Authors: Lauren Hammond
And that’s when I hear it.
The car door slamming shut, followed by, “God, damn it, Adelaide! Where the fuck are you? Is my dinner ready?”
“Oh no!” I gasp and yank my underwear back up around my waist. “I have to go!” I hop to my feet and smooth down my dress. “I’m coming, Daddy!” I shout.
I take a step and Damien grips my wrist. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “You don’t have to go.”
I yank my arm away. “I do. You don’t understand.”
Tears pool in my eyes as I run away from Damien and I suck them back because I don’t want Daddy to ask me why I’ve been crying. I also hope that Damien doesn’t get to see how Daddy acts when he’s been drinking and by the sound of his voice, I can already tell he’s had his fair share of Jose today before he came home. I don’t make it all the way because at some point during the run to Daddy I’m so out of breath and so emotional that I hit my knees and sob into my hands.
There’s too much pressure on me and I’ve hit my breaking point. My father is a drunk asshole. My boyfriend’s mother doesn’t like me. My mother abandoned me. The love of my life is leaving me at the end of the summer. It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. I hunch over and grip my sides tightly to keep the sobs from vibrating in my chest. I try to breathe. I try to calm myself down, but nothing seems to be working.
Then I hear, “Girl, what the hell is the matter with you?”
My blood runs cold. Fear unfurls in my gut. The tears immediately leave my eyes.
Oh no. Daddy has found me.
I clear my throat and keep my head down. “Nothing Daddy.”
Daddy is a big man. At least six feet four inches tall. Thick bulky arms. A bulging beer gut. Strong manly hands. He looms over me, casting a shadow over my thin petite body. “Nothing my ass.”
Before I can react he lunges for me, grips me by the hair at my crown, and starts dragging me through the field to the house. Pain blossoms in my scalp like daggers are stabbing me repeatedly and I shriek out in agony as he drags me up each one of the porch steps. I swat at his hand, trying to get him to loosen his grip, but he tightens it and I cry out harder.
At the front door, he still has me by the hair, but the tension in my scalp has lessened because I’m able to plant my feet firmly on the wooden porch. I open my eyes and turn my head to see Damien face red with fury, jaw clenched, fists balled up at his sides, as he storms toward us.
There’s panic in my eyes and worry in my heart. I wooden my eyes and shake my head. Then I mouth, “No don’t.”
Damien isn’t listening, he breaks out into a jog and I scream at the top of my lungs, “DON’T!”
Then he slows, coming to a halt and even from where I’m standing I can see the tears glistening in his eyes. It looks like there’s an internal struggle going on inside of him on whether he should listen to me or not. His lip quivers and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He starts toward us again. I shake my head and mouth, “I love you.” At the same time, Daddy releases his hand from my hair and clumps of it fall out at my feet.
With wobbly knees, I stand, feet planted firmly into the wooden porch then my eyes meet Damien’s as Daddy plants his heel into the small of my back and kicks me through the front door.
Chapter 11
~AFTER~
I wake up screaming.
Then my screams go up an octave and I start shrieking. “Don’t touch me!” I’m out of my cot and on my feet. “Don’t touch me!”
I bolt for the door and pry it open, breaking out into the hall, running toward the utility closet. Damien is there, he told me to meet him and I forgot. I’d fallen asleep and forgot. But if he’s still there, he’ll know exactly what to do to make me feel better. He’ll know exactly what to say. He always does. He always will.
More shrieking.
I have this vision of Daddy in my mind. He’s removing his belt and I’m cowering in the corner of the kitchen. “No! Daddy! No!” I shut my eyes as tight as I can. “Make him stop! Make him stop!”
Footsteps thunder behind me and muffled voices fill up the quiet hall. Someone shouts, “Where is she?”
Another voice is added to the equation, “Tell us where she is, damn it!”
Aurora replies in a full hysterical, nut job facade, “
I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Stop yelling at me! Stop yelling at me!
”
I’m almost at the utility closet, I can practically feel the cool metal handle in my grasp. I can feel the iciness shooting through my skin and chilling me. I’m so close. So very, very close. My arm juts out, my fingers outstretched. A few more inches. Now centimeters.
I don’t make it.
