Page 43 of Virginity Sold

Elena

She doesn’t put her arms around me, but I don’t care. I squeeze her tight. That is until she pushes me off of her, sending me crashing to the floor.

“Get off of me, bitch. Where have you been? The fucking landlord was by today. Said you ain’t paid the rent,” she snarls venomously.

“You took the money, Mama. I couldn’t,” I remind her, tears in my eyes that she’s blaming me.

“Well, well, well,” a deep voice sings out. It's one I know all too well from my dreams. No, not dreams, nightmares.

My head jerks toward his voice and my body tenses. I scoot back quickly until my back hits the wall and cover my head with my hands cowering. I'm instantly transported back in time, feeling like a little girl again.

Please God, let me be dreaming. Don’t let that be him.

“Would you look at this, Sally Anne. Seems our sweet little girl has been holding out on us.” When I look up, I find him squatting in front of the bags I dropped. He’s unzipped one and some of the money toppled out. He picks up a bound brick of cash and thumbs through the bills.

“NO!” I scream. “That’s mine!” I crawl quickly toward him, taking hold of the straps to the bags and try pulling them to me, but it does no good. He rears back and punches me in the face, a crunching sound reverberating through the room as a warm liquid gushes from my nose.

“No, little brat, it’s mine. What’s that saying, Sally Anne?”

My mother steps over to him, glaring down at my broken form as I sob into my hands.

“Looks to me like she’s been whoring herself and keeping the money for herself. How else would she get two bags full of money like that?” She bends down to pick up my purse and opens it. “Let’s see what she’s hiding in here.”

She begins to rummage through my bag, which holds nothing but my phone and wallet. At most, I probably have like twenty dollars.

“What’s this?” She drops my purse to the floor, holding a piece of paper and a card in her hand.

“I don’t know,” I manage to choke out.

My father stomps down on the hand that’s holding my body up, and I scream as pain courses through my arm, straight to my neck. He adds more to the mix as he twists his boot on my hand like he’s putting out a cigarette.

“Don’t sass your mother. What’s that you got?” He moves closer to my mother as she shows him what is in her hand. Whatever His eyes go wide as his fists clench at his sides. “You lying, little cunt.”

Before I know what’s happening, something slams into my stomach, sending me rolling over. I can’t even catch my breath to say anything, to tell him I have no clue what he’s talking about.

I try to get up, but I’m hit again. My mind goes back to being that scared little girl hiding in the closet. I need to be her again, invisible, blocking out all the pain.

Retreating deep in my mind, I black out everything, replacing it with memories of this weekend. Of the three men who treated me with kindness, well until I overheard I was nothing but a paid whore. But being that is better than what’s happening to me now.

Voices try to break into my peaceful sanctuary, but I push them away.

The pain is still there, but it becomes easier to tolerate, like it’s a part of me. Or maybe I’m too broken to feel it. Eventually, my secret world grows dim, the borders closing into darkness like an old film that’s reached the end until there’s nothing.

I’m at peace.

My body sways, as rushed voices call out things I can’t make out.

An irritating beeping noise assaults my ears, causing my head to pound.

No, I need to go back to my happy place. This hurts too bad.

I try to move my arms to cover my head, but can’t. I can’t move anything.

I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.

Then there’s blackness.

Beep… Beep… Beep…

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