Runaways (Orphans 5)

"Crystal says you buried it. Is she telling me the truth? Huh?"

"Yes," I said.

"I better find that tomorrow or there will be hell to pay, Brooke. If you're all lying to me, you're going to be sorrier than you ever were living back at the Lakewood and even sorrier than you would be going to jail. Trust me on that," he threatened. "Did you hear me? Did you?"

"Yes," I said.

My heart began to pound again. I wished I could speak with Crystal and see if she had any plan for tomorrow. How far did she think we could lead him and what would happen when we finally stopped?

I heard him get up and then pause by my bed so I opened my eyes. He was staring down at me in the strangest way. It was as if he was trying to decide something and he was being pulled in different directions.

"So, you ever been with a boy?"

I closed my eyes.

"I guess that's a no," he said. "You're a virgin. I bet you wonder about it every night, huh? I bet you lay awake in that bed of yours and think about what it's like. Maybe you pretend, huh? Huh?"

"Leave me alone, Gordon. We're going to do what you want tomorrow, so leave me alone," I pleaded. His voice was softer, but darker and he was beginning to frighten me even more.

"You have a period like every other girl, don't you? You ever think about having babies?"

The tears were hot and heavy under my eyelids. I kept them closed and tried not to sob.

"I could show you," he said. "I could show you what it's like better than any teenage boy can show you. Just like that," he said snapping his fingers. "It's different with a real man. Experience is important when it comes to things like this."

I didn't move. I didn't open my eyes, but I sensed him drawing closer. I felt my body tighten up. I wished I could turn myself into a ball and roll away. When his fingers touched my hair, I jumped up and pulled the blanket around me with my knees against my chest.

"Stop!" I screamed.

He stood there, gaping at me, his eyes wide.

"If you touch me again," I said, "I'll scream so loud it will bring the manager or people from the other rooms. I swear I will. Then they'll call the police and we won't show you anything tomorrow."

He stood there, wavering a moment, his eyes opening and closing.

"Take it easy," he said. "I'm not that desperate. But you just passed up the best thing that could ever happen to you, girlie."

"That's not true! I have a boyfriend and someday I'll marry him."

He laughed. Anger replaced fear, rage rushing over me, making me feel like I was bathed in blood. If he came toward me again, I vowed, I would scratch out his eyes. He saw something in my face and backed down some more.

"Ahh," he groaned. He wavered, took another drink from his bottle and looked toward the bathroom. "I'll be right out. Don't you even think of going anywhere," he said, pointing that long finger at me as if it were a knife.

The heat receded from my face and I relaxed again. I knew I wouldn't fall asleep tonight. I would be up all night just in case he tried something. Crystal, Crystal, what are we going to do? We should have taken our chances with the police. How can we protect Butterfly? We can't protect ourselves.

He stumbled when he stepped out of the bathroom and then cursed. I didn't look directly at him. He went past my bed and I kept my back to him, but held my breath. The television droned on, the light flashing on the wall above me.

Suddenly, I felt him grab my right arm. I started to scream, but he put his hand over my face and brought his own smelly mouth close to me. My stomach did flip-flops and I almost threw up the burger I had eaten at the sheriff's office.

"I'm not touching you," he growled. "But I ain't taking no chances. I want to get some sleep tonight and I know how sly you girls are. Don't you scream, Brooke," he warned, "or I'll pound this fist right through your face," he threatened, holding his mallet of a hand above me. He released his grip on my mouth and I held my breath. I felt him twist my wrist around and then I saw him tying a small rope around it.

"You ain't going to sneak out on me," he muttered. "This here," he said as he tied his knot, "is a sailor's knot, an eight," he bragged as he turned and wove it around my wrist.

After he was finished, he wrapped it around his own wrist a few times and returned to his bed.

There was just enough slack for me to turn over if I wanted.

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?" I asked him.