Page 54 of Grace

His warm breath caressed my skin, but I couldn’t find comfort in his words or his gentle kiss. “Liar!” I wanted to shout as he pressed his soft lips against mine.

“I love you,” he whispered so quietly it seemed like a silent dream.

I shook my head, crying, when he stepped behind me and struck me with the belt. The leather strap stung. I moaned in pain and rose onto my tiptoes when the next blow came.

The merciless slapping of leather against my skin and the sound of my sobbing echoed eerily in my skull.

I was standing there, naked and helpless, with a sadist behind me who claimed that he loved me. And yet he beat me bloody. The strap cut my skin open. My sensitive skin burned, and the disgusting, metallic taste of blood pushed the suffocating smell of mold out of my mind.

I was trembling, crying, and clenching my teeth while blood sprayed into the air. My body was swimming in thick, odorless sweat. My muscles revolted, pulsating and throbbing, then the last strike made my legs collapse—I fell face-first to the floor. I curled into a fetal position and cried.

Chase threw the leather strap that he had been holding against the wall; it hissed through the heavy air before hitting it.

He dressed, wreaked havoc in the room, then stormed out and left me among the broken pieces.

August 2007

I was much more afraid of Bo and his gang than of Chase Baker. They exuded corruption the way a carcass exudes decay. They often spent weekends in our house in the middle of nowhere, because here, where there were no neighbors, they could turn the volume up as high as they wanted. Our house often shook with the bass.

In those days, I always shut myself in my room because Bo’s gang was dangerous. They were like unkempt outlaws from an old Western: whatever little money they eked out of crime, they spent on booze, cigarettes, and drugs. They were a gang of robbers who didn’t give a shit about their sorry lives or their empty souls. Their hair was always greasy, their nails dirty, their teeth decaying. They reeked of alcohol, sweat, and cigarettes. They always ate everything they found in the fridge—which was filled from my salary.

They were aggressive and loved terrorizing people, just as they loved vandalism. They treated women with no respect, treated them like whores. They didn’t have sex—they rutted like animals. I could always hear them through the thin walls of our house.

It wasn’t luck that helped me avoid them—it was survival instinct. Whenever they arrived, I turned invisible. They often banged on my door—but fortunately, they never broke into my room. They wanted to lure me out to join their party, but Nikky and the other girls proved to be enough of a distraction for them to give up after a while.

That morning, I was certain that all of them had already gone. I had been holding my pee for hours—and while this was definitely not the first time, I desperately wanted relief.

I held Whiskers to my chest, opened the door, and sneaked a glance at the living room. It was a disaster.

An icy chill ran down my spine, but I steeled myself and stepped out of my room. I hurried to the bathroom and opened the door without thinking. When I saw Bo standing there with his back to me, shirtless, his pants halfway down, I froze. I closed the door as fast as I could and ran back towards my room. However, that piece of shit was faster than me and blocked the door.

“What’s the hurry, Grace?”

Whiskers growled and hissed, his hair standing up, and sunk his claws in my shoulders. He could probably feel Bo’s repulsive, dark aura and the negativity he radiated.

“You always disappear so fast when we arrive,” he said, grinning at his own humor. I took my gaze off him. Bo clapped his hands, making me jump. “So, it is true.”

I looked at him.

“The word on the street is that you think you’re very special.” He traced the outline of my body in the air. A wave of nausea hit me. He reached toward me to tuck my hair back behind my ear, but I pulled my head away. He laughed in dark mirth.

“I just want to go back to my room,” I whispered. “Where is Nikky?” I stumbled over my words.

“Out getting some food.”

“She must be back soon.”

“And what if Nikky isn’t the one I’m interested in?”

My heart raced.

“Your sister said you enjoyed what that Chase kid did to you. Is it true, Grace?”

I didn’t reply.

“And she also told me you’re pals with a cop.”

I didn’t reply to that, either.