Geez... I don't really know what to tell ya about this story. I had no idea where I was going with it while I was writing the first few paragraphs. I was mostly focused on writing emotions and details. As the plot progressed however, it ended up going in this direction. Heed the M rating. This isn't one of my normal stories. I don't want anyone to be offended, so turn back if you think the world is made of gumdrops and rainbows, because this isn't the subject matter for you. This is a one-shot; meaning I didn't get into the characters too deeply. Also, this is a bit far out of my comfort zone, so any type of criticism would be helpful. Enjoy.
"I dream about him sometimes."
Her voice was hoarse. She brought the cigarette to her lips, sucking it in deep, holding it in until she felt faint. Finally, she expelled the smoke in a sharp breath, watching it curl into small wisps and float away.
Her companion sat next to her, her own cigarette in hand, every now and then taking a sip of her whiskey bottle. She had no particular liking to hard alcohol, but her heart craved the burning feeling it caused traveling down her throat and into her stomach.
"Stop sleeping," she said shortly. There was anger in her voice, but she made no attempt to mask it. Her eyes were narrowed, her movements jerky and unsteady. One would think she was alert to everything around her because of her darting eyes. In truth, she was hardly aware of anything else besides the woman next to her and the bottle gripped tightly in her hand.
"It's not like it does me any good," she replied just as shortly. Her throat was starting to hurt now. She reached inside her small purse, almost knocking the contents onto the ground. Her hand began to shake almost spastically as she took another cigarette out and desperately held a lighter to the tip.
Gulping the smoke in as if it was air, she relaxed once again. She had not the slightest clue as to how many packs she had smoked already. But the dream was strong this time. It came upon her suddenly, while she was completely clean. She didn't have the luxury of an alcohol-induced slumber. She had been completely sober as she had laid her head on the pillow, and she had refused the persistent prompts to take a drink out of the heavy bottle her friend held.
Her head drooped as she crossed her legs underneath her. It had been a strong dream; but it was good. They were coming so much now, that she often found herself on the verge of screaming out before she was ripped out of that world and shoved back into her real life.
Her skin felt warmer as she closed her eyes, clinging desperately to what she could remember.
There had been people. Many of them, circling her. Some she knew, others she didn't. Their faces were blurred, and she remembered feeling a bit of apprehension as they looked at her.
She also hadn't been wearing much. The memory was fading quickly, as all the others had, but she could only just recall a tight skirt, and an even tighter halter-top. Her breathing had hitched slightly as she had caught sight of him. He looked so magnificent. So powerful. So… impossible.
His attire was drastically different from hers. He was dressed as if he was out for a night on the town. And he probably was. His eyes looked her over, taking her in from head to toe. She didn't realize she had stopped breathing until he started walking to her.
She touched her hair lightly as she recalled the events that led to waking up with perspiration on her body. He was never too rough with her. His hands knew their way around her body well. She had pressed against him, wanting him with a hunger that scared her.
"Fucken piece of shit."
Her eyes opened slowly as her memories disappeared similarly to the way the smoke now curled above her head.
"What?"
The other blond regarded her with anger in her eyes. "Trish, this isn't working out."
She let her head fall back on the concrete wall behind her. "I'm well aware of that, Stace."
The taller blond shook her head furiously, stopping when she felt bile rising in her throat. "Then why the fuck don't you DO something about it?" she cried, her voice rising above the soft whine of the cars on the street.
"What do you want me to do?" she snapped, anger bubbling inside of her. "If I could get out of this shit I would. God," she whispered, tears brimming her eyes. "I would drop this shit so fast."
Stacy let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the air sharply. She stayed silent as she took another long drink from her bottle. Her whole body was burning. She barely felt the cold wind whipping her hair around her pale face.
She had to start eating more. Hunter had noticed her weight decreasing slowly, and she now wore the marks of his displeasure. Granted, she had managed to cover most of them with makeup, but they were there, like a humiliating brand.
"Go fuck yourself, Stratus," she said, her tender voice contradicting her harsh words. Deep inside her hardened heart, she cared for the woman sitting next to her. It wasn't much, but it was there. And in their world, the care of another human being meant more then all the money they could manage to make.
