Page 38 of Scrimmage

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

It feels like I'm moving in slow motion. I reach over and grab my sketchpad.

“You wanna be my good girl, don’t you, Ashland?” Some guy I’ve seen a few times, Adam, asks. His body traps mine against the hardwood floor.

I don’t seehimanywhere. He’s started leaving me alone, and then his men come. I’m confused. They aren’t supposed to address me, and I’m not supposed to look at them. I’m supposed to cry and fight, but not too much, and only if he’s here. But if I refuse them they’ll tell him lies, and he doesn’t care if they’re true or not. Most of the time anyways. If he finds out, he’s going to get upset.

The tears flow and Adam grabs my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks. “I asked you a goddamn question,Ashland.”

“Please,” I sob.

“I don’t know what he fucking sees in you. You owe me this for putting up with his shit. He won’t be here much longer anyways, then you’ll be mine.”

His hot breath smells like tuna. I wanna wretch.

“What did you just say?” The devil himself is standing in the doorway, his voice light and airy .

“She was in here touching herself." Adam jumps up, adjusting his dick. “She started coming onto me. Told me to call her…to…”

“Go ahead. Say it.” He looks bored, but I know that look. I crawl backward as fast as I can, begging the wall to absorb me when I feel the cool plaster on my skin.

Adam clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “She asked me to call her Ashland.”

He shuts the door carefully and pulls out his knife. His gait is slow and confident, bouncing on his heels as he approaches me. He crouches down to my level. I’m shaking like a fucking leaf as the tip of the knife digs into my chin.

“Look at me.”

I obey his command immediately, starting to cry again.

“Is this true, baby girl? Were you touching yourself without my permission? Did you ask him to help you? To call you Ashland?”

I know not to call his men liars, but I also know that I’ll lose a star or two if he thinks what they’re saying is true and I don’t defend myself somehow. All I can do is cry harder, like a fucking coward. He didn’t want an answer anyways.

He tilts his head, using his thumb to wipe away my tears and sucks them off.

“Do you know what tears taste like, Adam?”

“No, sir,” Adam responds.

He pulls the knife from my throat and uses it to wave Adam over. “Taste them.”

Adam looks uneasy as he watches him collect my tears on the sharpened silver. It glistens in the light as he holds it out.

“Go on,” he encourages. Adam licks it quickly. “No, no, no,” he chuckles. “Really savor it.”

Adam licks the edge of the blade.

“What do you taste?” he asks.

“I don’t know, sir.”

He stands up, looming over Adam whose throat bobs when he swallows. “Fear, Adam. That tastes like fucking fear.”

“Yes, sir,” Adam’s voice shakes.

“And do you know what I smell?” he begins to sneer.

“No, sir,” Adam stammers.

---