Page 57 of Wicked Dove
Prying my eyes open, I feel a single tear slip through my lashes, and I sigh.
Time’s up.
I can save my daydreaming for when I need to help myself fall asleep tonight. For now, I need to keep on surviving. Besides, there’s hope for me today since I’m meeting Walker soon. As long as no one realizes I skipped school, it will be fine.
A knock on the trailer door jolts me just as I swing my blanket off. Ignoring it, I remain frozen in place, waiting for whoever it is to go away. My parents aren’t home, and I shouldn’t be either, so once they take the hint, I can get myself ready. Another knock comes moments later, sharper this time, so much so that I hold my breath, hoping that helps, but with every thump of my pulse in my ears, worry threatens to get the better of me.
The last thing I need is for my father to find out I’m here and not at school. Not that he cares about my education, it’s just another reason for him to be mad.
Thankfully, after the third knock, a good five minutes go by without another sound, confirming the coast is clear. Swinging my legs over the side of the small, ratty bed, I push to my feet when the door suddenly bursts open, and I yelp.
The stench of cigarettes fills my lungs as a man charges into the trailer. His nostrils are flared as he sneers at me, darkness dancing in his jet-black eyes.
“Where is your father?” he snarls, not bothering to look around the trailer for the man himself.
I shake my head, panic leaving me frozen in place. “I don’t know.”
“He owes me,” he snaps, slamming the trailer door shut behind him as he takes a step toward me, and I gulp.
I have no idea who he is, but the leather jacket he’s wearing with a sword-pierced heart on the sleeve tells me he’s part of The Heartbreakers. They run the gambling scene, so it’s no surprise that my father owes them money.
“I’ll let him know,” I mutter, wrapping my arms tight around my middle, and he snickers, but it’s far from humorous. If anything, it’s a promise of danger.
He shakes his head as he takes another step toward me and I stumble back, my legs hitting the bed frame behind me, but I manage to stay on my feet.
“Nah, maybe you can repay his debt instead,” he says with a smirk, and I shake my head as my hands tremble.
“I don’t have any money.”
He lifts his hand, pressing his thumb against my chin as he forces my head back an inch to meet his gaze. “It’s not money I’m after.”
The air lurches from my lungs, stealing my next breath as he shoves against me. My back hits the flimsy mattress beneath me, knocking the remaining air from my lips. My eyes bug out, my back arching off the bed in pain as I feel the press of his knee beside me, making the mattress dip.
That one feeling, that one understanding of what’s to come, sets me into action.
I shove at his chest with all of my strength, but it does little to deter him as he swings his other leg over me, closing me in. I don’t bother to waste energy screaming; no one would come if I did. Instead, I buck my legs, desperate to make contact as he grabs my wrists and pins them down above my head with one of his meaty hands.
Rage courses through me as he snags at the collar of my t-shirt, the sound of rending fabric tearing through my heart. He outweighs me, there’s no doubt about it, but I refuse to give in.
Not that he seems to get the memo, as he doubles his efforts, grabbing at the waistband of my pajama pants. I scream this time, the sound and panic instinctive, even though I know no one will be alerted by it, but it fuels me with a surge of strength and I manage to slip a hand free from his tight hold.
I claw at his face, hating the feel of his hiss against my cheek as I dig them in deeper, snapping my teeth at him, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I will bite the hell out of him if I get the chance. I should realize what’s coming when his hand is gone from my waist, but it’s only when he smacks me across the face that I consider any form of consequences for my actions.
“You’re going to pay for that, bitch,” he snarls, red marks tracking down his face as my cheek pulses from his touch.
There’s no stopping it, no denying it, but I can’t bring myself to succumb to it.
Staring into his bleak eyes, fear coils tight around my throat as I brace myself. I can’t look. His features are already burned into me for all of eternity, so I close my eyes, tears spilling from the corners of my lashes as I try to resist, then he’s suddenly…gone.
There’s no dip beside me on the flimsy mattress, no meaty hand around my wrist, no nauseating scent of stale smoke engulfing me.
Scared, I dare myself to pry one eyelid open, and when I do, I’m looking up at an angel.
Walker.
I startle awake, heart ricocheting in my chest as sweat clings to every inch of me. Glancing around, I quickly realize I’m in my bed, and Ocean is passed out in hers.
I’m safe. Well, safer, I guess.
