Page 7 of Trapped By the Bratva

I made the money, and Melissa… did nothing. She wasn’t handicapped or disabled. She wasn’t stupid or illiterate. In short, she was lazy and selfish, using me all these years.

Just leave. Run and start over somewhere new.

That made it worse, knowing I was stuck in an abusive relationship and feeling like I had nowhere to go. If I left, I’d need to have a credit report and references, and I had none.

Becca would have been a great reference.All my other babysitting gigs had ended far too soon because Melissa always snuck in to steal shit from their homes.

I shook my head, rolling it on the pillow as I stared up at the ceiling. Going through these moody, depressive spiels wasn't fun. As a rule, I tried to be both as optimistic and pragmatic as possible, but sometimes, those felt like the silliest oxymoron.

But I have no clue where she is.

Closing my eyes, I thought back to how I’d watched Emily for her. She was always tired and overworked, just like me, and that kinship had always made me feel closer to her.

I hope she’s safe and happy.Which was the opposite of my situation. Only when I was in Becca’s apartment, taking care of Emily, did I feel peaceful and content. It stung to know it was all a sham. I was only there for a job. She’d hired me to spend time in her home with her baby. I hadn’t actually “belonged” there, but while I was with Emily and tidying the apartment, I felt like it was my home away from home.

I should’ve tried to find out what happened to her and Emily.

After the night when someone rushed in to kidnap Emily, I got a text that said the baby was safe and sound with her. Beccahad updated me only with that much, a one-time message, even attaching a picture of the smiling little girl, but that was from weeks ago. Months, even. It’d been so long since I’d been ripped out of that pretend homelife. Yet, the ache of losing it still hurt. It was the closest I’d come to mattering, to being a part of something bigger than my own existence and productive worth.

“Hannah! Get the door!” The music didn’t stop, and Melissa’s fist pounding on the wall added too much noise.

“Fuck. You,” I grumbled as I rolled over to smash a pillow over my head.

Eventually, despite the noise, I fell asleep. It was a miracle that I’d managed to tune out the loudness, but then again, my body could only stay running on fumes for so long.

“What the hell…?” I rubbed my face, confused and alarmed with the pounding in my heart.

I’d been dreaming—again—ofhim. The guy who’d rushed after Emily when she was taken. The rugged, tall man with dark hair and glittering green eyes who’d startled me when I woke from being hit on the back of my head.

I thought of him often, especially when I had downtime at work or when I was idle and not concentrating. I dreamed of him, too. Whether I was awake or not, he was burned into my mind.

“Who are you?” I wondered aloud as I tried to snuggle back into bed and get comfortable enough to fall asleep again.

I had no name. All I remembered was the strength in his arms as he helped me up. The firm, raspy timbre of his voice as he ordered me to calm down. The forced patience he showed when he insisted that I would not need to babysit Emily anymore.

I furrowed my brows. Sleep wouldn’t come back to me. Now, I was wide awake with thoughts of him, but this time, I pondered the abrupt mystery of it all.

He’d told me not to contact the police, and at first, I readily agreed because I assumed he meant that Becca would handle talking to the police. Her father was a member of the NYPD, and if she needed to report anything, surely, she would’ve gone to him.

“But why did you tell me to forget about it all?”

The mystery man had said those words to me, ordering me to forget about what happened.

“Forget you ever saw me.”He’d spoken that exact order, and it seemed like it’d become something of a reverse psychology experiment. Because he told menotto remember him, I did. Because he’d declared that incident and his presence there something I should dismiss, I couldn’t.

Instead, I fantasized about hearing his comforting tone. I wished for his strong arms to wrap around my back and guide me to lean on his hard body.

I couldn’t forget anything about him. I didn’t want to, either.

“Oh, yes,” Melissa moaned in the next room.

I groaned. Covering my head with the pillow didn’t muffle the sounds, but I squeezed my eyes shut tight and prayed for her to just be quiet.

I wasn’t a prude, but I didn’t want to be reminded of my lack of a love life.

When would I ever have time to meet any guys?I huffed a bitter laugh.

Even if I did, would I compare them tohim?

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