Serial (7 page)

However, as it turned out, that was a bad move on my part. It only pissed him off more.

With alcohol-thinned blood pouring like a fountain from his face, he grabbed my ankle, pulling me across the bathroom floor, not caring that the movement sent my body swinging out like a water skier behind a turning boat. Over the wake I went, the water on my skin granting me no friction against the smooth tile surface. My head, once again, crashed again the surface of something heavy, my vision blurring and my ears ringing from not only pain, but also my own bitter scream.

“You think I won’t make you pay for that, bitch? You think you can hurt me and get away with it?” He yelled like a madman hopped up on speed, his words slurring together, only clear to me because I’d heard them so many times before.

Once we’d made it to the living room, I’d been slammed against every wall we passed and a doorjamb. My head was throbbing, screaming at me to protect it, but the damage was already done. Waves of pain pulsed through me with each beat of my heart and I was only barely conscious when Billy picked me up, his fist hammering against my face three times before he threw me over the dirty and stained couch.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to pay for this, bitch. You haven’t let me fuck you in over a fucking year and I’m taking what I’ve been paying for.”

Spitting blood from my mouth, I felt a loose tooth move with my tongue. Glancing back, I could only make out his fuzzy profile, but the belt he was pulling from his pants was recognizable still.

My father hit me with a belt when I was a child; my mother too. I would mouth off or steal food when I shouldn’t have. Whatever sin I’d committed was always met with the sting of leather across my hide. I hated the pain, the embarrassment of having my naked butt displayed to my parents while they delivered however many lashes they felt I deserved.

Looking back now, the sting of their thin leather belt was nothing compared to the force of Billy’s thick metal buckle, one of those stupid novelty types worn by cowboys or fools.

I’m not sure how many times he struck me. Instead of trying to count the strikes, I thought of the injuries they caused. One time for each kidney, three times over the ribs of my back. My head cracked open a bit more when the buckle struck there and the backs of my legs took the next beating when I could no longer hold a defensive position. Over and over and over…ceaselessly delivered without mercy or concern.

I could barely breathe or move without causing myself more pain. So, by the time he grabbed my ankles again and when he pulled me across the couch, spreading my legs to position himself behind me, I didn’t fight. This would be one more insult added to the injury he’d already inflicted.

I thought he would just fuck me and move on. But what he did next made it clear he didn’t intend for me to live.

Wrapping the belt around my neck, he looped the end through the buckle, pulling tight so that I couldn’t breathe.

“Now, bitch, I’m going to ride you like the little whore you are.”

He pulled tight, using the belt on me like it was the reins on a horse. I choked and coughed, grunting and bleeding like a stuck pig.

I heard his pants hit the floor and the bastard couldn’t even take the time to lube me up before shoving himself inside. My body jerked forward every time he thrust in, my face scraping across the fabric of the couch, my skin burning from the friction. He slapped me on the ass, hollering out “Woo Hoo!” and “Fuck Yeah!” like he’d achieved 8 seconds on the back of a bucking bull.

The only thing missing from this scene was the blasting music of a radio with something loud and angry to cover my cries.

Guess it wasn’t needed. His free hand came down, shoving my face so far into the cushions that it muted every noise I made. Head forced forward and the belt pulled back and I fought for my last breath as he slipped his dick into an even tighter crevice of my body.

My body shook, its last rattled attempt to live before the convulsion took me miles away. Closing my eyes, I gave into the weightless escape of death, floating off to a place where Billy’s hands couldn’t touch me again.

Pity that it should end this way, especially considering there was no person alive who would mourn my loss.

I had no one.

I was no one.

But I did have one thing.

I had pride…because I didn’t go down without a fight.

***

“Wake up.”

A palm patted me softly against the cheek, but even the tender touch was too painful against my skin.

“Open your eyes and wake up.”

I didn’t recognize the voice and wondered if God himself was waking me on the other side. But if I was dead, why did I still hurt?

