Page 45 of Throttle

“I miss the old you. The easy-going jackoff.” Yeah, me too. “All right. I’m hanging up but be sitting for this.”

Another vibration, and the text materializes, requiring me to read it twice. I clench my jaw, and my hands shake with fury. There are two things that evoke powerful emotions in me: the disgust and hatred toward pedophiles and traffickers and protecting Tequila. The thought of her being hurt—getting hurt—makes me rabid.

This explains why she has been keeping her home life a secret. Her neighborhood is trash. Drug dealers, shootings, robberies. The last one gets my blood boiling…

Rape.

I'm familiar with that area. It’s the pits. I regret not pushing harder. Demanding answers.

She lives in the goddamn slums.

You know what my little rose? I’ll be taking you home to my garden.

Tequila

I was relieved to find the hallway unoccupied. Specifically, Jasper. Since the incident occurred, I have had zero contact with him, and I hope it stays that way. One could be so lucky.

“My girl,” Frank slurs, which then echoes off the walls as I walk past him. “Got any cash to spare, aye?”

“Sorry, Frank, not tonight.” Feeling guilty, I close my door and lock it. Being out there longer than I had to made me sweat.

I collapse onto my bed and begin sobbing. Despite worse things happening in the world, I cry. My gripes weren’t a big deal comparatively. Once I graduate, secure a teaching position, and improve my financial situation, I can move to a nicer place. Perhaps even consider keeping the bartending job for extra income on weekends.

I try to erase the memory of the woman leaving Throttle's room and our last conversation. But I fail. My thoughts fill with flashing images and his words in an endless loop.

He's only a man, but I sound so pathetic. Ugh. Stop acting like a high schooler in love.

I straighten up, dab away my tears, and pull out my phone. As I come across Caleb's name in my texts, I pause and hover my fingers over the keyboard. Just because I don't have feelings for him now, doesn't mean they can't develop, right? These matters need patience. They're not immediate. Although, I’d be lying if I said electrical currents didn’t zap me the first day Throttle came and sat down at the bar.

I'll put on my big girl panties and message Caleb. I double-make sure my words don’t appear desperate before I send it.

Me: I would love to hang out again.

Caleb: You just made my day, beautiful.

Instead of healing my fresh wounds, his fast response deepened them.

While making plans for our future date, I snuggle up in my sheets and close my eyes. Regardless of the knots in my stomach, I lay there, hoping for dreamless slumber, avoiding thoughts of the man who has my heart. It was enough to make everything fall apart in a mere of hours. It wasn’t fair. Despite life's unfairness, I had to move on from being in love.

When I can't sleep, I decide a hot bath and wine might cure my insomnia. I start the water, pour a glass of delicious fruity sangria and strip out of my clothes, putting on my silk robe that came to my knees.

While sipping my drink, I twirl my finger in the heated water, almost dropping my glass when I experience a strong feeling of déjà vu from a loud bang at the door.

Please don’t be Jasper.

I stay motionless, anticipating the departure of whoever is on the other end, but the knock, more like a heavy pounding, reverberates once more.

After leaving the bathroom, I hold my breath while I check the peephole.

It’s not Jasper but the other man who devours my core. The person in my life who has the power to cripple me with a single look and touch.

Once the relief fades away, I'm confronted with reality.

He knows.

I want to deflate with the blood rushing to my toes. My vision grows blurry, and the spinning intensifies. My secret is out and Throttle, of all people, found out.

How did he find out? That question was obviously stupid. The Chains can solve anything, and I was naïve thinking, Throttle would pretend to ignore this forever.

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