And he does just that – one solid punch to Jeanette’s stomach and she’s on her knees. Running to her side, I try to run my hand through her hair to give her some comfort. I ignore Marco because anything I throw at him he’ll only enjoy. I look at my father watching us with a bored look on his face.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Why are you treating us like this? I’m your daughter!” I yell, looking into his eyes. Yelling at him like this was not something I ever really did. My father didn’t abuse me when I was growing up; he was just cold and dominant. Everyone was to respect him and his word was law. I remember moments of tenderness, but as I grew up they became more and more fleeting. I never would’ve thought it would come to this. Even when I have flashes of the night I was beaten, it’s still hard for me to believe it was something he orchestrated.
“I’m treating you like this, daughter,” he spits the word like it tastes bitter in his mouth, “because you chose your side, and you chose wrong. You’re a lesson. An example.” He strides towards me until he’s right in my face. It takes everything in me not to divert my eyes from him. I’m not the little bird he caged away, and I want him to know that. He doesn’t control me anymore.
“And what have we learned from this lesson? We’ve learned that if you cross me I will destroy you, family or not.”
All I can do is shake my head at that. What can I really say? But he’s wrong. He’s not my family anymore. I have Carter, Jeanette, and this baby growing inside me. I need to remember that. I can’t provoke him or do anything that could get me hurt. This isn’t about me and my pride right now. It’s about surviving until I can get us free.
I drop my gaze from him and my shoulders slump. I want him to think I’m defeated. Maybe the less we fight them, they more they’ll let their guard down. I need to find out where Justin and my mom are and then make a move.
Grabbing my chin, he makes me look back at him. My father isn’t tall like Carter. I don’t have to strain to look at him.
“You look nothing like your mother. It’s such a shame. I could’ve gotten a good price for you if you had.”
I don’t know what that means. Does he plan to sell me?
“Speaking of whom, she’s right inside. Get your friend and come.”
Helping Jeanette back to her feet, I pull her close.
“Calm down and think. Your temper isn’t going to help right now. It’s just going to get us hurt,” I whisper.
“Fine. But if they come at you, Lays, I have to draw their attention. We both know you can’t fight them right now,” she whispers back and looks pointedly down at my belly.
I grab her hand and squeeze as I follow my father through the door. Luckily Marco doesn’t try to touch us again.
When we enter the next room it’s completely different from the massive garage. It smells of smoke, musk and sex. The ceilings are at least 30-feet high and the glass windows are too high for anyone to access – no way can we get out that way. There’s a bar to the left where three men are sitting, drinking and openly staring at us. In the center of the room are multiple couches adorned with barely dressed – and some entirely undressed – women. They look strung out. The place looks like it was thrown together and it probably was, if he came to Reno to get me and doesn’t plan stay. My father always likes things to look nice and grand, and this place looks like a hole in the wall.
One of the women crawls from the couch and stumbles towards us. It takes me a minute to realize who it is but as she comes closer I see it’s my mother.
“Jesus, Dean had to go get more girls? Aren’t there enough sluts for you to fuck here already?” my mother slurs at my father. She glares at me and Jeanette.
“Didn’t know you liked them chunky. All those years of dieting wasted, I guess. I could have been packing on the pounds if I knew that’s what got you hard,” she rasps, getting in my father’s face.
Clearly she has no idea who I am. He pushes her back and she stumbles but manages somehow to keep her footing and not fall on her ass.
She looks nothing like the woman I remember. She might have been just as cold as my father, but she always looked beautiful. She was unceasingly at her best – from her hair, to her makeup, to expensive clothes and handbags. Even if she wasn’t going anywhere she would be all done up, but she was always going somewhere – events, parties, concerts, she was always doing something. Things that I could never go to.
My father always said it was because he didn’t want people to know about me, that they would use me against him. My mother said it was because I wasn’t pretty enough. This was often after she had had a drink or two. But today it looks like she’s had more than alcohol. Her eyes look dead, her cheeks sunken. I can tell from her half-naked state she doesn’t have an ounce of fat to spare. Her ribs are poking out.
“Fine! Fuck her for all I care. I like Sam’s cock better anyways,” she smirks at him.
I squeeze Jeanette’s hand tighter as I watch her stumble towards the bar, almost falling on her ass again.
I can’t believe how deluded I was. Or maybe I just lied to myself. I made myself think things had been wonderful before the night I lost everything. They just grew so much worse after that, and what I had before seemed to be more wonderful than it really was in comparison.