Pulled(46)
Author: A.L. Jackson

I felt movement beside me as a stool slid back, its legs creaking against the floor. I continued to stare into my drink. Words were exchanged, but I was unable to care enough to listen. A shoulder nudged me, partially pulling me from my daze.

“Having a bad night?”

I looked up to see a man grinning from the seat beside me. He was older than I was by probably twenty years. His black hair was meticulously combed against his head, his cold, almost black eyes curious as they took in my expression. I grimaced, giving him no response before turning away.

“You’re awfully pretty to be sitting here all alone.” I cringed. I knew I was—pretty. Daniel used to tell me all the time, and it was sweet, and it had made me feel good. But something about the way this guy said it made me feel dirty.

“What are you drinking there?”

Couldn’t he see I didn’t want to talk to anyone?

“Um, a soda.”

He chuckled beside me before calling to the bartender. “Can you bring us another of these?” He lifted his glass in the air, the ice clinking against the sides. The woman set the short glass down in front me, the dark liquid suddenly very appealing. I’d never drank liquor before, but I figured this was a really good time to start. I brought the glass to my lips, tipping it into my mouth and taking in more than anticipated. I choked against the terrible taste, my gag reflex kicking in as I tried to swallow.

I finally forced it down, chasing it with some of my soda.

Again, I heard the chuckle beside me. He was entertained.

I refused to acknowledge him as I brought the glass to my lips again, this time carefully, and I sipped a small amount. It tasted awful, but I found comfort in the way it warmed my body. I knew it was wrong to drink alcohol to feel better. I just couldn’t make myself care. I finished the first glass before he handed me another.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against my ear.

My skin prickled against his breath on my face, warning me, telling me something wasn’t right, but the mixture of alcohol and despair clouded my judgment.

I glanced at him. His left elbow was propped on the bar, and his head rested in his hand as he watched me. His face was hard and curious.

“So where are you headed?” He squinted as he waited for my answer, bringing his glass to his lips once again.

I shrugged. I had nowhere to go.

He laughed under his breath as he took my chin and drew me closer to him. As he looked over my face, it felt as though he was inspecting me.

“You have nowhere to go?” he asked, his tone harsh, doubtful. I shook my head. He snorted through his nose, his chest shaking, no sound coming from his mouth.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” It was only a whisper.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked me over again. He stood and put out his hand. “Come.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. I don’t know why, but I obeyed. I felt nauseous as I touched him, my body repulsed by his.

Yet I followed him out of the airport and into a cab, knowing I was giving away the only part of me I had left.

But the alcohol in my system argued I had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. It insisted I couldn’t go back to my mother. She would laugh in my face and tell me she’d been right all along. Daniel didn’t want me. So I convinced myself I had no other choice. I sat in the back of the cab as he ran his fingers up and down my arm, the touch eliciting chills, revulsion crawling through my veins.

“Are you excited?”

My dead heart quickened at his words, and I felt scared and ashamed. Never in a million years would I have dreamt I’d ever give myself away like this.

The trip to the nearest hotel was short. In silence, I followed as he led me into the hotel, and I let the numbness take over while he arranged for a room and led me to the elevator.

I tried not to feel as he explored my body, declaring it as his. His hands were rough and hard, never gentle. I’d never been touched this way. Daniel had always worshipped, adored, but this was something I didn’t understand. It made me ill. I lay frozen under him as I tried to seek comfort in my mind, tried to retreat to another time and place, but I couldn’t block him out completely. Tears streamed down my face, and I prayed for it to end.

When he finally rolled away from me, I felt the vomit fill my mouth. I was weeping before I made it to the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I spilled the contents of my stomach into the toilet. The alcohol burned as it made its second pass through my throat. I curled into a ball on the cold floor, my leg hurting worse than it ever had. I welcomed the pain. I deserved the punishment for what I’d done.

My soul called out for Daniel, begging him to comfort me, to take it all away. I prayed he’d know, no matter what I’d done or what I subjected myself to, that he would always be my only love.

I braced myself on the toilet and pulled myself up, reaching for a towel to clean my face, hoping it would wipe away some of the shame. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my dead eyes haunting me. I allowed myself to shed one last tear for the girl I once knew before accepting what I’d now become. I braced myself and stepped into the room, clinging to the towel wrapped under my arms, and stared at the stranger as he aimlessly flipped through channels. He glanced at me, his attention still on the TV

as he said, “You’ll do.”

I flew back to Dallas the next day. Nicholas Borelli sat next to me in the first class section, his posture relaxed as he read the paper.

He had just finished giving me, well, instructions.

He told me of the job he was essentially employing me to do. That was the deal. I would play the happy little wife and attend to all of his needs. In return, he would give me an escape. I could leave everything behind and not have the constant reminder of the life I once had.

Of course, I knew I’d always carry Daniel with me.

I could never escape him. I felt it as Nicholas and I touched down in Dallas. I felt it when we went to city hall and signed papers that made us husband and wife. I felt it when we went to Mom’s and I sat and I lied and told her I’d fallen in love. The words were so foul, my mouth bled. I felt it as I tore through my room, trying to rid myself of every reminder of Daniel and Eva I could find. And I felt it three days later when I boarded the plane to serve my sentence in Hell.

“You didn’t want me!” I cried over and over.

Daniel’s rejection was fresh as the scars ripped open.

I wanted him so badly. I’d almost given in and become that person I refused to be. I didn’t know how I had ripped myself from his arms. I had to be strong. I had to be strong. And the only way to do that was to stay away from Daniel Montgomery.