I wrote this story as one of four versions of an entry for a short story contest. Allthough edited and revised (once) this story never made the cut. However I would love to get reviews on it, as I put in the effort and know I have much to learn. Fell free to leave me any constructive feedback. Thnx!
Brief synopsis:
I know this is not where I want my life to go. So after years of living in this hell, it is time for me to take a stand and fight for my freedom.
“I told you I have no idea where the money went!” I gasp as he slams me into the wall of the hotel room. “You’d better stop lying to me, cookie!” he growls in my face. I just turn my head away. We have been through this many times before, his threats don’t scare me anymore. He has broken my arms and ribs, bruised my body and hurt me so many times I have learned to shut myself down when he gets like this. I work very hard for this money and I hate it. Right now, it’s my only option will have to be strong like I know I can be.
He releases his grip on me and I drop to the floor. Even though I know it’s what he wants, I refuse to cry. I have cried my tears long ago. I stay seated and watch as he sits down on the bed. “What am I to do with you cookie?” He says, and I know it’s a rhetorical question. He gives me his ugly stare as he reaches to the back of his pants and draws out his gun. Here we go again, I think as he points the gun at me. I stare at him blankly. If we are going to have a sit down I am sure as hell not going to be the first one to give in. I start to observe him. His hair is too long, too greasy and it makes him look like an Eastern European mob guy, although his name is Clarence and he was born and raised in Greenwich, New York. I always wondered where picked up his street skills as he most definitely did not learn them growing up.
Some people say kids become criminals because of their environment. Not this guy though, I think he was born evil. He always dresses a little off. It’s like you can see he has money, but he just doesn’t know how to spend it. He wears a suit that looks like it was once very nice. Now it’s just faded and dirty, as if he hasn’t washed it in a month. I bet it smells murky as well, I am hopeful I won’t find out whether I am right or wrong today, but you never know with Clarence. He can be slamming you against the wall in anger one minute and the slamming you against the headboard in excitement the next. He says he does it to test his ‘product’. He needs to know what he’s selling. He knows I don’t buy into it and just let him have his way to get it over with. I stopped fighting him a long time ago, discovering very early in our ‘relationship’ that it was useless. He would just break my arm or ribs and still make me work.
The only thing about him that looks nice is his tie. He always wears a nice tie and I have never seen any of them more than once. Of course it’s one of his favorite instruments as well. Perhaps that’s why he always wears a new one. After five minutes, he’s still pointing his gun and staring at me. We have done this ritual so many times I am almost at a point where I want stand up and say: “Come on Clarence, let’s cut the crap here.” But I don’t. I let him have his little stare down, knowing it will eventually frustrate him beyond the point of reason and he will either beat me half to death, strangle me half to death or fuck me half to death. I’ve been through all three and no longer have a preference so I just sit and wait. I don’t think he can see how bored I am getting here. I wonder what’s going on in his mind. Is he deciding what he’ll do to me this time? Or trying to figure out where I could have hidden the money, which I have, but in a place where he’ll never find it. Is he contemplating where I ever went wrong?
He has let his head fall down almost between his legs and I can hear him sigh. He is getting just as tired of this game as I am. While he has his head down like this I notice his hair is getting thin on the top of his head and I realize I don’t exactly know how old he is. He sighs again, puts his gun back in his belt and looks at me. I almost mistake his tired look for a look of sympathy and for one whole second I feel the need to get up and crawl into his arms. But then my thoughts get back on track and I can see in his face I now have that vacant look in my eyes again. “Let’s just get this over with, cookie” he says, as he gets up and takes a step in my direction. I refuse to look up at him as it is a very powerful gesture in the power-scale between us. Not that the scale would ever tip my way, but hey, at least it won’t tip further to his side. I see his feet coming closer towards me and try to keep my breathing even. My minds is prepared for what is about to happen and couldn’t care less, but somehow my body always braces itself and so I start breathing more heavily. He bends over and I can smell my guess about his suit was right. He grabs my arm and pulls me up. I try as hard as I can to control my breath but perhaps it is a lost cause. He pulls me against his body and I can feel his hard-on. No doubt about what he’ll do to me this time. “You know I care about you don’t you cookie?” He whispers in my ear.
He throws me on the bed and starts puling at my clothes. I keep reminding myself that it is all worth it. Soon this will all be over and I will never have to lie down and give myself to some desperate guy again. At least Clarence doesn’t go through the trouble of undressing himself, he just unzips and whips it out. I close my eyes and try to picture what I am doing this for. Sometimes it’s hard to hold on t that thought, but Clarence is a fast and non-demanding ‘customer’ . I hear his breathing going faster and soon my head starts bumping against the headboard. Now I am fighting my tears just because it’s hurting my head and for no other reason than that. He speeds up, my head bangs against the headboard harder and faster and suddenly he sighs high and loud, he drops on top of me and I thank god it’s over. After a few seconds he gets up, walks to the bathroom and slams the door.
