Page 23

My dirty little secret.

Without speaking, Dad grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the office. We received a few stares from employees as I was dragged down the hall, through the break room, and into the back door of the restaurant.

The kitchen was bustling with activity. Chefs slaved over stoves and pans in an attempt to cater to the dinner crowd. A few waitresses and waiters lurked around, shouting directions at the cooks and grabbing plates. Even an earthquake couldn’t stop the resort from running.

I spotted a familiar mound of tousled blond hair.

Please no. Not him.

I turned my head away, telling myself that if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. I channeled the stories I read when I was younger. The ones where the kid hid herself under her blankets to ward off the monsters (as if a fluffy blanket could repel a monster. Seriously. Sleep with a knife like a normal person).

The kitchen quieted down, the chatter and strident voices diminishing almost immediately.

Keep talking. Nothing to see here. Just a poor, bruised girl about to receive her punishment. Completely normal.

I honestly couldn’t tell you if I had spoken that thought aloud. I’m sure the pitying expressions would’ve stayed the same no matter what I said.

D.O.D. walked briskly over to an iron-top stove and flicked the dials to the highest settings. Buttlicker squeezed my arm, propelling me towards my father, while his free hand groped my bottom.

“What the hell, you pervert!” Asher yelled, trying to make his way to me, but he was intercepted by two cooks. Asher was young and angry, but he was no match for the two chefs that looked as if they ate more food than they made.

They knew what was going to happen. Hell, Chef Larry and I were old friends.

My dad merely stared at me without saying a word. I knew what he wanted.

Bracing my body, D.O.D. placed my arms on the stove. The pain was immediate. Blistering. My skin felt as if it was splintering from my body, shattering like cracked glass. I screamed in agony, instinct driving me to fight to remove myself from the source of the pain. D.O.D. held my body tightly, refusing to allow me to nudge an inch. I was trapped.

“Let her go! Stop! Stop it!” Asher screamed, thrusting against the men that held him. More employees had joined the fray.

Through my haze of pain, I felt something that resembled relief. Never, in all my years of existence, had anyone ever fought for me before. I always faced every trial alone. Turning my head, I met Asher’s tear-filled eyes and gave him a shaky smile. This stranger, this shy, sweet boy, was in my corner when everybody else had abandoned me.

His was the last face I saw before the world faded into darkness.

* * *

I wokeup to someone sobbing.

For a moment, I thought that the sound was coming from me. I didn’t think I was crying, but who the hell knew anymore. Mixed with the whole sobbing symphony, I heard a steady beeping. Confused, I twisted in the bed, and the beeping noise began to sound at intermittent intervals.

Huh. A heart-monitor.

The sound immediately began to slow itself once I came to that conclusion. Voices, though stunted by what was probably a door, floated to me.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” The voice sounded familiar, and it took me a second to place where I had heard it before. Ronan, the unicorn tattooed, green-haired,leprechaun.

What was he doing here?

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” a choked voice added. I didn’t even need to think to know who this voice belonged to. Calax. He sounded ragged, as if...as if he had been the one I heard crying.

I snorted at the ridiculousness of that thought. If he was crying, then it was probably because I survived. The bastard seemed to hate me more than my own parents did.

“You didn’t see it,” Asher said. I had to strain to hear his quiet voice. “The entire staff knew what was going to happen. They fucking knew, and they did nothing to stop it. They told me that shit like this happens all the time. Not a week goes by when she isn’t covered in bruises or casts. Hell, they even told me her parents often send sleazy fuckers to her room at night...” His voice broke off in anguish, and my heart fluttered at his obvious distress at my situation. Sure, I knew that my parents’ treatment of me wasn’t normal, but to hear someone else vocalize it, to condemn the people who repeatedly put me through hell, almost made me smile, like the twisted fucker they’d created. I never had anyone care about me or advocate on my behalf before. The feeling was strange but not entirely unpleasant.

An explosion of noise met Asher’s confession. Something shattered, and I could only hope it was something expensive.Maybe a nice old vase.

“You were with her for years!” Ryder exploded at someone - I’m assuming Calax because he’s the only one I knew before yesterday. “How could you not have known?”

Ryder was rewarded with a strangled sound.