forward. His palms lay flat against my lower abdomen, fingers splayed wide, body tense.