"I get fucked enough," the other woman replied, staring listlessly at the dumpster a few feet away from her. "And I'm so tired of this, Stace. I really am."
Stacy snorted. "I'm not. This is the life I always wanted." Her fingers pulled at the hem of her skirt.
"Why are you being such a bitch today?" Trish asked softly. Her throat was burning so much. It hurt to talk, but she had never been one to show discomfort. She brought her hand to her throat, attempting to rub the scratchiness away.
Stacy took a last drink from the whiskey bottle before hurling it away from her. It shattered with a loud sound, followed by the soft tinkling of falling glass. "We can get away if we wanted to," she said, wiping her hand across her mouth. Her eyes lit up with hope as she continued. "We can kill that motherfucker and take all his money. We can get away and never look back." Suddenly, she let out a loud sob. Her shoulders shook as she laid her head on Trish's lap. "We can get away one day, cant we?"
Trish forced back tears, as she ran her fingers soothingly through the other blonde's hair. "Sure we can sweetie. When he gets bored, he'll let us go quick."
"But what if he never gets bored?" cried Stacy, gripping her own hands tightly.
"He will," assured Trish, though she was doubting the validity of her own statement. "He gets bored of everyone eventually."
"I don't want eventually!" cried Stacy again. "I want now!"
Trish let through a smile small. Stacy really was young. Not much younger then her, but oh so naïve. Her innocence had been ripped from her several times, but she clung to the small hope that had extinguished long ago for Trish. She sighed as she raised the cigarette to her lips, flicking it away afterwards.
"Why cant we just run, Trish?" she asked, her voice subdued. "Run and never look back? Like Forrest?"
Trish shook her head. "Life aint like a box of chocolates," she answered. Her stomach squeezed painfully as it protested against her lack of food throughout the day. She had barely had time for a soggy cereal, and she was aware of this just now.
"You think hell is like this?" whispered Stacy. Trish could tell she was about to doze off. She gave her a sharp nudge. If she fell asleep with so much alcohol in her system, she wouldn't be able to wake her up.
"You don't worry about that," said Trish. She pushed Stacy off gently, wiping the seat of her skirt as she stood over her. Reaching down, she dragged Stacy to her feet, supporting her when she wobbled slightly.
"I hope they rot in hell," mumbled Stacy as they began to walk. Trish chanced a glance at her watch. Her face blanched. They were late. Hopefully, he would be too busy still playing a game of poker to notice and they could sneak in.
This, unfortunately, was not the case. She shut the door behind her as quietly as she could, stepping into the dim room. Her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Hunter. His hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he watched her.
She walked past him, almost out of his reach when his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to turn to face him.
"You're late."
She winced. "We're sorry, we-we just lost track of time." She avoided the looks she got from the other two men at the table.
"I say we punish her," drawled a voice to her left. She struggled with all her might not to let go of Stacy and slap the taste out of his mouth. Out of all of them, he was the one that could get to her the quickest.
Randy Orton considered himself a gift to the world, and woe was the one who tried to tell him otherwise. She turned cold eyes on him, her skin crawling as he swept his eyes over her lazily, a smirk in place. He lifted a blunt to his mouth, taking a deep puff. His eyes were red and his movements slow. If she was lucky, he was too far gone to do any real harm.
"Bitch has to know you mean what you say," he stated, glancing at Stacy, who was now standing on her own, although still swaying a bit. "Cant let them get all high and mighty."
Trish clenched her fists tightly as she saw him take a hold of Stacy's hand. He pulled her hard, and she fell on his lap. She immediately stiffened, her wide eyes focused on Trish.
"This one aint been eating," he observed, as he ran his hands over her stomach. He lifter her shirt enough to show Hunter. "See? Needs food to keep 'em comin'."
"I think she got the message," nodded Hunter, as his eyes bored into Stacy, who still refused to tear her gaze away from Trish. "Didn't you?"
She nodded mutely. She didn't want this. She wanted to be far away from here. If not far, at least upstairs, where there was a slim measure of safety. Not in the arms of someone she despised with every fiber of her being, answering to a man she had envisioned murdering countless times.
Trish watched as Randy let his hand wander inside Stacy's skirt. He did so unabashedly, not caring about the people around him. He raised the skirt higher, almost exposing her.