I pull my panties back up and sit up on the bed. The faded sheets are now all messy from the friction but I couldn’t care less. Clarence turns on the faucet in the bathroom. “Thanks cookie, I feel better now, don’t you? Glad we could work this out!” he yells over the sounds of the running water. After a few minutes he comes walking out of the bathroom. He stops half way through the room and turns towards me. I try to look relaxed on the bed and pretend that the past ten minutes never happened. I hate that he has this power over me. “Look cookie, I like what we have going here, but I have business to run.” His voice almost sounds warm, apologetic. “If you’re money is not correct next week I will have to take stronger measures.” And with that he turns on his heels and stomps out of the room. As soon as I hear the door slam shut I turn onto my side and curl up into a little ball.
After a while I get up and walk to the bathroom. I don’t bother looking at my face in the mirror. I have grown to know the circles under my eyes and the dead look very well. I don’t really recognize the face I see in the mirror anymore. I used to have little freckles, a constant smile and a tingle in my eyes. My eyes used to be a bright and bubbly blue and my mom always said she couldn’t help but smile when she saw my face. She should see it now. I look at least ten years older. My freckles seem to be in hiding, I have dark circles and my eyes are a flat grayish color. My hair used to be a warm and shiny red, it had volume and danced around my face. Now it’s closer to a brown and just falls down sleek. I usually straighten it when I work so it at least looks like I put some effort in it. I take off my clothes and step into the shower. The warm water always seems to have a calming effect on me. Slowly my muscles start to relax and my mind becomes clearer. I try to straighten my thoughts and mentally perform my plan.
Before I know it the water turns colder and colder and I have to get out. I know it’s time to start taking action. I dry myself off, blow my hair dry quickly and get dressed. I am almost getting excited now. Or it might be just anxious. I know so much can go wrong but I have to do this. It is time, I have waited long enough, have endured long enough. I pick up the phone and dial the number I know so well. A familiar voice answers: “Hello?” . “Debs, it’s me. I am ready, let’s get this show on the road!” “I am so happy to hear that, everything is ready for you, give me an hour to get things rolling, I’ll call you when it’s time.” “Thanks Deb!”, I answer and hang up.
The worst hour of my life has just started. There is no turning back for me now. I will have to see this through to the end and it is going to be hard. I start pacing up and down the room. My mind is spinning. Mostly with anxiety and fear. What if he knows? What if he finds out? What if he’s not going to be there? What if he shows up too late? All kinds of thoughts keep bouncing through my head like tennis balls shot from a machine too fast and then hitting the edges and increasing in speed instead of slowing down. I get to a point where I think my head is going to burst. And then the phone rings. With a very silent voice I pick up: “Hello?”, I sound like I am about to cry. It’s Debs. “Sweety, everyone is in position, Michael will be at your door within a few minutes.” And sure enough someone knocks at the door. “Debs, I think he’s here.” I say with a small voice.
Deep inside I am afraid it’s going to be Clarence, who has figured out what I am about to do and has come to take me and hide me in some dark place for good. I drop the receiver and with hesitation I walk towards the door. I can see my arm going up to pull the handle but am not aware of actually doing this. I open the door and there’s Michael. He looks rough and mean and pushes me into the room. As soon as he closes the door he wraps his arms around me and holds me in a close embrace. I wish he had never done this. The tears start flowing and I start heaving in his arms. For a whole minute he does not let me go. Then he slowly releases me and places his hands on my shoulders. I try to look up at him through my tears. “Everything will be alright soon, I promise.” His voice is warm and doesn’t match his rugged look. But he’s supposed to look this way, it helps our little scene.
Then, without warning he slaps me right across the face. I am used to getting beaten but his one slap causes more damage than ten of Clarence’s all together. I fall to the floor and bump my knee. It starts bleeding. I can also feel blood running down my face. “That should do it.” Michael says dryly. I get up and make my way to the bed. He starts tearing my clothes and messing up the bedding even more. Now it’s time for me to act so I start screaming as loud as I can. I scream in absolute horror. Michael hovers over me in an aggressive stance. I almost start believing our little act myself.
And then Clarence storms in. He sees me on the bed and a look of horror comes over his face. He turns towards Michael and prepares to attack him. Suddenly from behind him, through the open door three other men storm in, shortly followed by Debbie.
She drags me out of the room so fast that I cannot see what the men are doing to Clarence. I can hear him moan under some hard punches though. For a brief second I feel sorry for him, but Debbie starts pulling on my arm and takes me to a tanned minivan. Behind the wheel is a girl I have never seen before. Debbie introduces me and with a warm smile she sticks out her hand and says: “Hi, my name is Rhonda.” I know there will be plenty of time to get to know Rhonda during our ten hour drive to the border of Mexico. Debbie hands me a small black bag. “This has your money, a plane ticket to Europe from Mexico City and a fake ID. From now on, you will be known as Cassandra Young.” I look at Debs and tears run down my face again. I am at a loss for words and can’t manage anything more than: “Thank you so much Debs, how can I ever repay you?” She smiles and says: “By never contacting me to let me know where you are. My guys will seriously beat up Clarence, but he will be looking for you soon enough. The only way for all of us to stay safe is if you don’t contact me.” More tears start running down my face now, as I start to realize that with gaining my freedom, I lost my best friend and saving angel.
I get in next to Rhonda and she takes off. “I know what you’re feeling hun.” She says, “But trust me, it’s a small price to pay for freedom.” And I know she is right.
