Alayke Tru lost everything in her life with a single bullet. All her family is dead. She's ignored by almost everyone. All she wants to do is go home but home doesn't exist anymore.
If Alakye is willing to take the risk, she can disappear in...
"Found what you hide," he smirks at me. The basket drops on the bedside table. A blue baby blanket spills out from the side of it. Expensive cologne permeates my skin from his unwelcome touch. The scent of him is thick, like the hands never left my body. My headache pounds faster than my heartbeat. The bedroom is finally empty of his friends, but we both know this isn't over. We stare each other down.
The heat behind my eyes burns. I keep that hot anger tamped down. Blood from my busted nose rolls down over my lip and drops to the white carpet. A red stain blooms like a crimson rose on the rug. My angry eyes never leave his.
It's never smart to look him in the eyes. Maybe, just maybe, for a second, he sees himself in my brown gaze. Can he see the reflection of his foul touch in my eyes? Does the mirror of my irises show him his sickness? Does he know what we do is wrong?
What we do...
What he makes me do.
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It's wrong.
I spit a fat salty glob of blood red mixed with them. It lands near his bare feet in a splash. His eyes shine. Glee lights him up. My stomach turns with waves of grease roils, I always get in my gut at our interactions. It sickens me his thirsty eyes that roam my body. An all too familiar chill sinks into my skin. My jaw tightens.
Never look in his eyes.
Not very smart, Alayke.
Not very smart at all.
"I didn't finish the job the first time," he smiles at me. "I can correct that now..," I stay quiet. If I stay still he might leave the basket alone. Maybe.
Snuffles and snores from the basket lure my gaze away from him. He places his hand gently on the basket, caresses the contents like he cares. His hand opens the bedside drawer. He pulls a hunting knife out
My eyes snap down to the ground locked on his bare feet.
Eye contact always makes it worse. I know better. But I've never been all that smart. He places the knife next to the basket just in my eye line. The only thing in this house I care about is in that basket.
Desperate terror milked from every moment.
He smiles garishly wider.
The bed dips with his weight. I can feel his eyes watching me, and his thirsty malice creeps across my skin. His fly is wide open. A belt buckle hangs to the side and swings. The swing is like the tick of a clock. With each count, it ticks down my fate.
I am a lighting bug in a glass jar as he watches my body. He waits for me to make my move.I look up to catch his sickly smile. His satisfaction stretched over his wide gruesome smile.
He'll hurt them no matter what I do.
Fear sweat and goose bumps spread over my skin. Hot bodies, sex, drugs, fear, and his expensive cologne cloud my mind. I can't breathe.
He'll hurt all of us.
I take a step forward because I'm a fool. I can't let him if there is a chance, however small, that he might not hurt us. I know what he will do with that basket. Anything to hurt me.
One lurch of a step at a time. My feet shuffle forward like a zombie with a wide noose wrap around its neck. I trip over the cordless phone. It was knocked over in the earlier struggle with his stupid friends. I lift my ripped shirt over my head and then the rest of my clothes. I take another step and stumble forward while unsnapping my jeans. My hands shake around the buttons. I pull down my jeans over my shivers. He stands up from the bed and yanks my arm forward, then behind my back.
He moves his mouth directly behind my ear. His cold lips brush against my flesh. The smell of his expensive cologne and his excitement fill my nose. His stench is inescapable this close, he brushes his cheek against mine.
He whispers breathily into my ear, "scream," and wrenches my arm.
