Chapter 8

His hands grip my hips as a scream leaves my lips.

Am I about to pass out?

Run?

I don’t know.

My mother’s behind that glass partition, and the position she’s in is one I never want to see again. Still, here I stand with it being seared into my brain like a branding iron would mark cattle for the rest of their lives. I pull trying to get away, but his hands grip harder into my hips. I’m breathing heavily and afraid my breaths will leave me at any second. She can’t see me, even though her eyes are glassed over and she’s looking straight at us.

“Who are you?” I ask turning to him.

His hands lift from my hips and I watch as he stares at me. He’s watching my face for my reaction, wondering what I’ll do.

“Connick,” he states.

His name—the first real piece of information I’ve gotten from him.

I attempt to walk away, but he grabs hold of my hand, stopping me.

Turning back to him my lips form a hard line. “Let. Me. Go,” I say pulling to get my hand free.

“You sure you don’t want a room, Milanka?” his voice is teasing.

Shaking my head, I pull again with no luck. “I want to go.”

He releases my hand, and just before I can make it to the front door, he’s right behind me pulling it open for me to exit.

“What do you want?” I scream at him.

His eyes skim around outside the building then land back on me. “I want to drive you home.” He walks to his car and pulls the passenger door open. I look around in the desperate hope that I can use a cab, but the night is dead quiet.

So, I comply and walk to it and climb in. Connick shuts the door, walks around the front of the car and slides into his seat. As he drives, I stare out the window and wonder what my next move will be. Because right now I need to get away again, and this time I won’t let those dark, sexy voices with hypnotizing eyes break my will.

Before I realize it, he comes to a stop and just before he has a chance to say anything, or even move, I get out of the car and run, straight to my house, quickly moving through the door and locking it behind me. My back slides down the door, I hold onto my knees for support, while I wait to listen for his car, hoping he will drive off and I never have to see him again.

Six Months Later

I woke in a hospital with Marina standing over me a few months ago. It’s happened again, a trigger, she informed me.

The thing about having a psychotic episode is that you don’t remember what you did. They come, and it’s like someone else that takes control of your mind and body. The only way to come down, for me in the past, has been hospitalization. That was how I met Marina, the first time it happened, and she’s been my psychiatrist ever since. She’s explained to me that they can never pinpoint why the episodes come or return. But most cases people live a healthy life, and some never regress into the psychosis again. To hear that mine has returned scares me more than anything else in this life. I don’t even understand these episodes, so I see Marina all the time to make sure I’m okay. Even when I no longer needed to see her, when I was placed on medication and hadn’t had an episode for years, I still kept on seeing her. In a way it made me feel like I was staying healthy that way. If I saw someone who could potentially help me if I was steering down the wrong path gave me strength. Marina analyzed me for months. I didn’t want to leave the small hospital she worked at because it felt safe to be there, even if the medication had done its job. So I stayed longer than necessary.

Putting it down to Connick and what happened, I moved away, I had to. I can’t risk that situation again, especially with him knowing where I live and who I am. I should’ve known something was off with him, but I let him get way too close for even for my liking. So, I did what was best for me, I packed what I had and moved.

One state away felt like a fresh start. I didn’t know a soul here, and I knew I would never see anyone I knew.

Finding a job was easy, bartending work is easy to come by, especially when that’s all you have done. I felt bad about leaving my previous job with no notice, it was something that I had to do, though.

My new bartending job is completely different to my last one. This place is full of suits and I have to dress the part to match. Short black skirts with a clean, crisp white shirt and heels. There aren’t as many employees as my last place, it’s just me on today and later another bartender will take over.

I kind of like the slowness of it all and the vibe of this place. The floors are all shiny and polished wood. The bar top is made from black marble and it has a sleek design. Another bonus is it’s located right around the corner from my apartment which I found to rent. Still just as small as my last one, but I don’t need much, my life doesn’t need much. I should want more out of my life, like going to college and maybe finding something I’m passionate about. But, here I am in yet another bar, serving the rich and college-educated people.

I haven’t been with anyone since Connick, too afraid and not wanting to, which is all very new to me. That connection I claimed to have when I wanted sex is low now, especially since I know the aftermath of what that brings and where it leads. So, I try to say no to it and so far I have succeeded, but I’m afraid at how long that will actually last considering my past.