From my left, someone barrels into my side like a defensive end in a football game and tackles me. I swat at them and kick, still screaming and struggle to get away. I make it a few feet before they tackle me again. “Let me go!” Their arms tighten around my shoulders and their legs wrap around mine. “Let me go!”
The thundering stops. “Hand her over.” My sobbing is intense so I can barely hear the people surrounding me. But I know the person who said
hand her over
is Marjorie.
I sob harder, so hard I can’t breathe. There’s an argument going on in front of me and I already know what’s going to happen. It’s like I’m waiting for the jab of the needle. Waiting to feel the drugs that I loathe work their way through my nervous system and cloud my judgment. Waiting for them to subdue my subconscious mind and let me drift off into the darkness.
But there is never a jab from the needle.
There are no drugs swimming in my veins.
Instead, everything goes quiet, then the voices fade away and I’m being lifted off the ground by a pair of arms. The person is carrying me. My eyelids flutter and I tuck my head in between the person’s neck and shoulder blade. Tears blur my vision, but I can make out the profound jawline, and a toasted almond patch of skin. Damien. It has to be.
No one else would rescue me.
Take care of me.
Worry about me.
No one else would follow me across the state, just to be near me.
“You saved me,” I whisper into the curve of his neck.
“Of course I saved you.” His lips press against my forehead. “I will always save you. I love you that much.”
My heart has grown wings. They flutter in my chest cavity, sending gusts of air swirling through my lungs. I try to speak, but my tongue is swollen. I think I might have bit down on it during my midnight flight so I mumble, “I love you too,” instead. I’m not sure if the words come out coherent, but I’m guessing they’re not when I get no response from Damien.
The lights in the hall flicker. An eerie silence sets in. The quiet swallows Damien and I whole and pretty soon the only thing I can hear is his heartbeat. I nuzzle closer and rest my ear against his defined peck. His heart thunders. Pounding. Hammering. It reminds me of that one deadly beat of the drum that an executioner plays before someone is beheaded. Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m thinking this. That maybe Damien is going to get in trouble for coming to my rescue. Or that maybe my relationship with him has been doomed from the start.
My body goes limp at some point, but I’m still partly lucid. I can feel myself being lowered onto a cot and I can feel Damien as he lies down in bed with me, snuggling up next to me. His hand slips over my waist. His soft breaths sound off rhythmically in my ears as he rests his face into the crook of my neck and breathes into my hair. Finally I completely give myself over to the pull of exhaustion, shutting everything else out.
~ ~ ~
It’s dark in my head.
And out of the blackness comes a vision.
There’s a man whose face is blurry, but just from his presence I can tell there is a gentleness about him. A gentleness that keeps me calm. Keeps me sane. A gentleness that fills me up with hope and love and happiness. His fingers skim my bare skin as he fiddles with my bra strap. His hands are warm. He kisses my shoulder blade, “I’ve missed you beautiful,” he tells me in a deep, soothing voice, his moist lips against my shoulder blade.
I respond with a smile and, “I’ve missed you too.”
He grazes my skin with his teeth and the titillating feeling sends a thousand sparks surging through my nerve endings. Then his lips are everywhere. In my hair. Against my ear. On my collarbone. Every part of me smolders as a passionate feeling embarks on a journey to my heart.
I look down. My clothes are gone. And I can’t remember if I’ve been naked during this entire fantasy-like dream or if at some point the man in front of me ripped them off because he’s naked too. I still can’t see his face, but I reach up and trace his taut jawline before trailing my fingers down his hard, muscled chest. He growls, and I revel in the ravenous and hungry sound that just left his throat. It’s not an angry and menacing growl. It’s a growl of pleasure. A growl of want.
“Come closer,” he beckons and motions with his finger.
I’m on top of something flat. The surface is smooth, slick, and the coolness of it reverberates through my pores and mixes in with the burning desire simmering in my veins and sends jolts of hot and cold plummeting through every nook and cranny of my body. I start to shimmy to the edge of the surface, still unsure of what I’m lying on, but the man at the edge is needy. I’m not moving fast enough for him.
