Sweet Little Nothing

“Oh my God!” Stella cries. “It’s a freaking pocket. You might graze a little ass cheek. It won’t kill you.”

“It fuckin’ might,” he grumbles before sliding his hand into her pocket.

A wave of dizziness rushes me, and I sway in Stella’s arms.

“Whoa! You okay?”

I nod. Or at least I think I nod. “Just need to... bed.”

“Are you sure she isn’t on something?”

“Positive,” Stella growls, helping me over the threshold and into the lobby. “Now either call the elevator or go home. We don’t need your negativity.”

“No, just my ride.” He’s all attitude as he swaggers ahead of us toward the elevator. He curls his hand into a fist and pops the side of it against the up arrow.

Inside, he repeats the gesture, hitting the button for the third floor. The contents of my stomach rush up toward my throat as the cables begin pulling us higher. I gag a little as I slap my free hand over my mouth.

“Swear to God, if she pukes on me…”

“Stop being an asshole, Samson!” Stella scolds, already sounding like the teacher she’s studying to become.

I force myself to swallow. “I’m fine.”

In our suite, Stella helps me into my bed with a promise to check on me in five minutes. I wave her away, too exhausted to care about anything other than my head hitting the pillow.

Only, when I close my eyes, he’s there, waiting and ready to torture me some more.

“You deserve every single thing coming your way,” his voice taunts, wrapping around my body like a vise, squeezing and squeezing, tighter and tighter, until all of the air is expelled from my lungs.

I shoot upright, a scream lodged in my throat. “Why is this happening?” I wonder aloud. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Muffled voices filter into my room from the crack under the door. After a few minutes, I hear a door open and close, before the sound of the lock turning reaches me.

Followed by, “Emmy, can I come in?”

I groan out my permission for her to enter.

“Are you okay?” Stella asks, crossing the small space to my bed. She perches on the edge of it and reaches down, smoothing my sweaty hair away from my face.

“I-I don’t know.”

“What happened? You literally went from fine to on the floor in the span of a song.”

“St-Sterling.”

A fire lights in her blue eyes, making her look lethal. “What did he do? Do I need to kill him? Swear to God, I know how to get rid of a body, babe.”

“Um...”

“Just say the word. No one will ever find his sorry, no-good, rotten ass.”

“No,” I barely manage to croak the word as I shake my head. “No.”

“What did he do to you?”

I heave out a sad sigh. “Nothing more than I allowed.”

The admission nearly breaks me. It’s a reminder of how weak I am. How weak I’ve always been. I’ve been on this earth for eighteen years and spent a decade of them being abused at the hands of my stepbrother.

I quietly took his mistreatment, over and over, and the few times I tried to speak up, my pleas were cast aside as the whining of a bratty child.

I should have pushed harder. Tried harder.

But I didn’t. I let him victimize me. Over and over and over again. When he finally took it too far and I went to the authorities, I was all but laughed right out of town.

What would a fine young man like him want with a child like you?

Nice girls don’t tell lies. We thought you were a nice girl, Emmalyn. Don’t you want to be nice?

He’s got his whole life ahead of him, Emmalyn. Surely you don’t want to leave a dark mark on his future.

And yet, no one cares about the one he left on me. On my heart... my soul.

“No! Nope.” Stella sounds fierce, protective. “That doesn’t fly with me. He did something to you and I want—no, I need to know.”

“Just mind games.”

Stella stands from the bed. “What drawer are your jammies in?”

“Second from the top.”

She grabs a pair of flannel pants and a tank top and passes them both to me. “Get changed. I’ll be right back.”

I strip out of my wet party clothes but don’t put on my pajamas. I need a shower.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” Stella asks as I step out of my room in only my undergarments.

“Just need a shower.”

“Okay. Can I... can I sit in the bathroom while you do it? To make sure you’re okay?”

I nod, secretly grateful to not be alone.

We trek into the small bathroom, and I step into the tub and pull the curtain closed. I toss my wet bra and panties out and turn on the water, cranking the temperature to scalding.

Stella chatters aimlessly as I stand under the hot spray, letting it wash away the scent of cheap beer, wishing it could wash away the memory of his touch.