Page 23 of Angel

Back then, I remember wishing it would rain every day, just so I could close my eyes and listen. Let it calm me. Relieve the terror. But it hardly rained. I was being punished for absolutely nothing. Maybe for wanting to survive… just to live another damn day. To feel safe, to feel anything other than what I did in that basement. I hated feeling weak. Hated feeling vulnerable. But I’m not weak anymore, and I’m not that same little kid.

Flick. Flick. Flick. I close my eyes, tilt my head back, and listen.

It’s quiet, except for the pounding of each droplet. It’s like I can imagine being somewhere else. Somewhere with a waterfall. Free and alive.

I don’t pray. Mom used to tell me to pray more, but I don’t see the point in it. I used to beg and plead to whatever higher power existed to bring my parents back, but it never happened. They never came back and I still suffered. Suffered, cold and alone.

The rain falls more heavily—faster—as I close my eyes. I soak it in, imagining the sun as if I were a bird, flying above a huge meadow of flowers.

Today is my thirteenth birthday, but there’s no cake, no presents, just darkness. Mom always baked me a peach pie for my birthday every year. It was my favorite, even if the kids at school used to pick on me for it. Who likes peach pie on their birthday?

Maybe one day I can smell that sweet scent again, and it’ll feel like home.

The uneven, splintered wood scrapes under my fingers as I grip the railing tighter. The painful memories will never fade. They will never be forgotten. I miss my parents, even to this day. I wish I had more time with them, but they were taken too soon, leaving me behind to suffer. No one should ever have to endure what I went through as a child. The agonizing abuse. I was foolish to believe my foster parents were ever good people.

Something shiny reflects in the distance. I follow its location to the side of a large shrub, where Angel’s car had been parked. There, tucked away and hidden from the rain, is a cell phone—no denying it was strategically placed.

I kneel down, shuffling it into the palm of my hand. I know it’s Angel’s. I’ve seen her with it before.

Just what are you hiding?

EIGHT

Angel

The rain beats down on my windshield with enough force to shatter the glass. At least it seems that way at the moment. I can barely see between sweeps of the wipers, but it’s not enough to block out the expensive black Mercedes parked on the side of the motel. The same spot—the same place—he always has these meetings. I know it’s because no cameras face that part of the parking lot. And, no, a simple phone call or text isn’t enough. We have these little meetings every so often. But lately, they seem to be happening more and more frequently.

When I agreed to this job many years ago, I didn’t know exactly what it was I was agreeing to. He’s a powerful person. Important. Expensive. I remember the day like it was yesterday… He approached me one night at a nightclub, in one of his designer suits, all prim and proper. I was depressed. Hurt. Felt this void inside I needed to fill. I was only nineteen. Stupid and young. Thought this would be it, the way to do it. Even though I had my brothers, there was always something missing. I wanted the power, the high of being in charge. When I accepted his offer, I had no idea that he would control my life. I was disgusted with myself and locked in a contract I could never walk away from.

I don’t know much about him, even after all these years, but I know enough that my body cries out in fear every time I see him. Every time his texts appear on my phone. He wants me. Lives off the high of owning me, but it’s not the same as an ol’ lady. He owns me to hurt me, owns me to use me, and I was an idiot to have ever entered his life.

My brothers can’t find out. It will only put them in danger. And I have to protect my family. At all costs.

I’m way past being late, and my nerves are shot. My hands shake, tremble with fear, and I hate it. This man can diminish even the most powerful among us to a mass of quivering bones. But I’m here, and he knows I’m here.

I just need to get out of this damn car.

My tremoring hands rest on the handle of my Camaro, and all I have to do is open the stupid door. I listen to the peaceful night outside. The only sound is that of the rain hammering down on the roof, but it does little to drown out my pounding heart.

One… two… three…

The rain soaks my body while the cool, damp air kisses the skin on my face. I open the back door to his car and slide onto the leather seat, my drenched clothes dripping onto the material beneath me. The air feels like ice as I sit next to the figure who terrifies me down to my core, and I can’t help but shiver.

This man, my boss, is startlingly still and silent as he checks his watch, his slick black hair in a perfectly styled position. The echo from the rain bouncing off metal accompanies the painful quietude that surrounds me. It’s the calm before the storm.

“Mr. Galiente.” I shudder in greeting. It comes out so quiet I’m not sure he even hears me.

My confidence goes out the window when I’m with this man. I can handle myself pretty well, but I can’t fake this courage. I cower, retreat inside my bubble, hoping it doesn’t pop. My father was the only other man who could affect me this way, and I hate it. Not even Venom terrifies me like this.

It’s familiar, but unwelcomed.

“You’re late,” he says with an alarming amount of poise and calmness. “You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.” He folds his hands on his lap, his cuff links stretching the material of his suit.

My ears vibrate to the sound of my heart beating.

When he eventually turns to address me, his eyes blaze with fury. This beast of a man takes control of my whole body, capturing me with terror. Those eyes, those grey lifeless eyes, are filled with pure evil. There is nothing good about this man.

Nothing.

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