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A few children grumble as a handful of men drape themselves over the women getting ready to leave, following them out of the door as the crowd grows smaller. But the second the door closes behind them, the music is turned up and women in small dresses and barely-there outfits come out of the woodwork.
Whores.
Perfect.
What are the chances I could claim sensitive eyesight too and get a pass from this shit?
“I’m out.”
A huge guy with brown hair curled into a bun pats Blondie on the shoulder before cutting through the crowd and disappearing down a hallway. I expect Blondie to turn to face the party and drag me into it with him, but to my surprise, he tightens his arm around my shoulders and heads for the same hallway his friend took moments earlier.
When we step through the door, the thumping dance music quietens, but is replaced with the sound of heavy metal blasting instead.
“Don’t mind the music. Axel likes to drown us all out.” I nod, not really sure what I’m supposed to say as he opens a door. Uncertainty flashes through me as I spy a bed pushed against the far wall.
There’s an expectation of me now, one I’m not familiar with. He may be hot as fuck, and it’s not like I’m a virgin, but shit, I’m nervous.
“What’s your name, sweet cheeks?”
I startle at his question as my hands flex at my sides. “Scarlett, but everyone calls me Scar.”
His smirk makes him look even sexier as he strokes a finger down my cheek before taking a step back.
“Scar, the name’s Gray. Get some rest, this is your room now. Make sure to lock it,” he says with a wink, before turning on his heels and heading back to the party.
My brows knit in confusion, completely bewildered by him leaving, and the fact that I’m even here to begin with. But I’m far too familiar with how things go in clubs like this, so I quickly step inside the room and shut the door behind me, not releasing my breath until the sound of the lock clicks.
An overwhelming feeling of being out of my comfort zone and completely swept up in the moment washes over me.
I’m just thankful there’s a roof over my head and a fresh set of sheets on the bed. I can handle tomorrow when it comes, but now, I rest.
SIX
Axel
My head poundswith every step I take, but I still move toward the door determined to get on with my day. The pain I’m in is all my own doing and I won’t make excuses, but damn does it hurt like a bitch.
I wince as I step out into the hallway, unappreciative of any noise or bright light coming my way. Although it’s mostly quiet, I can hear the distinct sound of my favorite podcast presenter coming from the other side of the door to the spare room. My steps slow as I tentatively press my ear to the wood, hearing this week's episode about a man that slaughtered his family.
We live in a fucked up world, and it really shouldn’t be entertaining, but it’s fascinating to listen.
Not wanting to be caught looking like a creeper, I move down the hallway toward the kitchen as the smell of coffee lures me closer. I hope like hell that there’s no one actually in the kitchen because I’m in no mood to fucking socialize right now.
Turning to the right, I come face-to-face with Molly, a club whore who annoys me simply by breathing. She looks rough as hell, likely mirroring my current state, so I know I have no room to talk.
I avoid her gaze as I trudge toward the coffee machine and pour myself a mug with the remnants in the jug. I’m not spending any more time in here than is necessary, so the second I place the jug back on the stand, I’m marching back toward the door.
“Axel,” Molly calls out, but I don’t pause to see what she wants.
I make my way toward the garage.
The bar area is empty and clean of any mess left from last night's celebrations, not that I was a part of any of it. I was too busy hiding away in my room with a bottle of liquor as I drank alone.
Again.
I need to stop doing it, but more so, I need to stop touching the hard shit that makes me feel even worse, but fuck does it do a good job of making me feel good before I pass out cold. I’m always running from my memories, running from anything that may hurt me in any way, shape, or form, and a couple of lines to take the edge off really does the trick.
Irritated, I tuck my long, wavy brown hair behind my ear as I take a sip of my hot coffee before pushing the door open to head outside. I instantly regret it as the sun burns my retinas, making my brows pinch as I squint in annoyance.
