Page 4 of Affliction
“Now how about that food Tanya. I’m starving.” Uncle Nick says as he picks me up and puts me on his shoulders. I giggle and we walk to the dining room to eat.
The song changes and I snap back to the present. I reach up and touch my chest and my heart aches, feeling the loss of that necklace–of my family. A sigh leaves my lips and I look around to see that I’ve finished cleaning and it’s time to go.
After gathering my purse and turning off the lights, I head to the exit. With one last glance around the bar, I close and lock thedoor. I’m parked just across the gravel parking lot, maybe one hundred feet from the door. I always get nervous being out here alone at night. The parking lot has one street light, and I make it a habit to park right under it, for obvious reasons.
There have been a few nights where some drunk asshole was standing outside long after the last call. Sometimes they were just out there waiting for a ride. I've come out a couple of times to someone sleeping on the bench that sits just outside the door and I'd call them an Uber. A couple of weeks ago one of the guys that had been hitting on me during my shift, waited for me to come out and tried to follow me to my car. He tried to grab my arm when I walked away from him, which earned him a right hook and a kick in the balls. Now that I’m thinking about it, he hasn't come back since that night. I can defend myself. It isn't the people that make me uneasy, it’s the dark and the eerie silence that this time of night provides.
I’m almost to the car when I hear a branch snap in the woods that run along the side of the bar. My head snaps up, eyes zeroing in on the direction of the noise. It’s quiet again and I don’t see anything. Quickening my pace I unlock my door and hurry inside, locking it as soon as I climb in. I quickly start the car and turn on my high beams, shining them at the tree line. Still not seeing anything I release a harsh breath, but it does little to calm my nerves.
Ever since escaping my hell, I’ve felt more free than ever. I am stronger, I stick up for myself, and don’t take shit from anyone. But I still find myself looking over my shoulder sometimes.
He’s dead. He’s not coming back. You made sure. Just breathe.
Chalking the sound up to an animal, or my brain playing tricks on me due to the exhaustion, I put the car in drive and head home. Tonight was long and I just want to take a shower and go to sleep. I have tomorrow off and I desperately need it.
Twenty minutes later I pull into my driveway and shut the car off. I let out a sigh and rest my head against the seat for a minute.I am so tired I could sleep right here. I think to myself before gathering my things and making my way to the front door.
Once inside, I lock the door. The stove light illuminates the kitchen, giving me just enough light to see. I kept all the furniture Hazel had put in here the day I arrived and have added just a few little things to make it feel more like me. Turning on the light switch in the living room, I drop my things and make my way through the house, past the half bath and the still empty second bedroom, into my room. Flopping down on the queen sized bed I let out a huff. I’m exhausted but I know I won’t be able to sleep right away. I miss having a normal sleep schedule; the bar definitely makes that impossible, but the money I earn makes it hard for me to want to try to find a normal nine to five.
There was nothing normal about your sleep schedule. My subconscious taunts and I roll my eyes.
Pushing down the memory threatening to take over, I stand up and go over to the long dresser against the opposite wall and pull out something to sleep in, then place them on the dresser and pad my way over to the en-suite bathroom. Turning on the shower I wait for it to get to the right temperature, scorching freakin’ hot. I climb in and begin to wash myself, harder than needed, but scrubbing my skin to the point of being raw is the only thing that makes me feel like I’m truly clean. Stepping under the shower head, the suds and filth slide off of me and down the drain.
Even after two years, I still feel his hands on me. What’s the saying? It takes seven years to grow new skin cells? Meaning, five more years before it’ll be like that piece of shit never even touched me. Hopefully, I’ve sped up the process by my incessant need to scrub the hell out of myself. This’s the only way I feel like none of it ever happened, even if only for a minute.
Stepping out onto the grey fluffy bath rug I wiggle my toes, feeling the soft fibers soak up the water on my feet. I start drying my hair with the towel when the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My hands stop working the towel and I freeze. It feels like I’m being watched. This is the first time since that night this intense feeling of unease has come over me.
What the fuck?
My breaths become shallow as I glance around the bathroom and into the bedroom. I don’t see anything, so I take a cautious step out. Surely, I’m just tired. Standing firm in place for another minute, I strain my ears for anything out of place.
Tiptoeing across the threshold into the bedroom, I grab my phone off the nightstand and pull up the app for my security cameras. The house is surrounded with them. Two were installed prior to me moving in, and I asked Hazel for the name of the company that installed them. I called and had six more put up.
Pulling up the feed for every single camera, the recordings show nothing. Confused, I plug the phone in and place it back on the nightstand. I’m only a little relieved there was nothing there, but that feeling of unease isn’t dissipating.
“I really need to go to bed, it's nothing.” I announce to no one as I drag my hands down my face. I go to the dresser and put on my sleep clothes then cautiously make my way out of the bedroom. My long wet hair hangs over my right shoulder, the water from the soaked strands seeping into my t-shirt.
Silently, I step out of the room and into the other empty bedroom, nothing. I cross the hall, into the bathroom and hold my breath, stepping silently. Reaching the shower curtain I slam my fist into it then tear it open. When I see nothing, I go back out into the open kitchen and dining area and sweep my way through–one room at a time.
After I’ve gone through the house making sure all the windows and doors are locked and I’m all alone, I shuffle my way back to the bedroom. This has become another nightly ritual since being on my own.Check, check again, then check one more time. I can’t seem to break the habit. A habit I seemed to develop after moving here. A habit that helps my brain understand that I’m finally safe.
I climb into bed and pull the blanket up to my chin. Once I make myself comfortable, I let out a long sigh.
Calm down. Breathe. You just need sleep…until noon; this week has clearly kicked my ass.
My heavy lids shut and I quickly fade into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Chapter three
I hate the barscene. It’s just an excuse to go out, spend a shit ton of money, and get far too drunk to get yourself home in one piece. They’re always too crowded, too loud, and they reek of stale beer and desperation. Where lonely, single, and married men come hoping to bring someone forgettable to bed. Nothing about this is appealing to me but when Karson called saying he needed to talk to me, I told him to pick the place.
That’s the last fucking time I let him choose a meeting spot.
I’ve never been to Doc’s before tonight; it’s a hole in the wall in the middle of fucking nowhere. There’s a couple pool tables in the center of the open area, dart boards, a jukebox, and a few tables scattered throughout. The bar is decent sized, enough to sit about 15 people.DYWTYLMby Sleep Token plays over the speakers as Karson leans over the table.
“Seriously, Mav, we have to get a tighter grip on these new kids. They’re gonna fuck around one day and get us all in some deep shit. I’m not going to prison because some limp dick tool bag wants to run his mouth to look like he’s hot shit.” He rants as he shoves another bite of his chicken parm in his mouth before taking a swig of his beer to wash it down.
“We’ll handle it.” I respond with a blank expression, then lift my glass of bourbon to my lips. I’m just as fed the fuck up with this new little shit we brought under our wing a few months ago, but unlike Karson I manage to keep my feelings about the situation in check.
