Vicious (13 page)

The shower was phenomena
l. A waterfall spray fell on me while wall jets shot out to hit each side of me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the experience. It was like everything was being washed away: the crappy dinner, foster families, mental hospitals, crazy mothers, abandoning boyfriends…

I scrubbed my skin with a masculine scented soap, every single inch
. I lathered my hair time and time again, watching the soap run down the drain. Eventually, I thought it was time to get out. I reluctantly turned off the water before stepping out and wrapping a thick white towel around me. I searched through the drawers on the vanity for a comb and dragged it through my wet hair until it looked somewhat presentable.

I stepped out into the hall
and was presented with a row of white doors. Some were open, and others closed. I didn’t know where he was, and I didn’t much care. I pushed open the first door, and pushed the glowing pad. The lights came on to reveal a large bedroom with a neatly made large bed in the middle. This would do me. Feeling like Goldilocks, I let the towel drop and crawled up onto the bed and beneath the sheets. They felt so crisp under my skin and the pillow so soft… I pushed the glowing pad beside the bed, and the room became darkness. I closed my eyes, and it was too easy to fall asleep there, whether I should or not.

I woke up to
a dark form standing over me “Why are you sleeping in here?” he asked.

I sat up, clutching the sheets to
my chest. “It seemed as good of a place as any.”

He slid in beside me, arms reaching for me and he lifted
me so that I straddled him. The curtain was open a crack, and some moonlight had snuck in. That was as good as anything. He was hard already and slipped inside me with ease. I moved against his length slowly, smiling when his hands clutched onto my thighs with more urgency, because I still took my time, regardless if it were agonizing for him or not. He had enough of that. Fingers curled into me nearly painfully, and he bucked up relentlessly, in control now, he brought me up and down against him with speed. Finally, he flipped us, so I was on the bottom, and he was hammering into me ruthlessly. He shuddered and let out a gasp when he came. In the dark, I could see that his eyes were closed, and for a moment, he looked happy.

Rolling off me, he curled up with his face toward the window. I moved to the far edge of the bed. I stayed awake for a long while afterward, watching his still form. He didn’t move,
and there was not even the slightest hint that he was breathing. Nor was there any noise coming from him. He was inhumanly quiet, and I wondered if he was even asleep. At some stage, my eyes grew heavy, and I slept as well. Although I shared a bed with this stranger, the bed was comfortable, and I had the best sleep that I had ever had.

Sunlight woke me. Fully dressed now, Brody opened the curtains to expose a sunlit ocean and peaceful shoreline.  I sat up groggily, blinking against the strong light and pulling the sheets up with me. My clothes sat neatly folded on the bed
along with a fresh towel.

“You can shower before you go.” He was still facing the direct
ion of the ocean before he turned and walked out, not once glancing in my direction. I waited until he had disappeared before kicking my legs free of the blankets and reaching for the towel. I padded down the hall on the soft carpet toward the bathroom with the heavenly shower. At least that was one good thing about last night. Although, it would make the boxy, mouldy little shower in my apartment with its pathetic spray and intermittent hot water, all the more disappointing.

I
wouldn’t be remaining in my apartment much longer though because I had just lost my job. I groaned as I remembered that ugly memory, resting my head against the marble on the wall as the water rained down on me before swirling down the drain. I wish that I could’ve just washed away as well. It would be better than to face a day of job hunting. Minimum wage employers could smell the desperate and poor from a mile away. They knew to hire the ones who wouldn’t kick up a fuss about anything because they needed that pathetic payment at the end of each week just to survive. And I was a member of their ranks.

I got dressed slowly, wanting to stay in that luxurious bathroom forever. And I yearned for the vivid, uninterrupted view of the moon each evening. I could never see it from my apartment.
In the beginning, Connie and I would pool our money together and buy the cheapest wine we could find. We would sit on the beach, digging our bare feet into the sand and get drunk. It was the best view in the city, we would joke as we got drunk. We were living the dream and everything would get better. But it still hadn’t.

I braided my hair
down my back before stepping out to head to where I heard noises. I needed to grab my bag, and hopefully he would give me a ride home because I couldn’t spare money on bus fare.

He stood in the kitchen that matched the rest of the apartment in expense and
design. Glass espresso cups held coffee while bagels sat on a plate on the stone counter. I approached almost nervously, even more so when his head snapped up at the sound of my movement as he pulled his attention from his phone.

“Come eat.” A plat
e was shoved slightly along the stone, and it made a scraping noise that resonated in my bones. I sat on a bar stool and started to spread pesto on the bagel. The stool was so high that I felt like a child. This whole place made me feel like a child; I did not belong amongst such fine things. I used to think myself an actress or a chameleon. I would change my personality to suit or please whatever situation I was forced into. But now, I felt like that girl was gone.
That
girl had hope. This girl was something to be banged, and there would be no fairy tale ending.

The coffee tasted wonderful,
and it was nothing like the crap that we served at the diner. I spied a fancy, stainless steel machine sitting in the corner, and wondered why he would go somewhere so crappy like Annie’s and spend money when he had everything he could need right here. I even smiled a little when I tasted the steaming liquid, but then I noticed him watching me, and I let that smile drop straightaway as I lowered my eyes. It was replaced with that practiced stone look, the one that revealed nothing. He should have recognized it because he had it down to far more of a fine art than I ever could.

“How’s your hand?” His voice interrupted the silence so abruptly that my hand shook with surprise. Coffee splashed from the cup and over onto the perfect white stone.

“Sorry,” I muttered, jumping down from the stool to grab a dish cloth which sat in the butler’s sink. I mopped at it, hoping it wouldn’t stain that pure white.