I see my mother in my dreams a lot lately. She still looks the same, so much like me it’s scary. Her hair just as black, her skin just as pale. But her eyes hold a void I’m afraid I have too, one that can never be filled. Not once has she ever tried to reach out to me or even look for me since the day I left. I called her once and she was so drunk I couldn’t understand a word she said.

Connick has a well-worn position in my nightmares. He’s a mystery, someone I don’t understand. How could he have known who she was, let alone who I was?

Watching as the other bartender walks in, I finish wiping the bar down and stack the glasses away ready for my shift to end. He nods to me but doesn’t speak as he walks behind the bar. I place my till card up on the counter for him and grab my bag, ready to walk out. Today is pay day so I have to run out and buy some food. I’ve been running low lately due to having to come up with money to pay for my new apartment, so I’m excited to do a full shop.

The grocery store is just one block away from where I work, and when I enter, I grab what I need—the essentials and nothing more. Only living on noodles and bread, you become accustomed to it and don’t have a need for much else if that’s all you know. Occasionally, I will buy ice cream or chocolate, but very rarely. My last job used to feed us on our breaks, but this new job doesn’t have a kitchen, all they serve is just straight up alcohol.

I push my cart to the front of the store and start loading everything up. My heels are digging into my feet and I want to kick them off. The cashier smiles as she starts scanning my items. I look down at my feet and see the heel is red and a little blistered—I really need to buy some new shoes. As I look back up to grab my purse, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around I notice a person I don’t recognize.

She smiles at me and drops her head to the side. “Malinka?” Her voice sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it.

Where do I know her from?

“It is you, isn’t it?” she says again. “It’s me… Nicole.”

I revolt, taking a large step back. Forgetting her was easy, she was a bitch and not someone I want to remember.

“Yes…” I manage to squeak out, wishing it didn’t sound like that, wishing I just grabbed my things and walking out instead of answering her. Her hand goes up on her hip, and she looks me up and down, turning away from her I catch sight of a little person pulling on her shirt.

“I’m so sorry I was a bitch to you back then.”

Her words stun me as I hand the cashier my money.

Time freezes, and I think back to what an utter cunt she really was.

Sixteen Years Old

I had let him use me for far too long. A part of me knew it was wrong, that I should find a way to tell him that I didn’t want to do those things he wanted from me. But somehow, I also seemed to enjoy them. I wasn’t sure if it was the after-presents, or the actual act of sex and how the men looked at me once I was naked.

I had my new bag over my arm, the one Derrick had bought for me of course, as well as the new shoes that were on my feet. Walking outside to my usual place to eat, I wondered where I would go. We had two more weeks left of school and I couldn’t wait to leave every person I knew behind. Not because they scared me, but to try to be a different person without the heaviness of my mother’s actions and how I was perceived by them.

Derrick didn’t sit with me at school, he was always with his friends, and I never once tried to interfere with that. I was more than happy to stay by myself for an hour a day for lunch, sitting down at the table near the football oval in my usual position. Today, though, just as I opened my sandwich—which was rare to have, but thanks to Derrick I seemed to have more of what I never had but needed—voices grew louder. Not wanting to risk being caught staring, I stayed where I was and picked at my food. A bag dropped in front of me and landed on my food.

Turning to my side, I saw Nicole, the same Nicole that was obsessed with Derrick. She hated that he showed any interest in me at all when there was someone like her available.

Gathering my stuff, I went to stand, her hand touched my shoulder, and she pushed me back down with the gentle force of her hand. I’m sure if I wanted to I could have maybe overpowered her and walked away, but I didn’t want the confrontation that would inevitably come along with that. So, I sat and waited for her words to assault me instead.

“Stop following him. He doesn’t even like you. You’re trash.” She spoke her words near my ear and a shiver wanted to break free all over my body with her being that close. “I heard he pimps you to all his friends. You’re like his own little slut.” Another assault of words. I could hear Nicole’s friend laughing behind her. My eyes stayed downcast. I didn’t want to deal with her, I didn’t even want her near me. She continued, “He tells me you know, what a slut your mother is and how much like her you are. He only keeps you around because of that reason… because you open your legs at his command. Do you know most girls don’t do that?” She laughed and shook her head. “You probably don’t though, being raised by a slut and all.” Her hand clasped the back of my hair, she pulled it hard then slammed my face into the table. I could taste the blood, my head felt foggy and I saw stars, so I stayed where I was. Not wanting to look up or deal with her at all, she smacked the back of my head as I kept it down. Finally, I heard her footsteps walk away.

I stayed exactly where I was even after the bell rang. Desperately, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.