Stacy held back a cry as she held her breath.
"What the hell is wrong with this one?" demanded Randy. "Bitch is stiffer then what I got waiting for her in my pants."
Loud laughs greeted his comment as Trish tried not to cringe at their crude humor. She looked towards the man who hadn't said anything yet. He was older then them, his expression stoic as he studied the cards in front of him. Trish and Stacy had walked in in the middle of a poker game, and he almost seemed like he didn't notice their presence.
"Ric, what do you think about these two?" asked Hunter loudly. "Should they get the fuck out or hang out for a while?"
He didn't lift his eyes as he moved a card to the far end of his deck. "Don't really make a difference who you have around sucking your dick," he declared his voice low. "Still gonna kick your ass."
Trish sighed in relief inwardly as she saw Hunter turn away from her. "That so? You think you got me beat?"
Her eyes fell on Stacy again, who looked on the verge of tears. Randy had his hand up her skirt again, his mouth latched on her neck. Trish winced. She knew how harsh he could be. There was nothing she could do, however. If she so much as took a step towards them, Randy would start yelling at her to go away, more often then not, followed by a few hard slaps.
"You gonna be my lady luck?" Stacy cringed as his tongue traced her lobe. Her stomach was protesting to his caresses, and the alcohol wasn't agreeing to this either. She felt ready to pass out at any moment, but knew it was best she stayed awake.
Suddenly, Randy stood, almost causing her to fall to the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her up. "Stop being a clumsy bitch," he growled. He looked back as the two men stared each other down. "I fold," he announced. He turned to walk up the stairs, clamoring loudly. "I'm gonna get laid," he bellowed as he dragged Stacy behind him.
Trish bit her lip as she heard the loud slam of the door. How she hated that cocky bastard. If there were one person she could hurt, it wouldn't be Hunter. No, Hunter kept a roof over her head, and kept her well fed.
It would be Randy, with his arrogance and his attempts to make more money by skimping on the necessities the girls needed. They had been threatened by him more times then they cared to remember. He would tell them that he would take away their privileges of hot showers, so as to cut down the gas bill. He had taken the television sets out of almost every room and sold them. Now the only ones that were left were in the guy's rooms, and no show was good enough to risk going in there.
The fact that he was the youngest also made him more insatiable. His hunger for sex led him frequently into their rooms, demanding one or two of them at a time. Along with his arrogance, he was mean. One could tell he enjoyed belittling them all, something he did whenever he felt like making himself feel bigger.
A hard slap to her behind drew Trish out of her thoughts as she stumbled from the force.
"You daydreamin'?" asked Hunter, his eyes narrowed.
Trish shook her head as she hugged herself tightly. She wanted to be anywhere but here, under his cold eyes.
"Tell Torrie to get her ass over here. I've been hearing that she gives a bit of an attitude now." He stopped as his eyes bored into Trish. "Have you heard anything about this?"
Trish bit her lip. If she would even breath her suspicions that Torrie was pregnant, Hunter would kill her with his bare hands. But she was afraid that if she didn't, he would hurt her anyways, along with the baby.
"I think she's just a little homesick. Her mother's birthday was yesterday and she wasn't able to call and wish her-"
She fell against her seat as she felt a blow to her gut.
"I didn't ask you what you think," he spat. "I asked you if you know what the hell is wrong with her."
Trish held in a cry of anger as she gripped her stomach painfully, struggling to breath. He hadn't punched her hard, but even so, she was a small woman.
After a few minutes of labored breathing, she managed to straighten up and look him in the eye. "I don't know, Hunter. I'm sorry if I upset you."
His expression changed so suddenly, it was disturbing. His scowl was replaced with a sick smile as he leaned over and cupped her chin in one hand.
"There we go," he almost cooed. "Don't go getting all snippy you hear me? Wouldn't want me to do to you what I did to Victoria, now would you?"
No, she didn't want him to do to her what he had done to Victoria. He had almost killed her when he had found out of her plan to run away. She was still lying upstairs, in the coldest room, isolated from the rest of them. She had been a crying mess when Randy had gotten through his fucking, and a bloody mess when Hunter had gotten through with her. As different as she and Victoria were, Trish couldn't help but feel sorry for her. At least she had been brave enough to attempt an escape. What did she do? She had never tried to escape. Not once.
