Page 131 of Devil's Bargain

TWENTY-ONE

I’m staring at the brown bottle of pills I dug out of my mom’s medicine cabinet. If I take them all, it’ll be over. No more humiliation. No more pain.

I can barely sit today. I have crusted scabs on my ass from my night with Salt and Pepper. Then the beating I received from Scott and Jared afterward was unlike anything I’d experienced before. It’s escalating. The worst part is that they ensured I was turned on by it all. I don’t understand my fucking brain. Who gets aroused by abuse? I hate them, but in those moments when they punish me, my clit throbs with its own heartbeat. I don’t understand the mix of emotions inside me.

My mom moans non-stop in her bedroom. Who’s fucking her? Jared and Scott, of course, as if this situation isn’t fucked up enough as it is! Meanwhile, I’m down here, building up the courage to swallow this cocktail of pills to make the pain stop. But instead of ending it, I leave the house despite their orders not to. I can’t sit here and listen to their sex fest.

I leave the car. The walk to school is too fucking long, and by the time I arrive, my legs ache, but it beats staying at home. A home I now seem to share with Scott and Jared. They’ve inserted themselves in every area of my life.

“Just fucking great,” I growl when a car drives through a puddle right next to me on the sidewalk. The sun is out, but it rained heavily last night, and now my clothes are soaked.

I look down at the wet stains on my skirt and fishnet stockings.

“Hey, Vivian! How much for the hour?”

My head shoots up. Rick has pulled over next to me. “Are you saying I Iook like a hooker?”

He chuckles. “You’ve watched the movie then?”

I smile despite myself. “Who hasn’t watched Pretty Woman? I’m surprised you know it.”

He leans over and opens the passenger door. “Hop in.”

Placing my bag in the footwell, I carefully lower myself in the seat and close the door. “What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Would it be creepy if I said I was looking for you?”

I tuck my hair behind my ear and lean forward to change the radio station. “Maybe.”

“Why are you walking? Something wrong with your car?”

“Nope.” One of my favorite rock songs is playing. I turn it up. “I needed time to think.”

Rick pulls away from the curb, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat.

“You know this song?”

He shakes his head, his eyes on the heavy traffic ahead. “No, but I can see why you like it.”

“Yeah?” I smile, watching his handsome profile. The way his brown hair falls in his eyes.

He nods absentmindedly as we slow down at a set of stoplights. “It’s catchy.”

“Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab. It’s my favorite song.”

He glances at me briefly before focusing back on the road as the light turns green. “I can tell.”

“What?” I laugh, bouncing in the seat to the music despite my pain. I brush away a strand of hair stuck in my lipgloss and give him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t sing and dance in your car when no one is watching?”

He tries to suppress a smile but does a poor job of it. “No comment.”

“Ha! You’re so guilty!” I push his shoulder playfully. “Oh my god! My favorite part is coming up!”

He looks amused as I belt out the lyrics at the top of my lungs. He tries to pretend my terrible singing voice hurts his ears, but his eyes shine in the way they only do when he’s about to laugh.

“They say before you start a war, you better know what you’re fighting for!” I sing, ruffling the back of his hair.

“I regret picking you up now!” he laughs, shoving me away playfully.

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