Page 139 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

“You fucking little whore.” His words spat over me like a rain of bullets. I winced. “In my house. IN MY HOUSE!”

I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? I closed my eyes and waited for it to come. There was no one to save me. I could scream all I wanted, but no one ever came.

“DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!”

THUD

THUD

THUD

Dale was trying to break down the bathroom door.

“Dale, no!” I cried, shrinking against the wall as my stepfather grabbed me by the hair. “Stop! Just stop!”

“Pete…” My mother’s voice, choked, from the floor of their room where she was cradling her busted cheek with her hand. “Don’t…please…”

“Shut up!” He pointed at her, his eyes wild with rage as he slammed my head against the hallway wall again and again, using it as a weapon while he lectured her, until I saw stars. “This little whore needs to be taught a goddamned lesson!”

THUD

THUD

THUD

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!” Dale roared.

The stepbeast ignored the caged tiger in the bathroom, turning his attention to me, his face skewed into a twisted smile as he lifted my face.

“Nice.” He rubbed his thumb through the blood dripping down my chin. “That will make for some good lubrication while you’re sucking my dick, you little whore.”

There was a sound from the bathroom like an oncoming train or a tornado or something even more dangerous. It was an inhuman sound, something from the bowels of the earth, like a demon breaking through to the other side of the world.

THUD

THUD

CRACK!

I heard the door frame giving way, the wood splintering, but I knew it was too late.

I looked up at my stepfather, spitting blood at his face, screaming the words.

“GO TO HELL!”

I knew I was signing my own death warrant, and for once, I really didn’t care. His eyes told me everything I needed to know. This man hated me and was going to kill me. It might be now, it might be someday soon, but it was only a matter of time.

That was when he hit me. His fist connected with my face and my whole cheek lit up. It felt as if the side of my head had exploded. He’d never hit me with a closed fist before, and I had time to marvel at it before he did it again… and again, driving me back into my room. I covered my face with my hands, curling into a ball on the bed, and waited to die.

My mother, screaming, “Stop! Pete, stop it! You’re going to kill her!” was the last thing I heard before everything faded into blackness.

“Your mother called the police?” Aimee squawked.

“Mmm hmm.” I tried to open my eyes again to look at her, but it was just too painful. I could hardly talk, everything felt so swollen.

“But they arrested them both?”

“Water?” It came out “wa-ar” because my consonants still weren’t so great yet. Aimee lifted the cup to my mouth and I sucked on the straw, wincing at the pain—and they had me drugged up pretty good.

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