Page 17 of Bad Like Me

15

Ray

“Ray, grab the tacklebox, girl, and I don’t mean the one in your face,” Dad hollered from the truck right as I passed the garage. I grinned and flipped him off from where I stood. He was my best friend, other than my boyfriend, Logan. I loved going fishing with him because it meant time away from Mom. No matter how hard I tried, we didn’t get along. I was always doing something wrong in her eyes, but I was trying my best, really I was.

I bent down to grab the tackle box and started getting sick to my stomach. “You okay? You’re not looking so good.” Dad’s mouth was moving in sync with the words, but it wasn’t his voice. It was one I heard before, though. I tried to move my hands, but they refused.

“Help me, Daddy,” I cried as tears streaked my face, and I fell to my knees, unable to stand anymore.

Sadistic laughter pulled me into consciousness, and my eyelids flew open in response. I was far too weak to fight anyone off at the moment, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try anyway. I refused to give up.

“You can call me daddy if you like,” a masked man purred, running a long blade along my collarbone and grunted. “I’ll give the Bastards one thing, they know how to pick ‘em. This one is sweet.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and turned his head to the side. It was only then I realized he wasn’t talking to me anymore, but the man standing across the room from us.

“Please. I have a savings account. I’ll give you the pin, you can have all the money I have,” I pleaded in a small voice as the room spun around me, knowing damn well they’d be even more pissed when they saw the little amount I was offering them.

“How sweet. She thinks she can right their wrongs. You can’t so shut the fuck up and save your breath. You’re going to need it for this next part.” The guy across the room manically laughed. “Do it,” he instructed the other man; he was the one in charge and calling the shots. He was the one I would have to convince to give me my freedom.

“Finally, if I wanted to listen to someone whine, I would have stayed at home.” I made a mental note that he was married or at the very least had a significant other because of the ring on his finger. I’d seen enough crime shows to know little facts were important.

He jammed the tip of the blade through my skin, a tiny whimper passed through my lips, and I bit down on my bottom lip to muffle the noise. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing how bad it hurt. The rest of the knife ripped through my flesh with ease as if it were warm butter. It hadn’t taken as much force as one would expect. The sound alone was enough to turn my stomach; it was like a rare steak being ripped apart against the grain. A tormented scream flowed up my throat and surrounded all of my senses. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else other than the pain, so I focused on it to even my breathing out as I gritted my teeth.

“I think she likes it.” He sounded amused, enjoying his torture of me.

I spat on his shoe; I couldn’t help it. I’d never been a pushover, and I was too stupid to be one now.

“You bitch!” he growled, backhanding my cheek. My body flew sideways, my cheekbone smacking against the floor, and instantly, an unrelenting throbbing sting pounded in distress. I didn’t move or speak; I didn’t have the power within me this time. The coolness of the stone floor was soothing and welcoming. My eyes fluttered as I fought the fall into nothingness, but it took me prisoner yet again.

---