“Is this what you were talking about when you said you had something for me, Chasen?” I scowl and point at his two dipshit friends. “’Cause if it was, all three of you can fuck off!” My voice echoes down the street.
“Come on, baby,” Spiked hair coos, strutting forward and slapping my ass, hard. My backside burns from the unsought connection, the sting racing up my spine.
“Stop it!” I scream, jerking away from him. My voice echoes up the street, but nobody is around to hear my cries. My hands shake with anger, and my eyes well with unshed tears. My hands fist by my sides in fury. I want to deck every one of their asses. But looking at them, I’m starting to second-guess my impulse to take them on. They’re all built, probably working the weight room daily for football. My fight here is pointless. I’m fucked.
“Chasen, brother, get your whore in check,” Buzz scolds, pointing at me.
“I’m not a whore!” I seethe, tears spilling down my cheeks.
They all laugh, making me vibrate with rage and choke with emotion.
“I’m not,” I mutter angrily.
The feelings I had for Chasen were nothing but clueless emotions. Trying to live a teenage dream of love and lust. I thought Chasen was giving me money because he cared, but no.
“I’m pretty sure when someone pays you after they blow their load, that makes you a dirty whore,” Chasen chuckles, the sound vindictive. My body chills and my heart snaps in two. He was paying me for my sordid behavior. I close my eyes, my mind telling me I knew exactly why he was giving me the money. Oh, my God, I have been a whore. And the worst part? I enjoyed it. The dirty journeys behind tractors and in alleyways, and I got paid every time. And I liked it all. Being in control and having the comfort from a man was a high I enjoyed.
I’m. A. Whore.
I shake my head, not believing such a notion.
“No, I am Chasen’s girlfriend,” I defend, tears rolling over my lips. Just saying the word ‘girlfriend’ comes out feeling wrong.
“Chasen has a girlfriend.” Buzz-cut laughs, making my head snap in Chasen’s direction.
“What?” I whisper in disbelief.
“True.” Chasen shrugs. “What – you thought I would be with the likes of you?” He chuckles, staring at me with a raised brow. I look down at myself, my second-hand dress and stolen shoes making me feel like trash.
“Your dad would kill you.” Spiked hair bellows with laughter, catching my attention. I shake my head again, not wanting to believe what I’m hearing. My chest feels shallow from the self-respect being ripped out of my chest.
“I came to you because my girlfriend won’t put out. She’s saving herself for marriage, and girls around here like to blab,” Chasen remarks, tucking a bit of hair behind my ear. I shove him in the chest, completely and utterly pissed-off.
“Fuck you! Don’t touch me!” I shriek. How could I make myself believe this was anything more than being used by Chasen? I’m so stupid.
“You used me,” I seethe, my jaw clenched with anger. Chasen gives a weak attempt at a laugh and cups the back of my head harshly, pulling me forward. He rests his forehead against mine, looking me right in the eye. I try to resist his hold, but he clenches his hand in my hair, making me wince.
“Like you didn’t use me? You took that money without any problem,” he whispers, his breath feathering my face. “Just like a greedy little whore.” He grins wildly. My eyes widen, realization setting in. I am a gluttonous whore. There’s no denying it. The idea of having food and rent was more important than my morals, the high of doing something risqué shadowing over any thought of honor.
Living in care, we didn’t get the love kids grow up with. We didn’t get cuddles on Christmas morning, or kisses on boo-boos when we fell. So to say I’m desperate for that connection is obviously an understatement.
“Come on, baby. Give it up, you fucking tease,” Spiked hair grunts, grabbing my wrists and yanking me from Chasen’s hold. I twist and pull, trying to get away, but it does no good. He turns us and shoves me against a rusty fence placed between two apartment buildings.
“No! Please, stop!” I scream, trying to pull away, but he’s too strong. My attempt of trying to free myself is pointless. My heart drives against my chest in fear, and tears fill my eyes to the point I can barely see. A vision of a woman who looks like me flashes behind my eyes, my mother. Her telling me to hide and not to scream echoes in my head. I close my eyes and shake my head to clear the noise. But my body responds in a way that has me clamping my mouth shut and obeying.
I feel a hand slide through my legs, causing me to clench them together tightly.
“That won’t help you,” a voice whispers into my ear, making the hair on my neck stand up.
Fingers touch the bare skin of my butt cheeks, making me jump and whimper with desperation.