Page 4 of Beautiful Beasts

I should let him die in this broken-down house, but then people would ask questions, and that is the last thing I need. One day, I will run from this place, run away from the man who is supposed to be my father, but I just call him Griffin.

I will run, and when I do, I will never look back, but to run, you need money and a place to run to. And right now, I don’t have either one, but I will eventually. I look over the broken-down house. He is in this house or the run-down casino when he is not at home.

I always end up finding him and bringing him home, and then my home becomes a place that hides my screams, hides my tears all over again.

I am strong, or at least that is what I try to tell myself. Griffin might have taken my body, but he will never break my spirit or my need to escape.

I slowly make my way up the steps and push the door open; it is never locked; why would it be?

People come here to get high, that is it. If he is here, it will tell me what kind of night I will have. I already ran into Dante tonight. He makes me nervous but also makes me feel something else that I can’t put my finger on. All I know is he makes my stomach feel like butterflies are taking flight.

I know who he is; I am not fucking stupid, but there is something in his eyes, something that tells me that he is not someone I need to fear. He is strong, possessive, dominant, and a King, after all. But there is something soft in his eyes, something that others must not see, and I am curious about why the hell he would let me see it.

Maybe he doesn’t know I see it.

Fuck, I am crazy, all of this is crazy.

But this is my fucking life.

I make my way into the house and turn into the living room. My father is standing up, reaching into his pocket.

The house smells like piss and sour pussy. My stomach turns into knots as I slowly make my way to my father’s side.

A man is standing in front of him, a man that I have heard is violent and cruel. He is the collector of debts, and from the money my father is about to hand over, I am willing to bet he owes him more than what he has.

I watch my father hand over the money, and the man quickly counts it. “Griffin, you are short again,” the man says in an annoyed voice.

No surprise there, my father is fucking short with everything.

“I know, but I can make up for it,” my father says confidently. I hate when he says these words because it can only mean one of two things, and I am praying, fucking hoping that tonight is not the option I think it is.

I look from the man to my father. He takes a deep breath and looks at me. “I’m sorry, Bella,” my father whispers.

“You can have my daughter for tonight,” he says calmly.

My heart stops. No, not that option, not tonight, please. “The fuck he can,” I snap as I go to take a step back, but the man and my father both grab one of my arms, keeping me in place.

“Deal,” the man says, tightening his grip on my arm. My father releases his grip, quickly turns around, and starts to walk toward the front door.

“I fucking hate you,” I yell after him.

He stops for a moment. “Be a good girl, and do what you are told Bella,” he demands as he walks out of the front door, closing it behind him.

As soon as the door slams shut, the man releases my arm and pushes me down on the couch. Before I can do anything, the man is on top of me, ripping at my clothes. He starts to push his hands underneath my sweatpants as he kisses and licks my neck.

I try to struggle, but he has me pinned down. My throat is already raw from screaming for help and begging him to stop. The man covers my mouth with his hand, pushing me down farther and firmly into the couch.

He pushes his hand into my underwear and shoves two fingers into my pussy, moving in and out of me at a quick and violent pace. Tears stream down my face as I am once again reminded that I am nothing to my father, only something he uses to get what he wants.

He will do anything for the dope, even pimping out his own daughter.

3

Dante

“A Little Death” by The Neighbourhood

I was sitting back in the booth when I saw Bella make her way through the crowd towards the bar. She is wearing a fitted black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. When I told her she didn’t belong here, that she was too good, too fucking pure, I was telling the truth, but apparently she must not have gotten the message.

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