And the real reason for her staying, had just walked in.
Trish dropped her eyes as she caught sight of him walking in the door. He was wearing his usual suit. He didn't acknowledge her as he walked to Hunter and handed him a bag.
Hunter nodded in satisfaction as he looked inside, closing it quickly. "Not bad, Dave, not bad at all."
The big man didn't seem to hear him as his eyes finally settled on Trish. Her stomach jumped, although not from hunger this time. She could feel herself growing warmer, the space between her thighs already becoming moist.
"Anything else?"
His deep voice sent a tremor down her spine, as she kept her focus on him. The other two seemed too engrossed in their game to notice their staring contest.
"Naw, you can have one of 'em if you want, just know that Randy's in one of the rooms with Stacy," Hunter said absently, throwing down a pair of kings and smiling at Ric.
"I think I will," muttered Dave, eyes still on Trish.
Trish bit her lip at his words, hope filling her heart. Would they be together again? She almost moaned at the thought of his hands over her body.
"Where's Victoria?"
His words sent a blow to her gut, almost as bad as Hunter's punch before. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. He didn't want her.
"Stupid ass is still in the attic. Don't think she'll give you much of a good time; she probably cant even get up yet."
Dave shook his head. "I'll take her then." Without warning, he took hold of Trish's arm, and walked up the same stairs Randy had used. But he didn't yell boisterously. He was quiet, and Trish craved his silence. After all the cold words everyone else had told her, she yearn for someone who didn't say much.
And he rarely opened his mouth. His words were far and few in between, and he was the only one who wasn't completely hated in the whole house. Even Ric, with his grandfatherly looks, could be a bad man. He had been caught more then once taking a belt to one of the girls because she had 'sassed' him.
No, Dave was the only one they could actually stand. So far, he had never laid his hand on a woman to bring them pain. All of them wished to be under his care, as Victoria seemed to be. Because although now she was laying upstairs with serious injuries, she had been living better then any of them before. She was the only one who had a room to herself, and had to work less. She was the one who was able to get the choice of clothes, and was the least sought after by Randy. Due to her being Dave's favorite, she had been living good.
Until she had been discovered to be planning to run away.
Now, Trish hoped she could follow in her footsteps. She would love a room all to herself. Maybe she would share it with Stacy, but anything was better then living with four other girls with only two beds.
She seemed on her way. After Victoria had been laid up, she had been Dave's choice on more then one occasion. And now, here they were, in his room, about to do it again.
He pushed her on the bed gently. Standing over her, he began to unbutton his shirt slowly, watching her intently. Trish raised herself on her elbows, willing him to go faster. Her legs opened as he nudged them apart with his knee. Laying on top of her, his lips went to her breasts, almost exposed by her low cut shirt.
Trish threw her head back, reveling in all he had to offer.
His hand dipped lower, tracing the hem of her skirt. She arched her back, trying to touch as much of him as she possibly could. Hands clutched at his bare back as he put his hands over hers, leading them to his pants.
Trish got the hint as she struggled to hurry up and get his belt off. She managed, finally, and she tossed it aside, unable to contain herself. He did something to her. And while she knew it wasn't right to feel like this about a man who pushed her to sell her body on the streets, she couldn't help it.
Her eyes drifted closed as she felt him slid his hand up her thigh smoothly. He hooked his fingers into her panties, sliding them halfway down her legs. Trish suppressed a moan as he traced her lips softly with his finger.
"Care to watch, Orton?"
Trish's eyes snapped open as she saw him looking at the door behind her. Her face flushed red as she tried to pull her skirt lower.
Randy was standing with his arms across his chest, Stacy nowhere in sight. He had probably left her crying in the room across from them. A habit of his was to make the girls feel as dirty as possible as soon as he was through with them. It surprised Trish how someone so handsome was able to think of such horrible things to say to another human being.
"Maybe later, big guy. Hunter sent me over here to tell you that Victoria's awake and she's been wantin' to see you." His voice lowered, as if afraid someone might hear him. "I think he plans on gettin' rid of her tonight, so you better get the shit ready."
Trish felt herself stop breathing. Get rid of her?
