Page 18

seventeen

The Shampoo

Whitney

Daisy: Ashnikko

M y body aches in ways I've never experienced due to something good that's happened. When Dustin used to beat my ass, I felt this same way, so each move I make is extremely triggering, but the memories from last night—from having both Cade and Carter inside me—bring a smile to my face and push the fear into the black hole in my mind where everything about Dustin resides.

Deciding to shower and then go for a run for the first time in months, I slip out of bed while the guys are fast asleep, welcoming the steam from the scalding water cascading over my achy body. I reach for my shampoo and freeze, dropping the bottle so it thuds loudly against the shower floor. Looking down at it, I study the bottle carefully, coming to the realization that someone switched out my current shampoo for the same exact kind that I used to use when I was with Dustin.

Leaving him, I literally changed everything in my life so I wouldn't be reminded of him and his beatings all the time—including my shampoo. I shiver as a flashback hits me hard, bringing me to my fucking knees in the shower, hugging my trembling knees to my slick chest, the water still rushing over me but not snapping me out of the nightmare from my past.

Flashback, 3 years ago

After a long day at the hospital, I try to relax in the shower, letting the hot water beat down on my throbbing muscles and melt the overwhelming stress away from my body. But as I hear the front door slam, the walls shaking from the force, my state of relaxation quickly vanishes as panic begins to set in.

It's early. It's too early for Dustin to be home, so I immediately know it can't be a good thing. I try to quickly finish my shower before he bursts through the door in a rage, but I'm too slow. The bathroom door swings open, slamming against the closet door behind it and making me jump, the bottle of Dove shampoo slipping from my shaky hands and clanking against the shower floor. The shower curtain gets ripped open, and Dustin stands there with bloodshot eyes and a murderous look on his face, his gaze letting me know that he's about to hurt me in some way right now.

I've become used to his looks, his sounds, and his demeanor. Usually when I can tell he's in a rotten mood, I'm able to shift it back to normal, and I save myself a beating. But I can tell by the look on his face that isn't happening this time.

He reaches into the shower and grabs my hair, yanking it so hard tears fill my eyes on contact as he tugs me against him. He begins choking me right away, looking down at my naked body in disgust. I feel so small I just want to crawl under a blanket, far away from him. But I can't free myself from his grasp, the airflow into my lungs slowly getting cut off.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" he yells in my face, his spit showering my cheeks and nose, making me shake in fear even more.

"I'm just taking a shower, Dustin. I just got home from work," I tell him, choking out words through his brutal grasp, trying not to sound "condescending," as he usually tells me.

A hard, painful slap across my face lets me know right away that I obviously said it in a way he didn't like. I bite back my words and hold in my tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my cries. His upper lip quivers the angrier he gets, and the panic flooding my insides becomes even worse.

"Why the fuck do you have to talk to me like I'm a fucking idiot, you slut?" He sneers, slapping me again with absolutely no remorse.

Noticing the broken bottle of shampoo on the shower floor, the mixture leaking out from the cracks in the bottle and making a mess of bubbles in the wading water my feet are in. The look he gives me when his eyes meet mine again truly terrifies me, and even though I don't pray, I begin to say a silent one—one to help save my life.

"Why the fuck did you make a mess with your shampoo? It's fucking cracked and leaking all over my goddamn shower!" He chokes me harder, slamming me into the shower wall as he climbs in with me, the faucet digging painfully into my spine.

"Dustin, it was an accident. I'm sorry," I croak out, clawing at his fingers to try and loosen them so I can breathe.

"You're a fucking liar. Did you have someone else in here with you? Huh, you fucking slut?" He screams and screams, losing his temper sooner than usual.

"No, I promise nobody was here. I just got startled when you slammed the front door, and it made me drop it," I whisper, afraid of what he'll do if he doesn't like my answer this time.

"Oh, so now the messy broken bottle is my fault?" His eyes turn wild, like I've never seen before, and it truly scares the shit out of me.