He shoots his arms out with a groan and grips my waist with force. His fingers bite into my flesh as he presses down harder and slides me so close to him that our bodies are almost connected. Then he hovers over me, twirls a strand of my black hair around his finger, pulls my face close to his, and breathes into my ear, “That’s better, gorgeous.” His lips graze my lower earlobe and his warm breath trails down the nape of my neck. There’s a force building up inside of me that I need to let out. My legs tremble. My skin is on fire. I swallow a loud groan stuck in my throat to keeping myself from screaming his name.
But that’s impossible.
I can’t scream his name because his face is still blurred in my vision so I have no idea who he is.
My heart is telling me it’s Damien but my mind is telling me it’s not.
He grabs my chin and jerks my face towards his. I wish I could see him. I wish could gaze into his eyes and get lost there because I can feel them on my skin. I can feel the wicked way they’re devouring my body. Suddenly he smothers my lips with his and I become so wrapped up with the way his tongue is teasing mine that I forget my name. What I’m doing. The part of me that has been questioning who this man is.
He shoves me back onto the smooth surface and my back hits it, hard. The blunt force almost knocks the wind out of my lungs and I stare up at this strange man who is ravishing me with wide eyes. He’s rough. And I’m surprised—mostly at myself—by how much I like it. I struggle to find words. My breathing is shallow. Unsteady. Finally I manage, “What are you doing?”
The man lets out a pleasureful yet hungry sigh and trails his fingers down the length of my body. Goosebumps arise and I arch my back in response to his touch. There’s a throaty groan rumbling in my ears and I’m not sure if he is making that sound or if I am. He hooks his arm through the curve of my back as he crawls onto the surface with me. Then he pulls me into his lap, gently licks my lips, and tucks a piece of my loose hair behind my ear.
This man does something crazy to me. Blurred face and all. I’m at the point where I don’t care who he is. I don’t care where we are or if this might only be a dream. All I want is for him to lie me down on this surface and make sweet, sweet, love to me. I want him to set my heart ablaze. Send me into a passionate oblivion. And turn my world upside down.
He’s being gentle now. Touching my face. Brushing his lips against mine. His mouth tastes like honey and I want to swallow it. Guzzle it down by the jarful I pull away from him and his fingers grip my chin. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice is light-hearted. Amused.
“You never answered my question,” I tell him.
“Remind me again,” he whispers into my ear before tracing my jawline with his teeth, “what was it?”
I lie flat and he hovers on top of me, spreading my legs with a gentle push. I run my fingers through his hair and something feels off. He answers my question when he thrusts inside of me and lies down on top of me. Our legs intertwined. Breathing raspy. Bodies sticky with heat and moisture.
He moves inside of me. At first it’s slow and I hike my legs up in response when his hips melt into mine. Then he positions his lips over top of mine and breathes into my mouth, “I’m going to fuck you, Adelaide.”
I can’t respond because the way his hips are grinding against mine send me into a frenzy of a delicious pleasure so intense all I can do is moan.
“Would you like that, Adelaide?” he asks.
My reply is a moan.
His thrusts quicken and I bite my lip, crying out. I’m so twisted, so lost, so racked with passion that it feels like it’s about to explode inside of me. My eyes center on this man’s chest as he becomes more forceful and my body begins sliding across the surface of the object I’m on. Realization hits me. It doesn’t matter what my heart was telling me because no I know this man is not Damien.
Damien has a tiny scar just below his left shoulder blade. This man doesn’t. Damien has a small patch of hair along his breast bone. This man’s chest is soft and smooth and the only hair he has is a happy trail down the length of his stomach.
He hunches over me, clinging to me, breathing into my ear, pressing his lips to mine. And thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. There’s a huge debate sounding off inside of my head. Part of me keeps wondering what the hell I’m doing. A voice keeps hissing at me,
How could you do this to Damien?
He’d never do this to you. But there’s another bigger part of me that’s screaming,
don’t fight it. Let go. If this was wrong it wouldn’t feel so right.
The man on top of me grunts out my name with another deep thrust and I gasp out in a highpitched voice as I dig my nails into his back. Suddenly I feel like I’m hovering over a deep ravine, looking down, trying to locate the bottom. Someone pushes me. I fall. My limbs flail. Waves of fear slosh around in my belly. At the same time a free, liberating feeling whips through me and even though I’m plummeting downward faster and faster I feel like I’m being thrust upward. I feel like I’m flying.