"What are you talking about?" she asked, in a small voice.
Dave lifted himself to his feet as he pulled his shirt on again. "You know what that means, Trish," he said evenly. Her name on his lips sent a shiver through her, despite the situation.
"What the fuck do you care?" Randy snapped. One of the things he hated more then spending money on the girls, was questions coming from the girls. They were there to make him money and give him pleasure. Anything else would earn them a black eye.
"There'll be another free room in the house," Dave said, tying his belt again. He sent her a grim smile. "You girls are always complaining about the lack of space, maybe you'll get the room Vic used to sleep in."
For once, his voice didn't make Trish's stomach flutter. The calm way in which he was talking about disposing about another person without even seeming to care was threatening to make her spill the contents of her stomach.
"Okay," she managed to whisper. Fear was gripping her heart as he swept his eyes over her again. A sliver of panic gripped her, making her feel lightheaded. Finally, he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"Maybe we'll finish this later."
She barely nodded as he closed the door after him, rushing to the toilet in the bathroom. Her body trembled as she heaved. There was nothing in her stomach in the first place. She closed her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms. She didn't want to wait around for them to kill her. She didn't want to walk on eggshells in fear of her life.
She wasn't living a life anymore. She was going through hell. Her whole life was dominated by these men. She had clung desperately to the idea that maybe one day, he would take her away from it all. That one day, he would realize this wasn't the life for either of them and take them away to a place where no one would be able to find them.
But instead, he was gradually slipping further into this lifestyle.
Trish managed to pull herself up to the sink. She avoided looking at her reflection. There was nothing she wanted to see. She opened the mirrored doors slowly, her breath coming in heavy pants.
She had left her family for this. She had left Canada with such big dreams. She had hoped, and wished, and worked for everything. But it hadn't been enough. Her bills had piled themselves into a small mountain, burying her alive. Her job at the restaurant barely left her anything. When Hunter had propositioned her, she had been so desperate, she had said yes.
Now she could only wish for the days when she was back with her mom and dad. Anything was better then this.
She reached in to take the aspirin bottle, which was almost full. Maybe a few pills would calm her nerves. Her head was pounding horribly now, and she felt like throwing up all over again. She filled a cup with tap water and threw her head back as she swallowed the pill. Closing her eyes, she took another one.
There had been a time when she had been happy. When she thought she had it all. Her hand shook as she raised the cup to her lips once more, to force down a pill that seemed lodged in her throat.
Her parents had had such high expectations for her. They had wanted her to finish college in Toronto, and then come over to the states. But she was stubborn. She felt so sure of herself. So confident that she could get whatever she wanted.
Her eyes filled with tears as she held a pill in between her teeth. Her body was so tired now. Everyday, she would come here with a new bruise. Her once shining eyes had grown dull, as if someone had blown out their fire.
Her body grew sluggish as she held the cup under the tap to fill it with water again. She almost knocked the pills to the floor as she reached for them.
Where were her mother and father now? Did they think she forgot about them? Hunter didn't allow them to keep in touch with their family. All the girls were cut off from the outside world. It was watching girls her age hold hands with someone they cared about, laughing as if they had no cares in the world, that made Trish the saddest.
Taking a deep breath, she took another deep gulp of water. She couldn't do this much longer. Eventually, she would have to stop. But as long as she could force it, she would have to.
She grasped the shiny pill in her hand, studying it intently. Everything seemed so much brighter. She flung it in the air, almost giggling when she caught it in her teeth. She finished the rest of the water silently.
Her eyes closed as she felt a strong wave of dizziness pass through her. She would sleep. She had to sleep if only for a little while. Her legs felt like lead as she stood in front of the mirror, unable to move. She felt a million emotions coursing through her body, none of them pleasant.
Gradually, Trish felt herself floating. She observed the dark eyes that seemed to haunt her. The bleached hair that she had been forced to maintain. The pale skin, that had once been so healthy.
She shook her head in disgust as she walked away from herself.
She believed in hell.
Maybe when she got there, she would find it was not as bad as the life she had left behind.
It only took a while for them to find her. The four men shook their heads. She was one of their biggest moneymakers. Now, they would have to find another girl to take her place.
Oh well, the business had to keep going.