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5

Bianaca

Mom was late. Again.

She had texted me an hour earlier—an hour after the gym had already closed—to tell me Steve had taken her out to dinner. Some obscure Italian restaurant near the downtown area.

The only person who remained was Eric Long, the owner and manager.

Shivering, I tugged my coat closed. The zipper had broken a few months ago, and I hadn’t saved enough money to buy a new jacket. Heaven only knew that Steve and Mom wouldn’t spend money on me. Steve believed in “responsibility” for children and had polluted my mother’s mind. Of course, such responsibility only applied to me, not his own son. Dylan would never take responsibility for his actions.

Because of Steve’s parenting motto, my car had been taken from me until I could pay for my own insurance. I had to choose between a job and gymnastics. The choice was easy.

Gymnastics was my life. My escape. My one bright spot in the monotonous darkness that was my life.

Glancing at my phone, I saw no new messages from Mom. Of course, she had forgotten about me. Steve had probably given her some bullshit spiel about how I would gain character by walking the twenty miles back to the house. I could call Beau and ask him for a ride, but the last time I had checked in on him, he had admitted he was on a date. I didn’t want to bother him. One half of me knew he would come running to my aid while the other half was worried he wouldn’t. “Need a ride?” Eric asked, stepping outside and locking the door.

Victory Gymnastics was an immense structure that appeared more like a barn than a gym. It had a hideous vaulted green roof that clashed greatly with the beige walls. There were no windows—the coaches didn’t want the girls to get distracted—and two doors, one on either side. It might’ve been ugly, but it was my home. The monochromatic lobby with white plastic chairs, white tiles, and white walls held more happy memories than my own house. And the gym itself? No words in the thesaurus were adequate enough to describe the exhilaration I felt when I stepped on the squishy blue mats. Felt the chalk on my hands. The leotard rubbing against my skin.

Eric was a retired professional gymnast. He was well into his seventies with a receding white hairline and a potbelly that accentuated his age. But there were crinkles around his eyes and mouth from repeated laughter. This was a man who loved life and everyone in it.

“What?” I asked, blinking rapidly at him. He chuckled.

“I see that your mom isn’t here. Again.” His lips twisted into something that resembled a scowl. Well…as close to a scowl as Eric could get. “Do you need a ride?”

Eric lived on the opposite side of town, but the sun was waning behind nearby buildings, and the air was getting chillier. I hated to inconvenience him, but I knew I had no other alternative. I would walk…if I didn’t live in a bad part of town.

A girl like me? Walking alone at night? I may have been desperate, but I wasn’t stupid.

I was just about to accept his offer when a familiar red Mustang pulled up. Music emanated from the vehicle—some rap song that had every other word some type of cuss.

Dylan popped his head out the driver’s side window.

“Hey, Sis! I’m here to pick you up,” he called. Eric, seemingly satisfied that I had a ride, patted me on the shoulder.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a tender smile. He waved hello to Dylan as he walked to his own vehicle.

I remained frozen, mouth agape, as I stared at Dylan’s mischievous smile. Coming out of my shock, I hurried to the passenger side door and threw my duffle bag over the seat before climbing in.

“I’m not your sis,” I hissed, hating the term. The connotations behind it. Dylan was Steve’s son.

And my pain in the ass.

“Be nice to your brother,” he said with a laugh. The sound sent pinpricks of fear racing down my spine. “I drove all the way from home to pick your sorry ass up.”

His hand rested on my knee, and my stomach threatened to expel the contents of my dinner.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice was weak, even to my own ears. I debated how beneficial it would be to run to Eric’s car and take him up on that offer. Before I could even fully articulate the thought, the old man was pulling away with a cheery wave in our direction. So oblivious, like the rest of the world.

But why would he, or anyone else for that matter, think differently? For all he knew, Dylan was a nice older brother picking up his little sister from gymnastics class. Normal.

Dylan’s hands moved farther up my sweatpants, stroking my inner thighs. I tensed, squeezing my eyelids shut.

“Don’t be like that, Sis.”

* * *

I woke with a start,heart hammering in my chest. My stomach plummeted like a fucking bowling ball as I replayed the dream in my head. I had gotten so much better at quelling the nightmares. My sleep was supposed to be the one place I was safe.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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