Cracking my eyes open as much as I could, I turned my head towards the direction of the voice. All I saw was the black silhouette of a body, backlit by flashing strobes of light. I could feel that we were moving and I heard the purr of an engine.

“Who are you?” I squeaked out over a torn throat and busted lips.

He chuckled. “Seems you’re a bit smarter than me. I hadn’t thought of asking that exact question every time I saw you.” His hand reached out to caress over my hair. “I’ll fix that now. Who…are you?”

“Ronnie.” Coughing, I struggled to talk, not even sure of the identity of the man to whom I was talking.

Tsking, he removed his hand from my head. “How unfortunate. Is that short for something else?”

Coughing again, I spit out, “Veronica.”

“Bit long. I’m not sure which one I loath more.”

The oddity of his statement didn’t sink in when I turned my head to the other side. I was in a seat. There was some form of a strap over me and flashing strobes of light flared in at me from a window

Time passed as I wondered how I wasn’t dead.

Finding the strength to speak again, I asked, “Where’s Billy?”

A soft chuckle responded followed by a moment of silence.

“Go back to sleep, Pet. You don’t have to worry about Billy ever again.”

Chapter Seven

~Ronnie~

I hurt.

Badly.

Soft light shone across my face and I could see it from beneath my closed eyelids. Waking up, I attempted to move, but my body protested with hot bolts of pain running along my arms and legs.

My pulse pounded in my head, the ache of my skull sharp and relentless.

I attempted to crack my eyes open, but couldn’t budge them more than a sliver. My thoughts moved back to Billy, to memories of what he’d done the night before.

I’d lived through it again…somehow. It was mornings like this, however, when I would wake up more upset that Billy hadn’t accidentally killed me than I was happy to be alive.

I must have gone to bed afterwards, most likely after he’d taken the sixty from the bathroom and left to go waste it on another long night drinking.

I couldn’t push myself up and it hurt too much when I attempted to roll over. I had to be at work today and I grew concerned that I would have to call out. There was no way I’d be able to wait tables in a condition like this.

A small pain shot through my heart when I thought that perhaps that nice man would show up again and I wouldn’t be there to serve him or talk to the only decent person I’d met in a while.

Breathing out heavily I realized it didn’t matter. He couldn’t be interested in me. He was everything I wasn’t. Rich, sophisticated and polished. He stuck out amongst a crowd, was the type to call attention by his powerful stride, his obvious confidence and his unbearable beauty.

Was it odd that as I lay there beaten and broken by one man, I thought of another? I didn’t think so. In fact, it was quite normal. I’d been seeking an escape from my life, a fantasy that would take me far from the hovel where I lived and the dive where I worked. I’d been seeking freedom from what my life had ultimately become.

That man with his light, striking blue eyes had been my escape. Even on the days when he didn’t come in, I had hope that he would. There had been an extra spring to my step since I first saw him, the naive belief that maybe he would one day tell me his name.

Standing at the counter, I would imagine him walking through the door. My eyes traveling lazily over the dips and shadows created on his face by the way light touched him. Always dressed in a tailored suit, he carried himself in a regal and self-assured way.

His stride was long, but not quick. He never seemed to be in a hurry, although I could imagine him running along the streets of downtown Portland going from one important business meeting to another.

My knees never shook in his presence until I heard his voice. Deep, with a smooth cadence, he used words I didn’t always understand, but I could figure out their meaning from the sentence he’d been saying.

It’s not like we had long deep discussions over coffee, and most of our conversations had been limited to polite, yet short, exchanges, but his was a voice I would never forget.

I was almost glad for that. I could never compete with him and I’d be too embarrassed to admit that I wasn’t anything near as educated as him.

I couldn’t lie around all day. I felt like shit and wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and forget I exist. Maybe I could lie here long enough that my body would give out from lack of water or food. Even if I’d been able to do so, Billy wouldn’t give me the chance.

Oh god. I wanted to get away from him. I’d imagined his death so many times. The assortment of ways I could kill him off without feeling a drop of remorse for having done so.