"No, that's not wha—" I try to assure him it wasn't his fault, but he loses it and roughly kicks my feet out from beneath me so I crash to the shower floor.

He bends down, letting my throat go but fisting my hair and yanking it very hard. He picks up the broken bottle and stands with his legs against my body so I can't move in the slightest way. And then he forces the bottle into my mouth, squeezing whatever shampoo is left down my throat until I'm gagging and gasping for breath. But he doesn't fucking care. Instead of helping me, he shoves my head down, holding the back of it while the rest is submerged in the water, basically drowning me in my own fucking shower. I flail my arms, trying to find any part of him to attack, but I can't. I panic even more because my mouth is full of shampoo that I keep throwing up, but the water floods down my lungs and up my nose as I fight back, shortening my survival time.

I can't breathe. I feel like I'm going to die with my face held underwater, and Dustin isn't even going to try to save me. He wants to see me dead, but every time he's close to killing me, he stops and walks away like nothing happened. I begin to see darkness under the water as my body stops fighting and my eyes are open, seeing my life flash before them.

Present Day

"Whitney, baby!" My name being yelled is what brings me back to the present. I'm panicking, though, sitting on the shower floor shaking badly, the nasty taste of the shampoo in my mouth and on my tongue. I look, noticing the bottle on the shower floor near my feet.

"Whitney, what is it?" Again I hear my name, but I'm too frozen to look up or even move for that matter.

The next thing I know, I'm being lifted out of the shower, a towel wrapping around my wet, naked body as I'm held in a pair of strong arms and carried out of the bathroom.

I don't come to until I'm brought to my bedroom and sat down, Havoc's arms strongly and possessively wrapped around me to try and make me feel safe. But I'm even more confused when I don't see Cade and Carter, just Havoc, whose heartbeat alone is enough to bring me out of my nightmare.

"Baby, what the fuck happened in there?" he asks as I look into his eyes, worry clearly evident.

"I... I had a flashback," I admit, freaked out about the shampoo switch. "Someone put a different bottle of shampoo in there, and I... I just panicked."

"Well, no one's been shopping for you, but it could be Boston's," he suggests, trying to lighten the tense mood.

"No, Havoc. This wasn't a simple mix-up. Someone was in here, and they switched my shampoo out for the one Dustin tried to kill me with. I haven't used that since I left him—I refuse to."

We look into each other's eyes again, trying to think of an explanation that doesn't involve Dustin's definitely being the one stalking me. But too many things have happened for me to ignore it now.

"Whitney, we need to be careful," Havoc says, his voice dropping an octave as he pulls me closer, his protective nature flaring up. "Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll figure this out together. Just breathe."

I lean my head against his chest, absorbing his warmth, my heart still racing. The fear from my flashback lingers like a shadow, and I can't help but think of how that shampoo bottle might be a twisted reminder that I’m not as safe as I thought. But the closeness of Havoc’s body calms me, and I focus on his steady heartbeat, allowing it to anchor me in this moment—the present, not the past. Suddenly, Crow bursts through the bedroom door, a worried expression etched on his face.

“What happened? I heard shouting and—” He pauses, taking in the sight of me wrapped in a towel, with Havoc holding me possessively. His eyes go from concern to understanding. “Whitney, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie automatically, not wanting to relive the moment again, even as my heart tells me otherwise.

Havoc shakes his head. “No, she’s not. Someone changed her shampoo. The one that… you know.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, his jaw clenched.

Crow’s expression darkens, fury flickering in his blue eyes. “This is not fucking good, Whit. You need to be extra careful. Whoever’s messing with you is getting braver. We can’t let our guard down.”

I felt helpless, like a pawn on a chessboard, caught up in a game I didn’t choose to play. “I thought I was safe here,” I whisper, tears threatening to spill again. "I thought Red and 13 were here all night."

"I don't know, but they're training for a fight tonight. King had us come here to relieve them in the middle of the night."

