Page 17 of Betraying Bexley

“S-Sorry.” She folded her hands on her lap. “W-What d-day is it?”

“Saturday,” Alé answered. “Don’t worry, Mr. Aquino brought your assignments by.”

“S-Saturday?” Her lip trembled. Terror pushed back any hunger she might have. Even if no one had been around, someone would come looking for her sooner or later and when they found her, she’d get a beating worse than she’d received from The Bitches. “I need to g-go.”

“Hey.” Alé slipped into the chair beside her and took her hand. “You’re safe here. I promise. I know this whole thing is weird. But, you’re in good hands.”

“N-No, you d-don’t understand. M-My f-father.”

“Ah, you’re awake.” An older man joined them. “It’s good to finally meet you, Bex. I’m Jamie. Their foster dad.”

Foster dad? She stared at the middle-aged man who didn't look a day over thirty-five. He was bald, had a goatee, and didn't have a muscular build, but stout, almost like a bulldog, which if she thought about it, was a rude way to describe the man, yet also fitting. He wore a black T-shirt and grey jeans along with a pair of Adidas.

She swallowed hard. “H-Hi.”

“I was just telling Bex she was safe here,” Alé said. “She’s worried about her father finding out she’s missing.”

“Oh.” Jamie nodded. “Would you like to call him?”

She whimpered. No, calling her father would get her into trouble too. “N-No. I s-should b-be going.”

“Eat, mija,” Jamie murmured. “If you leave now, you’ll only make yourself sick.”

She had been three days without food. “Okay.” Though she hated to admit it, knowing her luck, she’d be walking home and pass out because of it. It might also mean messing up whatever tweaks and fixes Bronx had made to her leg.

"When you're done eating, Alé can bring you home." Jamie placed a plate of food in front of her. It was stacked with pancakes, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Her stomach growled with interest and Jamie chuckled. "At least your appetite is there."

She nodded. “I c-can w-walk.” Bex poured some syrup on her pancakes then her sausage. She’d seen a girl in a restaurant do it once while she walked to school one morning, and wondered how it would taste.

“I don’t mind,” Alé said. “Besides if your father is worried, I can let him know what happened and assure him you were taken care of.”

Her stomach soured. “N-No. N-Not good.” She fisted her hands under the table. “He’ll b-be m-mad. I s-should go.”

“Hey, why don’t we all take a minute here,” Bronx said. “She’s hungry, but every time you press her, you’re making her sick.”

Bex deflated, relieved someone could say how she was feeling. “T-Thank y-you.”

“Sorry,” Alé murmured. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole.”

“Same, mija,” Jamie added. “You deserve to enjoy your meal. Listen, if you change your mind, Alé will give you a ride home.”

“Dad...” Bronx frowned.

The man lifted his hands in defeat. “Message received loud and clear.”

Bronx elbowed her. “I’ve got your back.”

Irrational fear, a persistent abnormal feeling relating to a situation that compelled a person to stay away. Bex memorized that definition for times like these. She stared at the doors leading to the high school, a cold sweat broke out along her brow and her top lip while her feet were cemented in place.Stupid, you should have stayed home another day.She could have, when she returned to the apartment, there were sacks of non-perishable food waiting on her. She’d almost been too scared to enter her apartment. What if her father waiting for her in the kitchen? Instead, the place was empty as always. So, who brought her the food?

After leaving Alé’s home, or at least she believed it was his place, she went by the dry cleaner and found the building had been shuttered. There was a for sale sign in the window and all of the clothes were gone off the track system. It’d been like her father didn’t exist nor did his business. She also checked the area where Julian frequented and found no trace of him either.

Nothing made sense to her.

Bex glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see her bodyguards, but as usual, they weren’t there. Hadn’t been for weeks. What was she missing? Had something happened and no one told her? Did she matter so little to people, they could walk out of her life without at least a fuck off? She snorted to herself. Rhetorical question. She should have known better. No one cared about— No, she couldn’t say no one. People did care, it appeared, but it was superficial. When they got to know her, for real, they’d walk away too.

“Morning,” Alé murmured, coming up beside her. “You’re going to be late standing out here. Ready to go inside?”

She gave a curt nod. “Y-Yes.”

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