Page 3 of Lie With Me

Instantly, he grins and snaps his hips harder to the point where it hurts. He notices it when I wince. “Mouthy little thing, aren’t you? That’s okay. I like feisty.”

His thrusts grow harder, and for some reason, I don’t look away from him. Instead, I reach around his back to scratch my nails down his skin hard enough to leave welts—wanting to inflict some sort of pain back on him.

“Oh yeah, baby. You wanna hurt Daddy? Come on, make me bleed, little one,” he moans.

He likes it.

The pain.

I rake my nails over his back again, and he drops his head to suck at my neck, drawing the tender flesh into his mouth and biting down on it before dragging his tongue along the bite mark.

“Fuck, you’re better than I imagined. Why don’t you say we make our own deal? Hmm? I’ll still give your momma her drugs, but I’ll give you cold, hard cash if you make it this good for me every time. What do you say?”

My nails tighten on his arms, and he mistakes my shock for a silent agreement. He fucks me quicker before coming with a string of curses flying from his mouth.

When he draws back, he fixes me with a smile and runs his eyes down my naked body. “Good girl.”

“I didn’t say yes.” I don’t know what possessesme, but as he stares at my bare pussy, I widen my legs to give him a better view.

He lets out a short laugh as he pulls the condom off and discards it in the trash next to my bed. “You didn’t say no, either. I’ll be in touch.”

More than an hour passes before I move from my bed to shower off his stench and sweat.

An hour where I convince myself thatthisis my way out.

I’ve been primed all my life to use my body to get what my mother wants. Now, I’m going to use it to get whatIwant. She wants drugs. I want money.

Enough money to get out of this low-life Pennsylvania town and set me up in New York. I’ve always wanted to see the bright lights of the City That Never Sleeps.

All I need to do is start pretending like I actuallyenjoywhat these men do to me.

After all, men are stupid. They’ll believe anything if you’re a good enough liar.

Age 17

Blood. There’s so much blood.

A dull throbbing pain blooms across my face as my vision grows hazy.

Someone is screaming. A little girl crying out for a mother who never cared enough to protect her.

Is that me?

Hazy red and blue lights fill my room, coming from outside my window.

Men dressed in navy.

Why do they carenow?

Everything grows cold. Suddenly, there’s pressure on my face while a man shouts, “Call ahead and have them prep an OR! Hang in there, sweetheart, you’re going to be okay.”

“Where are you taking her?” Someone is struggling, and a metal jingle fills the room, joining my mother’s cries.

My head drifts to the side, meeting the lifeless, dead eyes of the man she killed. There’s a kitchen knife sticking out of his back. His mouth is still open in shock, dripping blood from blue lips.

“He tried to kill my baby!” she screams.

Someone tried to kill me?

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