He leaves me in a battered heap, coughing up blood and gripping my ribs to try and stop the pain that’s radiating through me. He threw punches and kicked and stomped on me until I’d begged him to stop. Not one of my finest moments but at that point in time, I didn’t care. It’s all about self-preservation now, dying doesn’t scare me, it’s whatever he has planned for me before it comes to the end that does. After all, it takes more courage to suffer than to die. And I’m not about to give in easily.
I wince as I push up off the floor into a sitting position, my knee screaming at me, and pull at my bound ankles trying to break free from the cable ties still around them. But they just cut into my skin the harder I pull, and I scream in frustration. Shuffling back against the wall, I drop my legs as I realize I haven’t got the strength to break it off. I wish I had my boots on, I know a trick to get cable ties off with just a shoe lace.
I try to swallow down the lump in my throat, but it just burns with how dry it is. My head pushes back into the wall and I grit my teeth, wishing I could just melt into it and escape from this reality. Away from the dingy, dirty gray four walls that will forever hold the last of my dignity between them as I realize I need to use the bathroom.
I try to hold it in but an hour later, I’m about ready to burst and I shuffle over to the corner and place myself over the bucket, feeling humiliated. There’s nothing to wipe myself with so I just have to deal with it and pull my shorts back up clumsily.
My eyes dart to the dirty mattress, there’s no way I’m going anywhere near that nevermind sleeping on it. I can smell the stench of it from here so I slide down the wall and shut my eyes, shivering as the coldness of the cement floor seeps into my bones.
I don’t know how long it’s been before I hear a clang against the door, but I startle and realize I must’ve drifted off.
Terror. Disgust. It’s kind of a toss up when you wake up covered in blood with every single body part screaming at you in pain.
I try not to move and lean my head back against the wall, watching him out of my good eye. He walks over and places a bottle of water and a plastic box in front of me.
“Don’t say I never give you anything,” he sneers, before slamming the door shut behind him.
With hardly any light in the room, I squint to see what’s in the box, it looks like food and my stomach rumbles at the thought. I pick up the bottle of water and test the lid, it’s not been opened yet so I tug on it and feel the coolness wet my parched throat as I drink it down.
I wonder if anyone will be looking for me? Probably not. My heart aches at the thought. As soon as morning comes around, someone will notice the state of the shop and call the cops, right?
The thought of Sam getting the call about the salon and apartment has my heart in my mouth, and I can’t even think about eating whatever’s in the box. I feel sick at being the cause of her heartache and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. Connor will make sure she’s cared for, the only saving grace in the situation.
I desperately want to speak to her one last time, tell her how much she’s changed my life just by being her. We were two lost souls that were comforted in the fact that we had each other. Now it’s Connor’s turn to be that for her.
I pull my knees up to my chest and fold my arms across them, wincing at the pain in my knee and ribs as I rest my forehead against my arms.
I’m so drunk I can’t even make it back to my room, but I had a hell of a time catching up with Smokey. I watch as he stumbles into the wall on his way out of the common area, and I move to flop down onto one of the sofa’s in here, throwing my feet up. I’ll just sleep here, as long as I don’t puke, no one will mind.
It’s handy I live here, I think to myself as I sigh. I moved into the clubhouse after my mom died two years ago, I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same house without her.
The main door opens interrupting my thoughts, and I pretend to be asleep, not wanting to talk to anyone. I hear someone fumbling about behind the bar and decide to sneak a look at whoever it is. It’s Taz and I don’t think he’s noticed me yet, so I decide to stay quiet. I can’t throw myself up off this sofa never mind throw a punch right now and that’s exactly what he’ll be looking for. He grabs a bottle of something and walks toward the hallway where our rooms are. I hear a door slam and that’s my cue to let myself pass out.
The smell of fresh liquor hits my face and I gag.
“Woah, don’t puke on me!” I hear someone say.
“What the fuck you doing waking me up!” I try to shout, but it just sounds like a loud whisper.
“Pop wants to see you at the house,” they say matter-of-factly.
I open an eye and squint at my brother who has a glass of jack in his hands and from the smell on his breath, he’s already started drinking.