“You are safe with us,” Havoc insists, pulling my chin up to meet his intense gaze. “But we can’t be complacent. We need to keep an eye on everything. We need to discuss a plan going forward.”

“Cade and Carter should know about this,” Crow says, his tone changing to one of urgency as he glances at the clock. “They’ll want to be in on it, too. The more eyes we have, the better.”

I shiver, feeling overwhelmed but not wanting to seem weak. "What if they think I’m overreacting?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

“They won’t,” Havoc assures me. “Carter has dealt with worse—” His voice falters, and I can see he’s fighting a deep-seated anger. “If anyone understands trauma, it's him. Trust me, Whitney. They’ll protect you with everything they have, just like us.”

A rush of warmth spreads through me at his words, but the fear still looms large. I don’t want to seem paranoid or ungrateful, but the reality feels like a bitter pill to swallow, ripping open wounds I’ve been trying to stitch closed for years.

After a long silence punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of my heart, I finally say, “I want to know who it is. I need to face this. I can’t keep living in fear.”

The determination in my voice catches both of them off guard. Havoc looks down at me, a mixture of admiration and trepidation in his gaze.

“I admire your strength, but we have to be smart about this. Just because you want to face it doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

“ I fucking know that, but I can’t go to sleep every night wondering if he’s out there, waiting to attack. I won’t let my past control me anymore.”

Crow steps forward, his features softening for the first time since he walked in. “ We’ll make a plan to protect you and figure out who’s playing games. We'll set up some surveillance, and if we find anything, we’ll go from there.”

Havoc nods, clearly on board. “And if anything feels off, you come straight to us—only us. No second guesses. We do this as a team.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath, feeling the latent strength in their words, fortifying me against some invisible threat.

Together, we would face whatever danger loomed in the shadows, and I would no longer be a victim of my past.

“And Whitney?” Havoc adds, his tone serious. “No more showers alone for a while. I don’t want to take any risks. You deserve to feel safe, and we can help with that.”

A small smile breaks through the heavy mood when I hear his protective nature. “Yeah,” I say softly, my heart swelling with gratitude. “I’d like that.”

As we gather together, the three of us huddled in a united front, the memories of my past still haunt me, but they will no longer dictate my life. I’m not alone anymore, and that thought, coupled with the undeniable bond we share, gives me hope.

I didn't tell anyone else about the incident in the shower; I decided to keep it between the three of us. But seeing Dustin's face in my flashback absolutely ruined my entire fucking night.

Back at the club, under the watch of not just Havoc and Crow, but King and D too, I let myself become immersed in the song playing, dancing my heart out in the sexiest of ways, performing moves I've never even done before.

I hide behind my mask, a purple glow shining in my eyes instead of the blue from the mask I usually wear. I spin gracefully around the pole, bending backward and looking upside down at the crowd. My eyes land on a man in a mask with white glowing x's, but he doesn't sit or act like my stalker from the other night.

I focus on the music, sliding up and down the pole, running my hands all over my body as the words to the song hit me right in the heart and almost cause me to have another breakdown. But I keep dancing, showing off my ass as I twerk slowly, building up to a rapid tempo that has my ass cheeks clapping from my movements.

The beat of the music pulses through me, and for a long moment, I lose myself in the rhythm. I can feel the energy of the crowd around me—the sweet anticipation, the locked gazes hungry for my every move. I push aside any remnants of fear and doubt, pouring every ounce of passion into my performance.

As I twist and turn, the lights reflect off my skin, and I can feel an unmistakable sense of power wash over me. This is my space—my sanctuary—where I’m not Whitney the victim, but Whitney the dancer. I draw strength from the support of Havoc, Crow, and the others, letting it fuel my movements, pushing my body to grind against the pole and defy gravity with every spin.

Yet, as the song transitions to a slower, sultry rhythm, my confidence wavers slightly when I catch sight of the masked man again. The glow of the white X's makes him stand out, but he’s not lurking or looming; he sits comfortably among the others, even swaying slightly to the music. I force myself to focus, breathing deeply, but my mind races with thoughts of the past. I remind myself that tonight is not about him; it's about reclaiming my power and indulging in the raw beauty of expression.

