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What’s he doing here?
“That man with your mother. You don't just start banging a pussy straightaway. You must warm it up first. It makes the experience so much more pleasurable for both participants,” he answers and then winks at me.
I open my mouth to say something but can't find the words. He’s shocked me into silence. That wasn’t the response I was expecting to hear from him. Then again, I wasn't expecting him to be here in the first place.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I finally manage to ask.
“My name is Eaton Armstrong. And I've come to collect what’s mine.”
2
EATON
“I’ve come to collect what's mine.”
I've waited what has felt like a lifetime to say those words, but it has been precisely eighteen years. It was my twelfth birthday when I first learned the truth, and I’m thirty today. The fourteenth of May. I rub the ring on the little finger of my left hand. It was my mother’s ring, which I had adapted to fit me. Stroking it helps me think.
“What do you mean? There ain’t nothin’ here for the likes of you. So you can kiss my ass.” The young girl in front of me is on her feet, hands on her hips, staring me down. “We ain't got nothin’ of value here. Unless you want a turn with my mother.”
She looks me up and down, trying to be tough, but she's not scaring me. I can see the fear in her soulful, brown eyes. Her long, brown hair is scraped back into a tight ponytail, and she smells of fried food. She's pretty, even though the waitress uniform she’s wearing does nothing to disguise the fact she's all skin and bones.
“Well I ain’t got all day,” she continues her rant and stomps her foot. “You need to be fixin’ to leave.”
I’m not bothered by her words, but the southern drawl grates on my nerves. The open vowel sound of “i”, normally pronounced in the front of the mouth with the front of the tongue, and the “eee” sound, again normally made by pushing the tongue up and forward, both move to the back of the mouth and tongue in a Texan. It makes words such as ‘pen’ and ‘pin’ sound identical.
What the hell was my father thinking?
Has he gone totally insane?
I’ve no idea where I'm even going to begin.
Clearing my throat, I stand up to my full height.
“I'm not fixing to go anywhere, Shelby Jones. As I said, I've come for what’s mine, andthatis you. So be a good girl. Pack a bag of belongings, if you have any, and let's go.”
Her mouth drops open. “Are you fucking nuts or something? I’ve no idea who you are. I'm going nowhere with you. You can fuck off right now.” She spits in my direction, luckily she misses. “Fucking pervert.” I can feel a migraine beginning behind the back of my eyes. Seriously, I don't have time for this. “Well then, fuck off-”
Before she has time to finish her diatribe, I grab her jaw tightly, so she can't speak. “If you say that swear word again, you’ll regret it.” Her eyes go wide with fear. “That’s a much better response. Maybe this won't be so hard after all.”
No.
Wrong.
She brings her knee up quickly, aiming for my groin – big mistake.
I've been trained in martial arts ever since I started to walk. Swinging her around, I send her flying forward into the side of the dilapidated trailer, she calls home, and pin her in place with my muscular body. She has no way of moving now.
“Listen, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. But as I said, I've come to collect what’s mine.Youaremine, and I'm not leaving without you. So grab a bag and let's go.”
“W-Why do you want me?”
She sounds terrified. Her voice quivers with fear. Good. She needs to learn from the start I’ll be the one in charge here, not her.
“It's not that I want you, Shelby. It's moreyoubelong tome. You always have, and now it’s my thirtieth birthday, I'm allowed to collect you.”
I can feel her heartbeat against my body. It's rapid. I just wish the smell of stale restaurant odor wasn't lingering, because there’s something about having her pinned to the trailer wall that excites me.
“How can I belong to you? I've never even met you before. You've gotten the wrong person. I live in a trailer, and I'm bettin’ from the fancy suit you're wearing you don't.”
