Page 14 of House Rules
“That’s the deal, sweet cheeks,” Pedo-stash says. Baldy takes one more squeeze of my tits for the road, and then they’re gone, leaving the door hanging open on its hinges.
I stand with my back against the wall, shaking, refusing to move, refusing to breathe until I hear gravel crunch under their tires, and I know they’re gone.
The second they drive away, my knees fall out from under me, and I catch myself on my palms again. I dry heave onto the torn linoleum floor.
I don’t know how long I lie there. When I open my eyes again, it’s dark, and the stray puppy has crawled through the hole in the floor and is curled up against my side, whimpering.
My hand goes to his soft fur, and I pet him. Tears trail down my face, making a little puddle beneath me.
Maybe it would have been better if I had antagonized them. Maybe I could have made them so angry that they beat me to death.
Death would be better than being whored out to pay for my father’s debt.
Death would be better than living in this shithole, constantly reminded of how I will never be anything more than a maid.
I won’t do it.
I will not let them whore me out. Living in this trailer, working a thankless job, being abandoned by everyone who’s supposed to love me…all of that isenough. I refuse to sink lower by letting some monster pimp me out.
I’ll pay them, or I’ll die trying.
One hundred forty thousand dollars. One week.
It’s more money than I’ve ever seen, and my thoughts return to that stupid watch. My hand curls into a fist in the pup’s fur. It’s the only way.
Was I really going to steal from Con Masterson?
Was I stupid enough to court the wrath of the Titans and their parents?
Yes.
It’s six of one, half dozen of the other.
If I don’t pay the debt, the loan shark will make me wish for death.
If I’m caught, the Titans will kill me.
Whichever way you look at it, unless I manage to straddle a very thin line, I’m a dead girl walking.
5
Phoenix
Scrappy is gonewhen I wake up in the morning, probably off to find his breakfast. My stomach grumbles in sympathy, reminding me I have absolutely no food in this place.
Another morning with no breakfast.
Sighing, I stand and make my way to the bathroom. I need a shower to wash Baldy’s fingerprints off of my body, even if the water is freezing.
It doesn’t matter how many times I scrub. Some things don’t come off. Not when they’re under your skin. Not when they belong to men who see you as nothing more than meat with a price tag.
A cold shower is refreshing. And good for the skin. That’s what I tell myself over and over and over, as I shiver under the spray. The icy spray does, at least, numb the ache in my ribs from the impressive black and purple bruises Pedo-stash left.
At least there aren’t any marks on my face. No marks on my face mean no questions at work, and I don’t need those.
By the time I walk into the resort through the back staff entrance, I’m back to thinking there’s no way I can steal that watch. Stealing from a Titan would be like jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
They would find out, and they would kill me.
