Gnashing his teeth, eyes angry and defined, he scowls at me in pure hatred. He grabs me by the throat and pulls me off the stool, my heels falling from my feet as he lifts me from the floor.
“You know exactly what I am talking about. My father told me Travis’s death was finalized, and that his will goes to you and that kid,” he grits, his fingers digging into my skin painfully, but not enough to limit my breathing. I close my eyes. Grant looking like his brother is bringing back memories.
“You will do as I say if you want to breathe another day, Jessica.” Travis’s voice echoes in my head. Even though it’s Grant’s fingers around my neck, all I feel, all I hear is Travis.
“Do you know the life I have lived because of you?” he asks, disgust evident in his voice. The roughness of his tone breaks me from my familiar stirring, making me open my eyes. “My parents resigned their positions from the board of the hospital and have spent every dime they have on finding Travis. Leaving me on the streets,” he says, eerily calm.
I know he was not one to follow the family’s footsteps in medicine, but why would he live on the streets? It makes no sense that his parents would do that to him. I try to shift my body hoping to touch the floor with my feet to relieve the pressure he has around my throat. I’m able to pull slightly, allowing the tips of my toes to hold some of my weight, letting a rush of fresh air sweep into my lungs.
“Where’s the money?” Grant asks, his voice eerily calm despite his hand clamped around my throat.
“What money?” I choke out, scratching at his arms to let me go, my toes aching from all the weight they’re holding. My eyes find Grant’s that are dilated, and more bloodshot than I thought. I look at his arm and notice track marks. Little beady, black ink spots strike up his arm. He’s a drug addict. His parents throwing him on the street, they aren’t supporting his drug habit, and with him on my doorstep demanding money means one thing. He wants the money from Travis’s will.
“What?” Grant growls, frustrated. I open my mouth to try to speak but only scratching noises come out. He lets go of me, allowing me to fall to the floor. I cough, trying to get all the oxygen I can into my lungs.
“I don’t have it,” I grunt, pulling myself up using the stool.
He turns quickly and backhands me. Staggering back, I somehow remain on my feet, my ears ringing loudly from the contact. I clutch my smarting cheek, heat and pain claiming the delicate flesh as I glare at Grant.
“Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” He turns and smiles a Cheshire grin. Holding his arm up, my eyes land on his hand clutching the collar Travis used to put on me; the one in my shoebox in my closet. My eyes widen and my lungs seize to breathe as I see it.
“What’s wrong? Bring back old memories?” he taunts, stepping toward me, unbuckling it. “Travis told me the things he would do to you in this, brag about it even,” Grant continues, he reaches forward, and slides his fingers along my neck where the collar would imprison me.
“Please, no,” I cry, trying to pull away, but he grabs me by the hair violently. I pull my hand back slapping him across the face as hard as I can. Immediate anger flashes in his eyes as my palm burns from the harsh contact. He thrusts his arm forward to grab hold of me, but I quickly side step him, running around the island in search of anything to protect myself.
“Unless you want to bring pain upon yourself, you will get over here and do as I say,” Grant speaks slowly, his voice reminding me of Travis. In fact, Travis spoke those exact words to me before. My body wants to obey out of fear, the scars on my back a reminder of what would happen if I wouldn’t do as I was told. Fighting the urge, I close my eyes. Bobby instantly appears behind my eyelids, his blue eyes looking at me with longing.
My hair is yanked back, my eyes snapping open. Before I can react, my face is placed against the counter with force. The cool vinyl is fixed around my neck, and I hear it lock into place. My eyes well up with tears as my past rears its ugly head. Everything I have ever tried to forget is happening all over again. In sheer terror, I hyperventilate, my body shivering and struggling to breathe. Once more, I close my eyes, remembering Bobby holding me along my neck as he brought me to pleasure. I exhale a shaky breath as I replace all the painful memories with moments filled of pleasure, calming myself in the process. The look in Bobby’s eyes as he held me. Every sexual encounter I had with him. Every look Bobby ever showcased, now clear as day. Bobby has always loved me and I love him. He was right. I’m just afraid of being hurt; I’ve been trying to protect myself.
“Don’t fear the pain; fear the message behind it,” I mutter. Grant growls in frustration as he grabs my hair with both hands bashing my head into the counter once more, this time knocking me into complete darkness.