Page 7 of Don't Speak
Doing as he says, I sit back down on the couch, his boy part still hanging on the outside of his underwear. I close my eyes and look away, knowing Daddy is about to make me do something bad. I wipe the snot running down my nose with the back of my hand.
“Now,” he starts, grabbing onto his private and making it stand straight up, “put your mouth on it.”
My face scrunches up, and my heart is beating so fast I feel like it might explode. I don’t know what to do other than to obey, so I do, endless tears streaming down my face.
When it’s over, I run to my room, seeking comfort in my closet with my stuffed animals. Bode follows me in and cuddles up to me, attempting to lick the tears from my face. I hold onto him and sob in the comfort of the darkness that my closet brings me. No one can get me here.
I feel gross. Icky. Flashes of what he made me do dance across my mind, and I scrub my tongue with the back of myhand, crying harder. What did I do wrong? Why did he make me do that?
I hope he never makes me do that again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I wake with another jolt, sweat pouring down my chest. My sheets are drenched, and my eyes are wet as though I was crying in my sleep.Not again. Lying there for a minute, my mind races through the events of that night. That night was the first. The first of many more moments where I’d lose a piece of my soul. I lost track of how many times I’d cry myself to sleep, only to wake up and have to pretend like nothing happened. I grew comfortable with awkwardness when I should have been screaming about what he was doing at the top of my lungs every chance I got. Silence became my best friend.
Checking my phone, I see that it’s 9:15am. Well, at least my nightmare let me sleep in this time. Simba is curled up at my feet and gives a big stretch before meowing that he’s ready for breakfast.
Getting out of bed, I slip on my slippers and pad to the kitchen. Grabbing his bag of food, I pour some into his bowl and place the bag back into the pantry. My turn. Walking over to the coffee machine, I place a K-cup into the Keurig and start brewing. I don’t have to be at work until later this afternoon since I am only working the night shift.
Once my coffee is done, I pour in my salted caramel creamer and top it with salted caramel cold foam. Clearly, it’s my favorite flavor. Sitting on my couch, I am about to open my book again when there is a sudden knock on the door. I place my cup of coffee on the table and walk over to the door. When I open it, there is no one there.Weird. I poke my head out, looking left and right, but no one is in sight. I am about to close the door when something red catches my eye. There, sitting on the porch mat, is a red rose. I freeze, looking back up and searching for someone nearby. Suddenly, I can’t shake that feeling of being watched again. Snatching the rose from the mat, I spin and slam the door closed, clicking every lock in place, my heart slamming in my chest.
I walk back to my seat on the couch, placing the rose on the table next to my coffee and staring at it. Who would have dropped this off? It couldn’t behim, could it? I feel my neck begin to flush, panic coursing in my blood. No, that isn’t possible. I’ve been so careful. Suddenly, my breathing increases, my vision begins to tunnel, and my hands begin to shake.Oh no. Not now.I haven’t had a panic attack in a few months now. I thought I was doing so good.
Recognizing the signs, I quickly make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I set it to the coldesttemperature and step in. The cold water shocks my system back into place, allowing me to regulate my breathing once more.In and out, in and out.The water cascades around me, caressing my skin like the iciest hug imaginable. It’s not my favorite thing, but it works. I thought I’d said goodbye to my old foe, but alas, good things never last.
Once I’ve come back down to baseline, I step out of the shower. Changing out of my now-wet pajamas, I put a fresh set on and head back to the couch. I don’t even know what I should do about this. Having spaced out while staring at the rose, I’m brought back to reality when my phone suddenly buzzes on the table. I check it and see that it is a message from Ben.
Ben: Hey, Nikki. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I need you to come in for the lunch shift. Eric quit. Said he had a family emergency out of town and needed to be with family for a while. Thankfully, I already hired someone this morning to fill the position we needed before his departure, but I’ll need you to come in and train him. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t NEED you.
Nikki: No problem, Ben. I’ll be there.
Ben: Thanks, Nikki. I owe you.
Family emergency, huh? Yeah right. He’s probably scared shitless to show his face after what happened. Whatever. Good fucking riddance. At least this way, I don’t have to work with him again. Placing my phone back on the table, I pick the rose up, carrying it over to the kitchen and tossing it into the trash. Maybe I should invest in security cameras.
I still have a few hours left until I need to be at work, so I relax back on the couch and let my mind focus on my current read. Sometimes, disconnecting from reality is exactly what I need.
CHAPTER NINE
The lunch shift is pretty slow today. Our regulars have come and gone, leaving me to tend to their empty tables and clear them for the next customers. As I’m wiping down the last table, Ben walks through the door, followed by the mystery man from the other night. Surprise graces my features, but I quickly recover.
“Hey, Nikki. This is Dean. He’s our new bartender and occasional server, and I need you to help train him,” Ben says, sounding grateful to be having some more help around here.
“Hi, Dean. I’m Nikki. Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, waiting for him to do the same.
“Nice to meet you, Nikki. I look forward to working with you,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and shaking it gently.Oh my. He has those rough, masculine hands I love.
Breaking the connection, I grab a rag and toss it to him. “If you think this is going to be easy, think again. I move pretty fast, so keep up. We should be getting one last lunch rush for the late eaters, and then we move on to the night shift. I hope you’re ready.”
“Oh, I don’t think you know just how ready I am,” he says, taking the rag and wiping every possible surface he can see without me even telling him to. I see the slightest smirk grace his face before it’s gone, and I’m suddenly even more curious about this man. There’s something about him I can’t quite put my finger on.
Dean did well for his first lunch shift. I hardly had to give him direction. He took charge, completing tasks I would have asked him to do if he hadn’t already taken the initiative. It was refreshing, honestly. I hate having to babysit adults. There’s nothing I hate more than telling grown-ass people how to do their job when they aren’t doing it correctly. The real test, though, will be the night shift, which starts in thirty minutes. After the late-lunchers were done, we were behind the bar with me quizzing him on how to make frequently ordered drinks. He aced it. He hasn’t talked much, so I haven’t gotten the chance to ask him what his experience behind the bar is, but he clearly knows what he’s doing. It makes my life much easier. I have a good feeling about him. Cora will also be thrilled to have someone on the team who knows his shit.
“So… Dean. Not your first rodeo, huh?”
Dean chuckles. “I worked at a local pub to pay my way through college. Then, about nine years ago, I went back to help a friend of mine run it while he was receiving chemo treatment. Met a lot of nice people, learned a lot on the job, and I found thatI had a knack for getting people drunk,” he replies, cleaning one of the beer mugs we have for draft beer.
“Oh, really? What did you go to college for?” I ask him, hoping that I’m not prying too much.
