Page 10 of Affliction
I hear his footsteps come up the stairs then turn into our bedroom across the hall. When he doesn’t see me he lets out a dark laugh. He knows I’m hiding in here, I have nowhere else to go. If I did, he would find me—he will always find me.
“It’s cute how you think you can hide from me, Butterfly.”
I cringe at the nickname he gave me when we first met—when I was fourteen. What I once found endearing, because butterflies are beautiful and unique, I now despise. Butterflies wings are paper thin, easily demolished, leaving them helpless. I’m not any of those things, at least that’s what I tell myself.
The doorknob to the room jiggles as he attempts to open it, another sinister laugh leaves his throat. It’s low, rumbling deep in his chest similar to the grumble of an alligator or some other sort of monster out to devour me.
“Open the door Lizzy, I know you’re in there. This never works out for you, haven’t you learned that already?” He says mockingly, almost singing it. But I don't make a move for the door. My breathing becomes staggered and my heart is in my throat as he continues to try the handle. Just when I need my fight or flight to kick in, it refuses, leaving me in this terrified heap in the bed.
BANG!Ijump and cover my mouth, swallowing down the scream as he slams what I assume is his fist against the door, over and over again.
“I just want to talk, Butterfly. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” He growls, the impatience in his voice rattling the door. “I know you’re awake.”
SLAM!I squeeze my eyes shut as tears begin to seep out of the corners of my eyes and drip down my face. Within seconds following another loud crash, the door flies open. I can't help the shriek that leaves my lips when the door slams against the wall. Preston storms to the side of the bed, grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks me out of it.
My feet struggle to grab purchase on the hardwood floor beneath me, but that’s quickly resolved when he abruptly drops me. Landing hard on my side, the air is knocked out of my lungs, but there’s no time to fight for another when he’s coming for me. I roll to my stomach and try to crawl as far enough away from him as I can. I need to run, but it’s no use. He grabs me by the leg and flips me onto my back, halting my attempt at escaping.
Preston crouches down to look at me, a smirk plays on his smug face—it’s revolting. He tips his head to the side, cold blue eyes as dead as I may end up if I don’t get the hell out of here, stare at me. Judging, disapproving, and filled with disgust.
“Now tell me Lizzy, why are you hiding? I only want to talk. To find out why I had to come home to a trashed house and a meal that isn't worth feeding to a stray dog.”
I don’t respond, instead I look away from his stare and focus on a ball of lint under the bed. Wishing I were that insignificant dust bunny, something he wouldn’t think twice about ignoring. No, I’m his—his—and he makes that known by force. My refusal to respond only makes him angrier. Preston harshly grabs at my face, contorting my neck and head till I am forced tolook at him. A bone chilling chuckle breaks free of his chest, sending a riot of goosebumps across my skin as he tilts his head further to the side.
“Now, let’s go downstairs and get this house in order.”
“Preston, the house is spotless. I cleaned all day today.” I murmur, because I know what’s coming. His violence.
“That’s not what I saw. Now come on and get up.” He pats the side of my face twice, hard but not quite a slap. A warning in its own nature.
Standing to his full height, leaving me in a heap on the floor, he steps over me and saunters for the door. With distance between us, I sit up but don’t anticipate the pain that shoots through my side making me wince. Lifting my shirt, needing to see what could be causing the ache, I find a bruise already forming along my ribs from how I fell a moment ago. Reaching a shaky hand to the marred skin, I hiss in a breath as my fingers make contact. The sharp inhale alone was painful, but the bruised skin stings when I touch it, adding another layer of pain that’ll I’m sure to carry around for the next few days at least.
“Oh Butterfly, so sad.” He says uncaringly. “Now come on let’s go, I’ll help you.”
I know better. He won’t be helping, and I will not be sleeping tonight…again.
My head lolls forward and I wake with a jump. Taking in my surroundings, I see I’m in my room. In Oregon. Alone and safe. After a few minutes, I finally gathered my bearings. I’m still using my bed as cover with the Ruger in my hands. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I see it’s now nine in the morning and let out a groan.
Wellfuck. Not again.
Getting up, I pull back the slide to make sure the bullet is still in place. Seeing that it is I let out a sigh. Rolling my eyes I carefully put the slide back in place and click the safety back on, then put the weapon back into my nightstand and make my way to the bathroom. In front of the vanity, I place my hands against the sink and look at myself in the mirror. My hair is in a messy bun which is now hanging off the side of my head, making me look like I've been sent through the wringer. Then there are my eyes, haunted, and sunken with dark circles staining the soft tissue under them. I look like hell. Feel like hell.
“He’s dead. It was just a dream.” I attempt to convince myself.
Not just a dream, a memory.
I shower, get dressed, and then shuffle my way into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Leaning with my back against the counter I reach up to rub my neck and roll my head side to side, trying to massage away the ache from sleeping sitting upright. Or maybe it’s my body reliving the trauma of how Preston wrenched me around, either way, the muscles are tight and bothersome. Twisting to my right, I reach into the cabinet above the sink to grab a bottle of painkillers, shake three into my hand, then set the container on the counter. Like music to my ears, the coffee machine finishes up, the last few audible drips of brew dropping into the carafe and puts out the heavenly-fresh scent. It permeates the air and wakes my senses. My favorite coffee mug is sitting to the side, on a carefully folded napkin and a designated stirring spoon, but I’m still missing the creamer. Grabbing it from the fridge, I pour some into the cup then greedily take the medicine and chase it with a gulp. It burns my taste buds in the process but I groan through it, as the godly nectar finally puts me in a better state of mind.
Cup in hand, I make my way to the couch and pull out my phone which I shoved in my back pocket once I was dressed. I check the camera feeds again from last night neurotically. Finally, I believe I spot the time the figurein the trees showed up, but it’s so far from the camera I can't tell if it's what I saw or an animal passing through. Aggravated, I let out a loud sigh, nearly deflating.
It had to have been a deer or something.
Placing my coffee and phone on the end table, I adjust myself on the couch and find a comfortable position. I have work tonight but not until nine, a nap is in order if I want to make it through my shift. Like the professional avoider I am, I put the images from last night's dreams out of my mind again and close my eyes. Allowing my body to relax and sink into the plush cushions. A far cry from sleeping propped against my bed like it would ever save me.
Chapter seven
Hours later, I’m feelingrested and much better when I pull into Doc’s parking lot for my shift, which is packed. Weaving through the throng of cars I curse under my breath when I notice my usual spot under the streetlamp is taken. Driving around the back instead, I pull up along the side of the building, deciding to take a spot closest to the door. Making a mental note to move it as soon as I can, I shift the car out of drive and into park. Light rain patters on the windshield of my jeep and I prepare to step out into the cool, damp air. Tugging the hood of my rain jacket over my head, I exit the car and jog to the front door.
“Hey girl!” Ashlynn shouts in greeting over the deep thump of the music. She gives me a huge smile as she pours a drink for one of the customers and when I round the back of the bar she wraps me in a hug.
