“Wonderful.” She beams, and the door opens.
I tense when my father joins the party. “A word. Now,” he orders the woman.
She gets up and goes to the back of the room while I remain seated.
“Still nothing?” I hear her speak softly.
“No.” My father’s friend snaps. “What’s with all that garden shit? It should have worked by now.”
She sighs. “There are many reasons as to why…” Her voice lowers, and I can’t make out what she says.
“If you’re no use to me, then why the fuck are you here?” my father snaps, not caringthat I can hear him.
The woman mumbles softly, and again, I can’t hear her.
“Isn’t that like a test tube thing?” His friend laughs. “What’s the point of knocking up a woman if you can’t use your dick to get the job done?”
I wiggle in the cold seat, trying to fight the zip tie, but it’s no use. I’ve come to like the pain they make me feel.
“You have to start considering other options. Her health isn’t…ideal.” The woman goes on whispering. “She may technically be a woman, but she’s still a child. She’s malnourished and irregular…her body is telling you it’s not ready.”
“So you’re suggesting that we try shooting her up with hormones?” My father sounds skeptical.
“I’m saying don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” she insists.
His friend laughs. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Unbelievable,” she mutters softly.
The door opens and a third man enters. He looks over my head at the back of the room. “Your son is looking for you.” He glances at me. “I told him to wait for you upstairs.”
“Christ,” the man hisses. “I’ll be right back.”
My eyes open, pulling me out of that nightmare, and I stare at the ceiling. Reaching over, I pick up my cell and see it is almost midnight. I get up and walk to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of Jack and a shot glass out of the freezer, I fill it to the brim and throw it back, hissing in a breath.
My eyes catch sight of the flowers sitting in the center of the kitchen table.
They mock me.
I let Kashton fuck me, and he sends me flowers? What the fuck is up with that?
I’ve never received flowers in my life. What do I do with them?
You water them so they can grow.
I want to vomit at the ironic metaphor.
Why would I want to water them? They’re just going to die. Like everything else in this world. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.
Grabbing the bottle, I leave the shot glass and stomp my way to my bathroom. I need to break some shit, but first I have to get ready.
I spend the next couple of hours shaving my entire body, doing my skin care routine, hair, and makeup, as if I’m planning on going out to the bar to take a man home to fuck.
You’ve got to give them something to stare at. While their hands are on your ass and their eyes are on your tits, your finger should be on the trigger. They’ll never see it coming.
Once ready, I return to the kitchen, grab another two bottles of liquor, and make my way down to my basement.
I unlock the door and descend the stairs, my heels clapping on thehardwood. Flipping on the light, I smile, looking around at all the stuff that was once beautiful before I destroyed it. I pick up the mallet that hangs on the wall that hasfuck with mewritten in red lipstick on the handle.
