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Chapter Thirteen

Swayze

It’s not long before I fall asleep, cocooned safely in my bed. I was blissfully exhausted after the intense orgasm Daddy pulled from me, my body remembering every stroke he left behind. Every touch made my skin sing his praises. He left himself tattooed on my soul. When my alarm wakes me, I almost throw my phone against the wall. The dream I was having was too good to let go of. The only thing that inspires me to drag my ass out of the bed is that I can experience the real thing. Daddy’s here now.

I roll over and slip out from beneath the heavy comforter. The trailer is stuffy, as always. I creep down the hallway to the living room, and my heart sinks a little at not seeing Daddy on the couch. It’s lunchtime, so maybe he ran off to get some food. God knows Mom doesn’t keep anything around here. She’s too worried about spending what little cash she does get from disability on her drugs. Anything I earn also supports her habits. I wonder what she’ll do now that Kyle is out of the picture. I’m sure some other sleazebag will take his place.

After quickly showering in the small, cramped bathroom, I exit with only a towel wrapped around my body. There’s a little bit of commotion in the living room, which has me racing to see if Daddy has come back, but I’m met with a tight-lipped Mom and the hungry, predatory eyes of a drug dealer.

“Swayze, this is Reaper. Reaper, this is my daughter. She’s the one that picked the drugs up for me last night. Isn’t that right, girl?” She questions with an arch to her brow.

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. Why didn’t I think they would come for us? Where’s Daddy?

“Yeah.” I agree with her statement, keeping my answers short.

The greasy man straightens from his position against the counter and crowds me. Liquor smells like it’s seeping from his pores.

“How was Kyle last night, huh? Did he seem well to you?” He pushes a wet strand off my shoulder and I have to suppress the disgust that’s wanting to explode from my mouth.

“He was the same.” I cock my hip to the side, showing nonchalance in my stance like I don’t care that I’m standing in front of this pervy guy in a towel and nothing else.

“Hmm. Was he pushy at all? Did he try to grab this sweet ass, and did you fight him?” The question leads to his hand squeezing my backside. Fight. I resist the urge to smack his hand away as he lingers there, his fingers dangerously close to the sensitive flesh of my cunt, the towel doing nothing for protection.

“He was fine,” I spit. “What’s this about?”

Reaper lets go of me then and strides over to Mom, who doesn’t look like she’ll defend me at all. She must be mad that this is ruining her high.

“We can’t seem to get a hold of him for some reason. That’s all.” Mom is standing there in her black leggings and white tank top that looks like she pulled out from the bottom of her dirty clothes hamper. Reaper slinks around her, running a finger over her exposed neck and she tilts, giving him full access. She must have something in her system because her eyes close slightly at the contact.

“Well, if that’s all, I need to get ready for work.” I move to get past them and toward my room when he steps in my path.

“If you hear or see anything. Let me know, okay?” He pushes a crumpled piece of paper to my chest. I pull it back to read, the water from my skin bleeding the ink.

He gave me his phone number. What the fuck? Does he have wads of paper with his number stuffed in his pocket, readying to give them out like goddamn business cards ?

Not wanting this interaction to last any longer, I give him a curt nod and hold up the piece of paper. “Yeah, sure.”

Once that uncomfortable situation is behind me, I close the door to my room and lean against it for a moment, catching my breath. Dad might have been able to dispose of a body, but what about the creeps that came looking for it. What’s he going to do about them?

I robotically dress, lost in thought, and almost miss the roar of an engine. I race to the window and peek out between the tattered blinds. A black Corvette kicks up dust and gravel. Thank goodness Reaper’s gone, but where the fuck is Daddy? Is he okay?

The time between my breaths gets shorter and shorter. I feel like a boulder is weighing my shoulders down, compressing me. A panic attack. I quickly sit on my bed and lower my head between my knees, waiting for the sensation to pass. When it does, my alarm chirps again, letting me know it’s time to leave for work.

I hope he’s okay.