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Michelle
“Andy, what the fuck? Are you k—get off me!”
“Come here, you stingy bitch.”
“No! What are—you’re drunk.”
I put my hand on his face to shove him away, but he grabbed it and twisted it around my back. He pinned me to the wall and licked up the nape of my neck with that disgusting tongue of his. I cringed, as tears welled in my eyes.
“I’m not taking no for an answer tonight.”
“Andy, fucking cut this shit—ow! You’re hurting me!”
“Stop it, Michelle.”
“No! You stop it!”
He pawed at me. Pushed my night shirt up and ground his cock against my ass. It made me sick, his touch on me. He bit into my skin and held me to the wall. How the hell was he so strong when he was drunk? I kicked my feet back as he struggled to get his dick out, and it gave me the chance to wrench away from his grasp.
“Get the hell off me!” I exclaimed.
I pushed him away from me and he stumbled into the television. It went over with a crash and went busting to the floor. He tumbled on top of it and I ran to our room, tears streaming down my face. I pushed our dresser in front of the door as he started pounding on it, my hands shaking with terror.
“Open this door, Michelle! We’re not done talking!”
“We weren’t talking in the first damn place!”
“The perk of having a girlfriend is supposed to be getting laid!”
“Yeah, and the perk of having a boyfriend is to be loved. Not tossed around and raped!”
He banged on the door as tears streamed down my cheeks. What a fucking loser I was. I’d been an idiot. A musician working on an oil rig for extra cash? What the hell had I been thinking? He was an idiot, and I was an idiot for falling for him. For loving him. For taking a chance on him and moving states away from everything I knew in order to be with him. I shoved as many clothes as I could grab into my empty duffel bag before I removed the false bottom in my underwear drawer.
Then, another crash came down onto the door.
Then another.
Then another.
And still, another.
“What the fuck are you doing, Andy?” I asked.
But all he did was continue to bang against the door with something.
I grabbed the little bit of money I’d been stowing away for myself and shoved it into the bag. I slipped into my shoes and tossed the rest of my things in, then zipped it up. I should have known better than to give Andy another shot. I should’ve known better than to think that man could have changed. And I wasn’t sticking around a second longer.
“I want you the fuck out of this house, bitch!”
“No problem,” I said, as I slung the bag over my shoulder. “Already ahead of you on that one.”
“I’ve got a future and it doesn’t include you.”
“I wouldn’t want it to include me even if you did.”
“You don’t deserve the future I’ve got going. I’ve got plans. Big fucking plans.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Tell me about your big, fucking, nonexistent plans. Please. You dead beat no good son of a—”
The dresser came crashing over at me and the door burst open. My eyes widened as that dark brown stare locked onto me. He charged me more quickly than I could have ever thought possible and pinned me against the wall. His arms wrapped around my wrists, keeping me from swinging at him before he pinned them against the window.
He crashed his lips onto mine and I bit down on his lower lip so hard it made him to bleed. Then I shoved past him and jumped over the dresser. Quickly grabbing the few things of mine that were lying around the living room as I passed through, I stormed out of the house.
But not before something knocked me in the head from behind.
I turned around, rubbing my head and saw my shampoo on the ground. Something else hit me in the forehead and it was a bottle of my conditioner. Then my body-wash. My toothbrush. Shoes, socks, hangers. Anything that man could throw that he thought was mine, he tossed straight at me. Hitting me from all angles and not bothering how many times he hurt me or cut me open in the process.
One month.
One month in this fucking town and I no longer had a place to live.
I picked up as much as I could, making sure he didn’t see the wad of money I had in my bag. If I spent it well, it could get me by for three months. But that was it. And that was if I didn’t blow it on rent somewhere. I shoved it all into my duffel bag, picking up what he threw at me. I didn’t have a car, so if it didn’t fit in the duffel bag it didn’t go with me. All the while he was yelling ugly disgusting things at me.
“Yeah, you slob. Take what I give you!”
“Pathetic. I don’t know why I screwed you in the bar that night.”
“Can’t even get a job? Bitch!”
“You’re worthless! I should’ve known the second you told me you had a two-year degree. Who gets a fucking two-year degree?”
Someone who paid for it on their own, that’s who.
I came to Stillsville with Andy after he’d lost his job in the oil fields just outside of Bismarck. A musician at night and a lean, hardworking, chiseled oil man by day. It was enough to get my engines roaring. And fuck, we had the sweetest sex. That stare-into-my-eyes type of sex. When he asked me to move with him, I thought it was forever. An adventure to the middle of nowhere with a man who couldn’t keep his hands off me. His lips off me. His eyes off me. It had all the makings of the adventure of a lifetime.
