“What, baby?” he asks as he pushes my legs apart wider. I try to pull them closed, but his hips butt against mine. I was just looking to have a little fun.
His hands shove my skirt up and my arms are too heavy to push him away.
I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was reckless. It was my fault. I don’t know if he heard me whispering no. It makes me feel a little better to think he didn’t, and I don’t know if that’s more fucked up than the alternative.
My breathing is ragged as I shove the memory out of my mind and let go of the Brillo pad. There are red marks on my palm from where the pad has dug into my soft flesh, but I hardly notice it, a chill snaking down my spine. I stopped going to parties, but the reliance on drugs and alcohol didn’t end. And one mistake led to another that I’ll never forgive myself for. Even now, I still ache in my lower abdomen at the memory of waking up on a bloody mattress months later, my nightgown soaked with dark red blood. I didn’t know I'd been pregnant until I had miscarried. More mistakes. More blame. More guilt.
That was enough to send me spiraling down into darkness; I just wanted to end it all. I had a bottle in my hand as my legs hung over the bridge. I’d drink the pain away and fall in. I was so done with making mistakes. But Danny saw me. He saved me.
And now… he’s discarding me like none of that meant anything.
“Are you okay, dear?” a familiar voice asks, breaking me out of my dark trance. I whip my head around to see Clara, the head cook of the shelter, staring at me with concern. She’s a large woman in her early fifties, with greying hair that’s always arranged up high on her head in a loose bun. Her outfit, an oversized blue dress with a white apron, only makes her appear more matronly. She has a large oval-shaped face, lined with gentle wrinkles, and her hair contains striking streaks of grey that give her a distinguished look. I flash her a modest smile I hope she thinks is real. I try my best to keep my troubles hidden whenever I’m here, or anywhere really. I don’t like to spread negativity. Give your pain to me. Only me. Danny’s words from the night he first showed me the cane come back to me. I turn my back to her and grab the dish towel, drying my hands before turning back to face her. “I’m fine. Why, what’s up?”
Clara nods at the dishes. “You seemed a bit distracted. You sure you’re alright?”
I huff out a humorless chuckle. “Oh no, I just zoned out.”
Clara places her hands on her wide hips, giving me a knowing look. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I flash her another smile, this one easier. “I’m positive.”
For a moment, Clara looks uncertain as if she wants to press the issue, but then says, “Okay, I’m here for you if you ever need someone to talk to, okay honey?”
Warmth spreads through my chest and it’s hard not to let the emotions I'm feeling play across my face. It touches me that Clara cares at all about what I might be going through. But then again, she wouldn’t be working at a pantry that fed the homeless if she didn’t possess so much empathy. There are so many people here who need help. And not because they were careless and reckless and hurting the people around them. They didn’t choose it.
“Okay,” I tell her with gratitude, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Make sure that you do.” Clara gives me a heartfelt smile before going off back to her chores.
I spend the next half hour finishing cleaning up the last of the dishes and then head out behind the building with a bag of trash in my hand. It’s full to the brim and heavy. I have to lift it with all my weight to make sure it doesn’t drag on the asphalt and tear open.
I step out into the back alley, my skin pricking from the cool air sweeping through the area, goosebumps rising up on my flesh. A ray of moonlight shines down through the crack between the buildings, illuminating the walkway. I need to clean up back here; pieces of newspaper and some rotten food are strewn about, and the smell from the nearby dumpsters assaults my nose as I make my way down the small steps onto the cold concrete path. My car is parked around the side of the building, and it’s just a short walk through the alley to reach it. But I need to dump the trash bag first.
I’m in the process of closing it when suddenly, rough and firm hands grab me from behind, clamping down on my mouth to stifle my cry.
My heart pounds as panic overtakes me, and I struggle against my captor, but whoever it is is too strong. Subduing my attempts to escape, I hear a grunt as I’m picked up off my feet and pressed up against the stone wall, feeling a rock hard body press into me from behind.
“Be a good girl,” a familiar voice growls into my ear.
“Danny,” I gasp with surprise, my heart hammering wildly as a hundred different dreadful thoughts run through my mind. I don’t understand what’s going on. “What are you doing here?” I cry.
Danny doesn’t immediately respond, keeping me pressed up against the wall for several more moments, his breath hot on my neck. All the while, fear runs through me. He’s never done anything like this before, and I can smell whiskey on his breath. He’s taking joy out of keeping me guessing on his intentions while increasing the pressure on my back.
“Danny, please,” I whimper as the pain grows, my eyes darting to the back entrance of the shelter. “Sir, please.” I don’t know what’s going on. This isn’t him.
Finally, he lets me go.
I gasp as I come free, turning around to face him, my chest heaving from my ragged breaths.
Danny’s scowling at me, his hazel eyes blazing with anger. He looks out of place in this trashy alley with his expensive dress pants and shirt, his hair slicked to the side. I can even smell his vintage cologne over the filthy aroma of garbage.
“I’ve come to remind you how ungrateful you are,” he growls. His words sting with a pain so raw, I can hardly stand up straight.
“Danny-” I pause and swallow the lump growing in my throat. I’m grateful. I am. I truly am.
“Don’t you remember?” he asks me, gesturing around the grimy alley. “This is the same fucking alleyway I found you in. Before you went to the bridge. You were poor, broke, hungry and homeless. And I was the only one who was stupid enough to have pity for you.”
I shake my head, unable to understand how differently Danny’s treating me. He’s never been this cruel and hateful with me before. “Danny, please. It’s not like that.” My eyes dart from him to the door. There's a single light shining above it, and everything in me is pleading with me to run. But it’s Danny. He saved me. He won’t hurt me. “Why are you so angry with-”
“Did you once try to call me since taking your collar?” he demands, cutting me off. “Did you once try to beg me to take you back?”
“But you said I was going up for auction-” I try to reason with him. I don’t know what to do. I’m so lost.
“I fed you, you ungrateful bitch!” Danny snarls, spittle flying from his mouth. “Helped you when no one else would. And look at you, ready to run from me the first chance you get.”
I gape at him with shock.
“I saved you!” He continues his rant. “You were nothing but a drunk degenerate when I found you. And if it weren’t for me, you’d be fucking dead!” His words cut through me, because they’re true.