His hard, tattooed chest bumps against mine and before the contact can take my breath away, he roughly snatches me by the hair, my scalp burning from the rough grab, terror strikes through me and my finger pulls the trigger of the gun back, but it’s hard and doesn’t move; the safety’s on. Shit! His fingers tangled in my dirty hair cause flakes of dirt to flutter down in between us, both of us watching them land on his chest. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, both from being disgusting and not able to shoot him. Taking his hand from my muddy strands, he calmly opens his palm, revealing a coat of dust against his glowing skin.
Gripping the gun, I raise it into the air ready to smash his face in, but he suddenly jerks me away from the wall and throws me over his shoulder, my hand dropping the gun to the floor in the process. He turns us around and the sound of a door being shoved open can be heard before lights are turned on. I see a counter, a sink, a gray bathmat. I’m in a bathroom. The sound of a shower curtain sliding across a metal rod vibrates through my body, the squeaking pitch of the water being turned on making me look over my shoulder only to find a showerhead spraying beads of water into a bathtub.
He loosens his grip and topples me into the shower, freezing cold water bites into my flesh and I scream out with surprise. He grabs the shower head down and sprays it in my face. I spit and sputter, trying to breathe as it goes everywhere at once. My eyes, nose, and mouth. I can’t breathe or see, I turn away from him, practically crawling up the wall to get away from him. Bottles of shampoo and body wash go flying into the tub and across the room as my hand swipes across the ledge. Head down, I take a deep breath and look under my hair at him, he takes a drag from his cigarette, the other hand holding the showerhead.
“I tried to be a nice guy, but you want me to be the bad guy, huh? I’ll be an asshole for you!” He sneers, spraying the water onto my back.
Fuck, it’s so cold it feels like a million knives stabbing into my flesh, the thin dress doing little to protect my skin. Breathing heavily, I look down at the water, rivulets of muck swirling around my feet and into the drain. He did tell me to run, he said I could be free but that doesn’t make him a nice guy. Many men in my life tell me the lies of sweet freedom only to chase me down, or mockingly laugh in my face. I’m a naïve person, not a stupid one. I suck on my lip, trying to drink in some of the water. I don’t know when the last time I had anything to drink, but the cold water tastes so good, I keep suckling and sipping trying to ignore the arctic ice numbing my skin. The cheap dress is soaked and heavy, causing it to slip down my shoulders and into the crook of my arms.
Romeo
In my room, I grab some sweats from the dresser and shuffle them on, my hair in my eyes, I swipe it out of the way to look at the bathroom door that harbors the pain in the ass I took home mere hours ago. I was hoping she’d fucking leave, why is she here? Exhaling a sharp breath, I pick the gun up off the floor and turn the safety off, placing it in the back of my waistband. She tried to shoot me. I didn’t expect that. She tries that shit again and I’ll be the one pulling the trigger, and the safety won’t be on.
And even after I offered her clean clothes, she still had on that damn dress, which is soaked now. I go to the guest room and grab the clothes I set out for her still sitting at the end of the bed and put them on the bathroom counter, steam from the shower and the smell of my body soap filling the space, before shutting the door.
I run my hand down my face. What the hell do I do with her? Should I offer her some money? Surely she has family or friends she wants to get back to.
Not sure what to do, I sit on the end of my bed and stare at the door, waiting for her to come out so I can ask her what she wants.
Thirty minutes pass before the sound of the water shuts off. Her shadow slips back and forth across the bottom of the door, and I hear drawers opening and shutting as she goes through my things. My neck tenses. I’ve never let anyone go through my house, let alone my things. What the fuck is she looking for? I stand, beginning to pace.
I flick the light on in the bedroom and cross my arms; waiting. I swear if she doesn’t come out in the next three minutes—
The knob turns, and the door slowly opens, revealing a girl I don’t recognize. She’s a woman, not some girl. Instead of muddy brown hair, it’s long and beautifully blonde. Her diamond shape face clean, her nose small but cute. She bites on her bottom lip which sticks out farther than her top, her right foot anxiously sliding back and forth over her left as she looks down, her hands clasped in front of her. She’s gorgeous cleaned up. Of course my clothes are way too big for her. My shirt hangs off her shoulder showing the start of her breast, the bottoms barely on her hips even though she double tied the drawstrings.
“Um…” I clear my throat, a little caught off guard here. “I’m sorry about the clothes, it’s all I have.”
She doesn’t respond. I’m