An adventure all right, but by now, the stars in my eyes were gone so I could see clearly, and all that was left was the dirt all over my things. And me heading out on foot in my nightshirt and dollar store flip flops, packing a duffel bag over my shoulder.
Andy was yelling loudly from the porch as I made my way to the sidewalk. He’d wake up the whole damn town yelling the way he was. My nightshirt hung down to my knees and my hair was thrown haphazardly into a bun. The underwear I wore hadn’t been washed properly in I didn’t know how long. I’d scrubbed my clothes in a sink for two weeks because our washing machine broke and I didn’t have the money to fix it.
Andy was okay with stained clothes, but I wasn’t.
I briefly thought about a cab, but figured it was better to save all I could. I was only a mile from Anton’s house and I knew his door would be open and I could crash there. After all the times he’d taken me in, I was sure he wouldn’t mind doing it this time.
After all, I didn’t have anyone in this town anymore.
I took me almost an hour to lug my shit to Anton’s house. The duffel bag was heavy and it was almost two in the morning. I got lost twice trying to get there in the dark. All the roads looked the same in the dim moonlight of Illinois. I dragged my bag behind me the last two blocks, sweating bullets and sucking air so deeply I was choking on the dirt I kicked up.
When I finally walked into Anton’s house, I fleetingly felt a guilty conscience flare up. The man, my former employer, was dead. I had no business letting myself into his home. I debated on turning around, locking his house like he never did, and finding my way to the nearest hotel. Or, sleeping in one of the abandoned buildings downtown until morning came. But Anton was nothing if not practical. He always held practicality and guarantees above all else. And if I had a guaranteed bed in his home, then what the hell was the point of locking his door and sleeping in an alleyway for the night?
Anton would have welcomed me with open arms and a gentle word, so all I could hope was that his ghost would do the same.
Closing the door behind me, I dropped my bag in the foyer. I was exhausted and upset. I just wanted to sleep, and I didn’t have the energy to take that bag anywhere else. I’d deal with it in the morning. Safely inside, I locked the door behind me and went to the back door, locking it as well.
Then I walked into the room Anton had offered me the last time Andy and I had fought.
I didn’t bother with the lights. All I wanted to do was sleep. I kicked off the flip flops that had worn blisters onto the tops of my feet, and peeled the sweaty shirt off my back. I dropped my panties, tossing them into the trash can. Those were panties Andy had gotten me once. They were gross. Unwashable. Irretrievable. I let the cool air of the house cascade over my naked body before I suddenly felt awkward.
Standing naked in Anton’s house.
Padding back out to my duffel bag, I dragged it into a corner. I rifled through for a clean pair of underwear, then slipped them on. I wondered if Anton’s bills were still coming in. I could use his washer and dryer to wash my clothes, then foot the bill for a month. At least until the last ones came in. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to pay his bills when they were in his name, but I’d find a way. Now content, I sighed and slipped back into the bedroom, Pulling the covers up, the mattress was calling my name. I could feel the comfort and warmth of the bed even before I laid down.
“Holy shit!”
The second I laid down in the bed, I felt another body next to mine. And for a split second while I shrieked my head off, I thought it could’ve been Anton’s. Even though I knew that was irrational and that it couldn’t be him, the thought crossed my mind.
Until the warm body moved.
“Oh my gosh! Stop! No!”
An arm wrapped around my waist and quickly pinned me to the bed. My legs flailed, but another pair much stronger than mine got them to stop. My wrists were encompassed by one very large hand, and I was suddenly staring into the eyes of a complete stranger.
Bright, striking blue eyes.
“Help! Somebody hel—!”
Screaming for help proved useless as his other hand quickly clamped over my mouth. I was wearing nothing but underwear, so I knew how this was going to go down. Who the hell was this person and why was he in Anton’s house? I wiggled and squirmed, trying to free myself. But the hold on my body only got stronger. My eyes widened as he shushed me, then slowly inched his hand away from my face.
I opened my mouth to scream again, but he quickly covered it back up.
“Stop it,” he said.
His voice was rugged and my heart was pounding. I whimpered against his hand and he removed it again before releasing my wrists. I rose up to try and get out of the bed, but he grabbed me again, pinning me back down to the bed as I tried to kick my legs. His eyes grew stern and angry, and every time I tried to move, his grip only tightened.
“What the hell do you want?” I asked.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“What are you doing breaking into my house?”
“Your house? This is Anton Volk’s house,” I said. “And by the way you’re holding me, I’d say he would probably disapprove of you being here. Now get the fuck off me.”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing crawling into my bed.”
“Your bed?” I asked.
“Yes, my bed. My room. My house. So, I’ll ask you again before I call the police. What are you doing in this house?”
