Page 49 of Then Came You

I bang my head down on the table. “What the fuck am I going to do?” I huff. I see pity dwell in Alex’s eyes as we both come to the same silent conclusion that I can do absolutely nothing.

The rest of the day went at a snail's pace, and my foul mood was only enhanced when I realised I would be the one that would have to drop her phone off since Zee didn’t know where she lived.

He mentioned he’d met Tori, but never their Mum, and logically, why would he have? It wasn’t like they grew up together. They were adults and had their own lives.

The whole situation infuriates me because it meant that meeting Row was literally serendipitous.

Chapter 21

Row

I threw myself onto him, and he threw me out.

I not only broke my promise to Xan, but I compromised Blade’s very relationship with his son, and as a bonus, sexually assaulted him in his own workplace. What was I thinking?

Humiliated and in a haste, I was pretty sure I dropped my phone on the way out of Blade’s office. I fled so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had mistaken me for the Flash.

The only place I could think to go to pass the time was the hospital. Tori was in an induced coma, but I could still sit by her bedside, so that’s what I did for the rest of the day, until I got kicked out because visiting hours were over.

I don’t want to go home, but where else would I go?

Mum has been erratic more than usual, like the cocktail of drugs she snorts or injects has brought on a particularly bad bout of psychosis.

I shudder at the thought of the frigid temperature for tonight’s forecast. We might not have heat inside the house, but we have a blanket. My plan is to grab it and curl up on the nearest park bench I can find. Anything is better than being in that house.

Seeing Mum sober is a rarity these days, but I’m too physically and mentally drained to care anymore. Once I have enough money to swing a one-bedroom rental, Tori and I are gone.

I trudge through the door in my bleary weary state from a lack of eating and emotional exhaustion, and immediately retch from the vile stench emanating from the living room. I glance around to see someone had defecated on the ripped carpeted floor, further staining it. There is a puddle of vomit with chunks of meat seeping further into it, and more drugs than a Mexican mule scattered around.

In the middle of it all is the woman who gave birth to me sitting on Shane’s lap, fucking her one way, while some guy I’ve never seen before is going to town another way. He looks menacing with a burly belly and long greasy hair, which keeps whipping his back the more he thrusts in. Her drugged-out moans sound like a dying cat.

Blanket. I need the blanket and then I’ll get the fuck out.

In my fatigued state of mind, I foolishly hope no one hears me walk in, but I’m not that lucky, remember?

The minute I walk two metres inside the rickety squeaky door, all heads snap in my direction.

“Who’s this cunt?” the unidentified man asks. He has a jagged scar across his cheek, and his teeth are decayed. He pounds Mum harder for her answer.

“That’s one of my biggest mistakes.” She thrusts up into him. “Gentle on my ass, Rooster.” Shane grunts and digs his nails into her hips harder.

“I want her.” The disgusting beast eyes me in a terrifyingly carnal way.

I’m halfway to the bedroom, but not close enough to escape out the front door, so I sprint to my room, barge the door open, and shut it behind me, giving me at least a ten-second start to grab the blanket and leap out the shattered window.

As I climb over the fragmented pieces, splitting the skin on my ribs open, I’m dragged by my ankle. My head thumps on the hardened floor, and I’m choking on the wind that was knocked out of me. I’m in searing pain being dragged by my legs, my back scraping, causing carpet burn. The mattress I’ve slept on for years is kicked out of the way, leaving an unobstructed path to the main living area. The hulk before me is even more putrid up close. He’s chode of a cock swinging limplessly, half covered by his protruding belly that’s covered in thick curly hair. He has crust in his belly button, and he reeks of vomit and vodka.

“Help,” I wail before the bulky stranger muzzles me with his dirty hand. I kick and claw at him, but it’s no use, he’s stronger than me. My chipped nails claw into his face, scrape his eyeballs, and dig into his neck. He’s blindingly infuriated.

His body lands on mine in a thud.

He slaps my cheek so hard, it’ll leave a bruise instead of a mark. “Oh, you’re a little spitfire, aren’t you, you filthy whore? Just like your slut of a mother.” He lets go of my mouth to wrangle my hands over my head. I hock as much saliva as I can and spit in his face, earning me a punch in my left eye. I scream again, but with the blaring sirens outside - the police no doubt attending to another crime around here - no one but us can hear me. I knee him in the crotch, making him maniacal. His fist connects with my face over and over until my ears are ringing. My body goes lax, and I faintly feel his hands wander further down.

He’s going to rape me.

My efforts to stop this from happening are futile.

Someone comes up behind him, holding my legs down with such force, it feels like they’re hammering into my bones. From the slits of my eyes, I can see him snorting another hit that’s offered to him by none other than my mother, who is leering over me with a sinister smile on her face.

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