Page 2 of Vengeful Devotion
It takes a few tries, but I finally get the water to come to life. I catch my reflection in the mirror. My azure eyes are bloodshot and drained. I undress, hissing at the pain from sliding my clothes off. Bruises, scratches, bite marks, and welts from Lonny’s scorpions cover my pale skin. A present from the last visit Lonny paid me. I thought he’d finally leave me alone when I turned twenty. I thought I wouldn’t be his type anymore. How wrong I was. I shake my head clear, trying to stave off the panic attack that I know will come from this line of thinking.
I step into the shower, letting the lukewarm water rain over me. The poor pressure can't wash the grime and stress from my skin quickly enough. Out of habit, I keep my shower quick. Washing my long, honey-colored hair with the mini shampoo and conditioner.
Wrapping a stiff towel around me, I go back to the bed. My backpack is as full as I could get it. It doesn’t have much. Some clothes, a hairbrush, and miscellaneous belongings.
I pull a big tee shirt on. Sighing, I lay myself down on the bed. My body feels heavy. Exhausted. Not only from the long journey here, but from everything I’ve been through in the last twelve years. In the silence of this room, tears fill my eyes. I’m free. I’m finally free. It’s a strange feeling. One of relief and terror.
I lay myself on the bed and cry. I cry for the eight-year-old girl inside me who was robbed of a normal childhood. I cry for the cousin I left behind. For every single night, Lonny came to my room. For the father that never wanted a daughter. For the mother that abandoned me like I was nothing. For the first time in years, I let myself feel. I cry until there are no tears left in my body, only leaving behind the never-ending gut-wrenching pain.
* * *
Sleep doesn’t comeeasy to me. How could it? Every time I close my eyes, I’m in that bedroom again. The fear alone can keep me up for hours. So it’s no surprise when I wake long before the sun does.
I turn on the little tv but all that comes through is static. The quiet is driving me a little crazy. My anxiety makes it hard for me to stay in bed. Instead I get up and pace the carpet. Sending silent pleas to the universe to help me find a job. After a while, I pull my hair back into a braid before slipping a clean shirt and a pair of leggings on.
The moment the sun shines through the cheap curtains, I’m out the door. There’s no time to waste. Eventually, Lonny will find me here. The only way to be away from him forever is to go to another country. But to do that, I need money.
The first place I go to is a tourist shop full of cheap shirts and giant cups. Though the neighborhood I’m in doesn’t seem like much of a tourist place. There’s not one casino on this block. Don’t the tourists come for the casinos? A bell rings as I open the door. It’s a small shop. I can see the woman behind the counter from where I stand.
“Can I help you?”
“Um, yes. I was just wondering if you were hiring.”
“If I was, do you think I’d be here at seven am?”
I furrow my brows. Confused by her question. “No?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you know any place hiring?”
“The diner at the end of the street is always looking for waitresses.”
“Thanks. Um, have a nice day.”
She laughs, a scratchy sound. “I’ll have one of those when I die.”
I don’t know what to say to that. So, I give her a polite smile and hurry out. I follow the street, my worn-out tennis shoes making no sound on the concrete. The diner sits just where the woman said it would be. It’s as rundown as the rest of this neighborhood, but somehow, it seems livelier. The smell of French fries and waffles lures me in. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since early yesterday. I’m in such a hurry to get into the diner that I run straight into someone else. I grab onto the railing to keep from tumbling backwards.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t see you.”
The woman straightens herself. She must be in her early fifties. She sticks out like a sore thumb in this place, covered in expensive clothes and jewelry.
“That’s alright, dear. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” she asks with an accent I can’t place.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
The woman looks up at me. Her emerald eyes, red and watery. The fact that she’s crying sends fear through me. I must’ve really hurt her.
“Are you okay?”
She wipes a few tears from her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine. I was supposed to be meeting someone here, and he didn’t show.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure of myself.
“Well, again, I’m terribly sorry. I hope you have a better day.”
She moves past me, her flowery perfume following behind her. The scent reminds me of Lia. Perfume was her obsession. I watch the woman walk away for a few seconds longer before going inside.