With a sultry smile, I lean into the pole, letting my body arc sensually, the gracefulness transforming any lingering tension into a fluid dance. I’m aware of the energy in the room shifting, an encouraging hum from the spectators as I dance. My movements become bolder, pushing boundaries I never thought I could cross.

Suddenly, a shadow looms behind me, just as I’m about to execute my favorite trick. My body freezes for half a second as I turn to see whose presence interrupts my flow. But it’s just Cade and Carter, both of them cheering me on, their eyes sparkling with pride. That small comfort gives me the confidence to launch into my final spin.

As I descend toward the ground, the cheers crescendo, enveloping me like a force of love and acceptance. I catch sight of Havoc, his expression a mixture of awe and possessiveness, and it ignites a fire inside me. I push through, finishing strong with one last sultry pose that draws roars from the crowd.

Breathless and exhilarated, I step off the stage, my heart racing. I exchange quick glances with Havoc, who’s now joined my supporters at the edge of the stage. He wraps an arm protectively around my waist as I find my footing, and I lean into him, the warmth of his body steadying me.

"Damn, you were fucking phenomenal!" Cade beams, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Where did that come from?"

“I don’t know,” I reply, laughing as the adrenaline still courses through me. "I just felt it. Maybe I found my groove again."

"Let's keep this vibe going," Carter adds, sporting a devilish grin. “The night is still young, and I’m sure those moves made an impression.”

Havoc tightens his grip around my waist, his gaze intense. "You were fucking incredible, but remember we agreed—no more dancing alone."

I nod, my initial rush of exhilaration giving way to a lingering sense of unease. The fun of the night still weighs against the haunting memories, but I push them back down, reminding myself that I’m surrounded by people who truly care for me.

As we make our way to the bar, my attention is drawn back to the man in the mask with the white X’s. He’s now standing, his posture relaxed as he slyly raises a drink to me in recognition. My heart skips a beat. Something about his demeanor sends a chill along my spine, and I turn my head slightly, trying not to draw attention to the intrusion of fear.

"Who's he?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral but unable to mask the edge of uncertainty.

Cade and Carter share a look, their smiles fading as concern scrunches their brows. “Not sure,” Cade says reluctantly. “He doesn’t belong to any of the local crews. Could be—"

“A prospect or maybe someone who’s scouting,” Carter finishes, his voice clipped. “But whatever the case, we should keep an eye on him.”

Havoc reinforces his grip around me, grounding me in his presence. “Stay close. We’ll figure it out together.”

Meanwhile, the music transitions into something upbeat and infectious, enticing the crowd to move. A part of me wants to lose myself in that rhythm again, to keep dancing and reveling in that comforting energy. But another voice in my head reminds me of the lurking uncertainty.

As we step away from the bar, Havoc leans down close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Are you good?”

I turn my head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Yeah, just...still processing everything. I want to enjoy this moment, but...”

“But it’s hard to forget the past?” He finishes for me, his tone sympathetically understanding.

“Exactly. And now there’s this new guy. I feel exposed, even more so than before.”

“I get it. But remember that you’re not alone,” he reassures me. “We’re keeping vigilant. Just focus on enjoying yourself tonight. If he gets too close, I’ll step in.”

Together, we make our way deeper into the club. The throbbing bass reverberates in my chest as we dance, our movements fluid. Around us, laughter and conversation mix, filling the night with a sense of normalcy I haven’t felt in ages.

And though the shadow of fear still lingers on the fringes of my awareness, I’m starting to realize that perhaps I’m capable of reclaiming my love for this life, even amidst the chaos. I have to believe that the strength I've found in those I surround myself with will continue to ignite the fire within me, pushing back against the darkness of those I’ve left behind.

I decide that tonight, I’m going to dive deep into the music and embrace every moment. I will not let ghosts from my past dictate my future. Not anymore.