“Leave it,” his voice barked, and I took a breath in sharply. Was he mad? But then he said, “I have a woman who comes in and cleans each day. She’ll take care of it. Finish your coffee.”

“Okay.” I did as he said, climbing back on the barstool and holding my coffee cup with two hands securely. When I dared a glance at him, I saw he had something that could almost be called a smile on his face. Not that it was friendly, just not as stern as I was used to.

“So, how’s your hand feeling now?”

“It’s good.” And it was, I hadn’t noticed any pain that morning.

That was the extent of our conversation. The only other words he spoke to me were that he would take me home.
Other than that, it was silence as we travelled down to the garage and on the ride over to my place. I almost let out a sigh of disappointment as my building came into view. It looked so shabby and sad. In some ways, it was better to never have experienced luxury, because it just reinforced how shitty everything else was. I hated to think where I would be living next if I didn’t get a job as soon as possible.

An idea hit me as soon as he pulled the car to a stop. I hated asking, but I had to try everything. “Do you need any new servers at your restaurants? I’ve never worked anywhere that fancy before
, but I’m a quick learner and—“

He interrupted with his cool tone. “I don’t hire girls who I’ve slept with, Violet.”

That was like a slap in the face, and all hope deflated. “Okay.” I hugged my bag close to my body. “Thank you for the ride.” I didn’t look at him again as I exited the car. There were two homeless people I had to step over to get inside this time. I just took it in my stride, and when I got into my apartment, I collapsed against the wall and nearly cried at how shit everything was. Even the walls were the color of shit.

Connie’s text came through telling me there were no vacancies at the bar that she worked at as I sat on a park bench. My feet w
ere sore from walking everywhere. I had been into nearly every eatery I could think of asking for work and there was no luck so far. One place said they could offer one shift a week, but that wasn’t enough to pay rent. Another guy had given me a lecture on how the government had turned the country to shit, and all the wealthy people controlled everything and it was their fault blah blah blah. I ended up walking out of there, desperately wishing that I was one of the wealthy.

Another text from Connie came through that she’d heard that a strip club was looking for fresh faces. Was I a fresh face? I felt a thousand years old, plus, there was no way I would be stripping down naked in front of a room filled with people.
But would you rather live on the street?
the voice nagged in my head.

When the sun started to go down, I got to my feet and started the long walk home at a slow speed
. I noticed the guy from afar. He had that walk like he wasn’t going anywhere. I averted my eyes from him; it was best to avoid eye contact with these types of people. Because of this, I wasn’t prepared when he grabbed at my bag. It wrenched on my shoulder painfully, and I let out a cry before I switched to action. No way was he taking my bag. I tried to kick at him, but his fist flew out and hit the side of my face. I went down, but I didn’t release my grip on my bag. Then his shoe came in and kicked my stomach, and I screamed, but I still didn’t let go. He kicked me in the face, and that’s when I let go with a wail which was a mixture of pain and defeat. My head rolled on the concrete, and I heard the sound of him running away.

People came over then, peering down at me. “Is she dead?” someone asked, not sounding like they cared that much.

My eyes opened. “No, I’m not fucking dead.” Blood ran in my mouth, nearly choking me, and I struggled to sit up. Pain jarred every part of me, but the worst part was the realization that he had stolen my bag. That asshole had the last of my cash.

“Fuck!” I
screamed, bashing my fist down onto the concrete beside me. “Fuck, fuck,
fuck.”
Tears flowed down my face freely, while these people looked on like I was a sideshow. Using the wall for support, I struggled to my feet. I wouldn’t have accepted their help even if they had offered, which they didn’t. I pushed past them with a weak limp; my whole body engulfed in pain. But I kept going until I reached home. The building manager barely blinked at me when I told him I got mugged. Something told me he was used to people with blood running down their faces. He told me that I’d have to pay to get the locks changed on my door. I gave him a grotesque, bloody smile in return. He didn’t flinch at all.

“It’s too late now;
they cost the earth to come after hours, I’ll get them to come in the morning,” he told me before opening my door for me with a spare key. “Just make sure you shove something in front of your door, if your address was with your stuff, they’d know where you live.”

That was fine. I was used to b
arricading doors. After he left I leaned on the wall for support, before sinking down to the floor and sobbing loudly. God, I hated my life. Childhood was supposed to suck, and that was okay because we had no control over that, but I’d survived. The hard part was supposed to be over.

Someone banged on the wall. “Shut up, I’m trying to sleep!” It was a member of the noisy couple. I got up and marched over to the wall, banging my fists against it.

“You shut the fuck up!” I screamed.

They did. I half wanted them to come over here and get in my face. I wanted to beat someone to a pulp. But minutes passed with silence. Then someone did bang on my door. Showtime, I was going to get the shit beaten out of me for the second time today, but at l
east this time I had warning. I didn’t hesitate, and I strode the short space of the room to the door and yanked it open.

But it wasn’t my neighbour.
It was the tall figure of Brody, whose dark eyes one widened slightly in surprise at my bloodied and beaten appearance. Then his lips turned up in a smirk.

“Well, Violet. You really are violent.”

“Vicious,” I said. “I’m supposed to be Vicious.” But my heart wasn’t in it, and the statement came out weak in a weary, defeated voice.

That smirk remained. “I don’t think that’s true. May I come in?”

“Sure.” I probably didn’t hide my surprise, but I also didn’t care. “What do you want?”

He d
idn’t answer straight away. Instead, his eyes swept around the room. It was probably the size of a closet at his place, and the brown walls looked remarkably like shit. Finally, his eyes landed back on me. Although I hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, I imagined that I looked as bad as the apartment. My throbbing face was started to swell, and the taste of blood was still metallic in my mouth.