Page 17 of Tainted Rose

When he calls me “boy” a lot, I know he’s been drinking. I wince as I hand it to him and assume the position, hands on the bed. He yanks my pajama pants down.

His swift intake of breath is followed by the slicing pain of the leather hitting me below my butt.

I scream.

For mercy.

For my mom.

For the nightmare to end.

Help never comes.

I bolt upright in my king-size bed with a strangled shout, breath heaving, sweat drenching the sheets beneath me. I haven’t had one of those dreams in a long, long time.

Fuck me, that’d felt real. Thank God that asshole is never coming near us again.

As I lie there, I can’t help but think about Scarlett and how pissed off she’s been every time I’ve seen her this week at school. I know she’s angry, but I don’t see another way. My girl is strong. Somehow this will eventually be okay. Somehow, I’ll figure out a way through this—my newest nightmare.

I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s forever before I settle enough to fall back to sleep.

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