Page 16 of The Devil Within

Returning to my room, I throw on some jeans and a simple flannel button down before slipping my toes into my signature combat boots. I walk back toward the front of my house, searching through the mess on my entry way table for my keys. Finally locating them in the kitchen, I make sure to securely lock and deadbolt my door before leaving.

Driving south to this small town through the rain is almost soothing. The radio in my old truck has been on the fritz so I drive in comfortable silence; the sound of the rain on the hood of the cab is soothing to my heated soul. I take the time to center myself. I don’t want him to sense that something is wrong when I get there. The looming pines line the road leading to the casino. Unease coils tighter and tighter in the pit of my stomach the closer I get to the sprawling building ahead. You would think that after all this time, I’d be desensitized to the dread that this place elicits in my gut, yet I can’t help the anxiety spiral that’s currently forming in my core.

Put on a smile, Liv. Just put on a smile and get through it.

The lot is mostly empty. Not many people come to the casino in the afternoon on a random weekday. I park right up front, close enough that I won’t have to run through the rain for long to get inside the building. As much as I love the cool, damp climate of the Pacific Northwest, I absolutely hate what the humid air does to my hair. I’ve never found a frizz taming product that was able to withstand this climate. I guess it doesn’t really matter here though, it’s not like I need to impress anyone where I’m headed. I slip the hood of my slick raincoat over my curls as I slide frommy seat and out into the rain.

In a few short steps, I’m pulling open one of the heavy glass doors of the casino. The stench of stale cigarettes immediately hits my nose, pulling an discomforting unease from the depths of my unconscious. The smell has almost become a learned stimuli in my life—nothing good has ever come from entering this building. If I could leave here and never come back, I would gladly never tread across this worn down, faded floral carpet again in my lifetime. The once vibrant red flowers have now turned a sad shade of worn down brown. Sadly, I’m bound to this wretched place, to this prison, with a chain that seems to be unbreakable.

Entering the small and run-down bar I immediately spot the bald head and slumped shoulders of the man sitting at the far side of the room. I take a deep breath to steady myself before weaving through the sticky and uneven high top tables that litter the main area. There’s practically no one here on a weekday in the early afternoon; just a few sad souls, wasting away what remains of their meaningless lives in this hellhole. Stepping up to the bar and plopping down on a barstool, I turn to face one of those sad and empty souls.

“Hey, dad.” I try my best to sound cheery, as always, despite the disgust coiling through my entire being.

“Hey there, peanut,” he replies without even taking his eyes off the old televisions hanging behind the bar. The screens flash scores and statistics of various sports games and horse races.

“Dad,” my tone comes out more clipped than I mean it to. “How much have you lost this week already? Maybe we could just call it good for the day and go get lunch somewhere? My treat,” I offer.

My dad has always been a great dad—loving, caring, kind, and the only parent I’ve had since my mother left when I was a baby. But he is also a gambling addict. All the years spent barelyeating enough boxed macaroni and cheese to fill the empty pains of hunger in your stomach because your soul caregiver gambled away all their money turned me into the independent adult I am today. In a roundabout way, his faults made me stronger, smarter, and more capable. I never take a single dollar for granted, nor have I ever relied on anyone other than myself to take care of me. I’m as strong of a woman as I am precisely because I had to be. Yeah, it sucked pawning my mother’s engagement ring as a teenager to make sure I could buy books for school and food to survive, but it made me capable. I just wish the addiction hadn’t come with the other consequences, the ones I’ve been trying to run from my entire adult life.

“Yeah baby, we can go get lunch, let me just see the end of this one race,” he says with a gentle pat to my knee.

The bartender, a rough looking man named Jim with a heart of gold, slides me a beer across the bartop. He knows just as I do that I won’t be leaving here anytime soon, and neither will my dad. “You need anything else, Bill?” he asks.

Jim is part of the tribe that owns this land. He technically takes a share of all the profits this place makes, same as every other member of the Nation that owns this land. He’s worked here for years and he doesn’t seem to relish in the more unsavory side of things like some of the other employees here do. He is genuinely a kind guy, just trying to get by like the rest of us. I’ve come to know him well, chit-chatting here and there every Wednesday for the last decade of coming to this place. He was even nice enough to let me sit at the bar and keep an eye on my dad before I was legally allowed inside.

“Yeah, I’ll put another twenty on Steeley Shoes to win the next race.” My dad’s already forgotten his promise to leave and get lunch. I lean back in my seat and let a sigh slip past my lips. I take a long swig from my beer. The cool bubbles tickle my throat as they slide down. If I have to be here at least I can get a littleafternoon buzz going. “How are things going at work, peanut?”

“Oh you know,” I begin as I pick the corner of the label from the bottle. “Same old, same old. I’ve been getting some extra hours working the front desk so I’ll have a little more to give you this month.”

“Oh, little one, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got it covered. Don’t worry about your old man.”

If only he knew just how untrue that statement is. If he knew the price I’ve already paid for his addiction, maybe he’d be willing to stop.

The scrape of sharp plastic nails across my shoulders makes my skin crawl and bile rise in my throat. Her sickly sweet perfume wraps around me, constricting me and stealing the air from my lungs. Tears prick the back of my eyes as I slam them shut. I won’t give her the pleasure of seeing me break down. She deserves nothing from me, not even my pain.

“Hey, Erika!” my dad welcomes our very unwelcome guest. If only he knew exactly what kind of monsters he had allowed into our lives. “You want to sit with us? We were just about to watch this next race.”

“Thank you so much Mr. Lennox, but Olivia and I have some girl stuff to discuss.” Her talons sink into my shoulder, pinching my skin painfully. “Don’t we Liv?”

“Can I grab you a drink, Miss Linnormir?” Jim asks Erika politely.

Erika’s father owns the casino. He is not part of the tribe, taking from them just as much as he takes from others. He’s one of the wealthiest men in this part of the state. This is one of several less than upstanding establishments he owns. He is one of the most evil men who has ever existed. Other children fear the monster under their bed—he was my nightmare. Stefan Linnormir is a true devil.

“No thank you, Jim.” Erika’s sweet tone is filled withcondescension. I hate her so deeply, with every single bit of my soul.

I slide off the barstool as she slips her fingers around my upper arm. With a bruising grip on my flesh, she pulls me toward a booth in the back corner. I had hoped to slip in unnoticed, spend the afternoon with my father, maybe convince him not to blow his entire check here today, and leave. Unlucky me, I guess.

“We need to talk, babe,” she croons as she crosses her legs, letting her thigh brush up against mine.

Her pointed nails slide up and down against my upper arm. I loathe the feeling of her nails against my skin.

“Your dad has racked up quite a debt again,” she purrs as she nuzzles up against me, her hand sliding down underneath the table to find the waistband of my pants.

“How much does he owe this time?” I dread the answer. I’m praying it’s not too much. I have a bit saved up; I might be able to pay my way out of this one.

“Fifteen grand.” Her hand slides beneath the waistline of my pants as I choke on my own breath. That’s way more than I have saved up.

“I don’t have that much Erika and you know it. What’s Daddy going to make me do this time?” I can feel the anxious disgust rising throughout my entire core as I ask. With hesitation I continue, “Do I just have to service just you this time, or your daddy too?”

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