He was disgusting and vile. The type of man that had so much potential but wasted it on booze, women and drugs. If I hadn’t dated him in high school and ran away with him when I turned 18, I would have never dated him now.

His crass expression and blundering demeanor would have been a warning sign that he was the type to avoid. I wished he had developed those traits when we were younger. It would have saved me so many years of pain.

Finally pushing myself up on weak arms, I felt a hand touch my back and I jumped in response. A painful cry escaped my lips and the hand pulled away as I steadied myself over the mattress.

“You’d be smart to remain as still as possible for the next couple of days.”

My heart leapt into my throat, my pulse pounding so furiously that I felt light-headed from the rush of blood. I recognized the voice speaking to me, but there was no rhyme or reason for me to be hearing it.

I shook my head, deciding that I was hallucinating. I had to open my eyes. Had to look around at the piles of junk in my room and the stains on the ceiling so I remembered that I was home. Billy must have hit me upside the head too hard because I could have sworn the voice I’d just heard had been the man from the diner.

I didn’t hear him speak again. After a few seconds, I relaxed and attempted to force my eyelids apart so I would know for certain that he wasn’t there. Light crept in through the slivers I was able to open and it blinded me.

It wasn’t until this moment that I noticed other odd things about my environment. The normal rush of traffic and screaming adults and children was missing from outside my window. I didn’t hear the sirens of cop cars or ambulances, the familiar buzz of planes flying overhead. It was quiet. So much so that fear was being born inside me from the lack of sound.

It also smelled nice. That alone was confusing. Normally my apartment smelled of stale cigarette smoke competing against the remnants of beer or hard liquor that Billy always managed to spill on the carpet. Instead, my nose was met with the light musk of cologne, coupled with the fresh scent of laundry detergent. I believe there might have been a note of two of flowers lingering in the air.

Fuck. I wasn’t home.

Now balanced well enough with just my body, I raised my arms to attempt to pry my eyelids open. They were crusted over with sleep gunk and, most likely, blood. I couldn’t remember having showered after Billy assaulted me.

When I was finally able to open my eyes more, the room I was in started coming into focus. It was still hazy and my head hurt from the light, but from what I could tell, I was not in my own bed.

“Are you in pain? Would you like some aspirin or Tylenol? I’d offer you something stronger, but I don’t have anything at the moment.”

My body jumped again, but I couldn’t turn quickly to look at who was speaking. When I did finally see him, I froze where I sat.

I wasn’t hallucinating.

It was the man from the diner.

“No. I’m…actually, yes. Tylenol would be good.”

I felt him touch my back again and a cold glass being pressed into my hands. His fingers were pressed at my lips and when I opened them, I tasted the bitter tablet on my tongue. Bringing the cup to my lips, I felt him reach out to steady it as I drank.

When I was finished, the glass was removed from my hands and I heard the light clink of its base knock against what I assumed was a bedside table.

I didn’t understand any of this: Where I was. Why I was here. Why HE was here, most of all. Every possible reason raced through my brain and I quickly settled on the fact that perhaps I had been wrong about the man. Maybe he didn’t work in business.

He could have been an important person in law enforcement or maybe a doctor.

Both scenarios would make sense if someone had called the cops or an ambulance once Billy was through with me.

When he didn’t speak again, I asked a question to break the silence between us.

“Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“So, then you must be a doctor or nurse or something?”

The buzzing in my ears made his voice and the noises around me garbled and difficult to hear fully, but I still strained to see if I could make out the telltale beeps and whistles that usually accompanied medical equipment in the room. I didn’t feel any tubes attached to my body or any bandages, but my hand ran down the soft cotton of a gown or t-shirt that I was wearing.

I thanked god for the small favor of not leaving me naked in his presence.

He chuckled at my last statement, the sound breathy like a whisper. “I’m not a doctor…or a nurse.” He paused a beat before inquiring, “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”