about me? Was that why Griffith kept coming around? With shaking hands, I picked up the large pieces of glass, put them in the towel, and stood to get the broom.
“Hope.”
I pulled my shoulders in and felt as if I’d taken a blow to the stomach. The noise of the bar diminished until all I could hear was the quiet of my mind and Drake’s voice. Even without turning, I knew it was him.
“ Come here, you pretty little thing. Mmmm, so tasty. I love the gingers. Why would you try to cover it up? So fiery, they taste the best.”
Clutching the rag in my hand, I concentrated on my knuckles whitening from my grip.
“I know you can hear me.”
His voice permeated my mind like thick oil running over my brain. I felt violated, dirty, as his voice slithered through my head like hundreds of tiny centipedes coursing through, knowing my every thought.
I dropped the rag to clutch my head, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could force Drake out. Laughter roared through my brain, and I ground my teeth, then spun around to face him. He was staring right at me, as I knew he would be.
Though he wore a smirk, his lips never moved. “ I wanna play” reverberated through my mind.
Chapter Eight
“No.” I braced my hands behind me on the counter and stared at Drake.
Griffith raised his beer bottle to his lips and paused, looking from me to Drake and back again.
Drake’s eyes were locked on me. His presence loomed in my mind, despite my resistance. The noise from the bar seemed far away, as if I were under water and the only clear voice was his. Out of the corner of my eye, Griffith’s lips moved, as he tried to gain Drake’s attention, but I couldn’t hear what he said and Drake ignored him. Drake’s focus never wavering from the invasion of my mind.
“Come on over to the dark side, Red. It’s more fun here. What good has being good done for you? Giving you pain all the time. We can give you pleasure and the power you desire. That you deserve. You could be the princess to our Queen.”
Griffith shoved his elbow into Drake’s side, knocking him off his perch on the barstool. As soon as Drake looked away, his presence retracted from my mind, like the last of the water rushing down the drain. The roar of the bar noise filled my ears, and I stumbled, cradling my head in my hands.
“Another day, Red.” Drake kissed his palm and blew it my way, his tongue snaking out as he did so. “I’ll find someone else to play with for now.” He winked as he sauntered away, stopping beside Bob, who looked one drink short of passing out.
“Hope.” From Griffith’s expression, he must’ve been calling me. I shook my head and retreated to the kitchen.
“Ruthie, I can’t do this.” I wrapped my arms around my waist but couldn’t stop shaking. Drake’s violation of my mind had exhausted me, leaving me feeling more violated than having the hope sapped out of me.
Ruthie scrubbed at a pan, up to her elbows in a sink full of soapy water. “It’s nothing. Just keep serving them their booze. Heck, by this hour they won’t notice what you give them. It’ll be closing time soon, anyway.” She stared off with a faraway expression I’d come to associate with one of her rambling stories coming on.
“I remember this one time, old Joe, well, he’s long gone now.” Ruthie raised her hand to the ceiling, as if in a toast, soapsuds running down her arm. “He was as regular here as great-great-grandma Hilda and her stewed prunes.” She chuckled. “Reckon I can’t say there was a day I worked Joe wasn’t here. Well, it turns out one Friday I realized Chief hadn’t filled the stock.” She put a finger to her chin, giving herself a soapy goatee. “Not sure if he forgot to add it on the sheet, or if they didn’t fill the order right, but anyways I was plum out of whiskey. I knew Joe wouldn’t take that too well.”
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming. “I’m not talking about the job.”
She turned, her eyes
“Hope.”
I pulled my shoulders in and felt as if I’d taken a blow to the stomach. The noise of the bar diminished until all I could hear was the quiet of my mind and Drake’s voice. Even without turning, I knew it was him.
“ Come here, you pretty little thing. Mmmm, so tasty. I love the gingers. Why would you try to cover it up? So fiery, they taste the best.”
Clutching the rag in my hand, I concentrated on my knuckles whitening from my grip.
“I know you can hear me.”
His voice permeated my mind like thick oil running over my brain. I felt violated, dirty, as his voice slithered through my head like hundreds of tiny centipedes coursing through, knowing my every thought.
I dropped the rag to clutch my head, squeezing my eyes shut as if I could force Drake out. Laughter roared through my brain, and I ground my teeth, then spun around to face him. He was staring right at me, as I knew he would be.
Though he wore a smirk, his lips never moved. “ I wanna play” reverberated through my mind.
Chapter Eight
“No.” I braced my hands behind me on the counter and stared at Drake.
Griffith raised his beer bottle to his lips and paused, looking from me to Drake and back again.
Drake’s eyes were locked on me. His presence loomed in my mind, despite my resistance. The noise from the bar seemed far away, as if I were under water and the only clear voice was his. Out of the corner of my eye, Griffith’s lips moved, as he tried to gain Drake’s attention, but I couldn’t hear what he said and Drake ignored him. Drake’s focus never wavering from the invasion of my mind.
“Come on over to the dark side, Red. It’s more fun here. What good has being good done for you? Giving you pain all the time. We can give you pleasure and the power you desire. That you deserve. You could be the princess to our Queen.”
Griffith shoved his elbow into Drake’s side, knocking him off his perch on the barstool. As soon as Drake looked away, his presence retracted from my mind, like the last of the water rushing down the drain. The roar of the bar noise filled my ears, and I stumbled, cradling my head in my hands.
“Another day, Red.” Drake kissed his palm and blew it my way, his tongue snaking out as he did so. “I’ll find someone else to play with for now.” He winked as he sauntered away, stopping beside Bob, who looked one drink short of passing out.
“Hope.” From Griffith’s expression, he must’ve been calling me. I shook my head and retreated to the kitchen.
“Ruthie, I can’t do this.” I wrapped my arms around my waist but couldn’t stop shaking. Drake’s violation of my mind had exhausted me, leaving me feeling more violated than having the hope sapped out of me.
Ruthie scrubbed at a pan, up to her elbows in a sink full of soapy water. “It’s nothing. Just keep serving them their booze. Heck, by this hour they won’t notice what you give them. It’ll be closing time soon, anyway.” She stared off with a faraway expression I’d come to associate with one of her rambling stories coming on.
“I remember this one time, old Joe, well, he’s long gone now.” Ruthie raised her hand to the ceiling, as if in a toast, soapsuds running down her arm. “He was as regular here as great-great-grandma Hilda and her stewed prunes.” She chuckled. “Reckon I can’t say there was a day I worked Joe wasn’t here. Well, it turns out one Friday I realized Chief hadn’t filled the stock.” She put a finger to her chin, giving herself a soapy goatee. “Not sure if he forgot to add it on the sheet, or if they didn’t fill the order right, but anyways I was plum out of whiskey. I knew Joe wouldn’t take that too well.”
I bit down on my lower lip to keep from screaming. “I’m not talking about the job.”
She turned, her eyes
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