word ‘that’ out with a grimace.
I was shocked, “I’m a prisoner, Mrs. Martinez. How is this better?”
“Call me Sarah. Better to be a prisoner of a good man than an evil one. Tommy is a good man. You’ll see. Underneath all his---you’ll see.”
I shook my head, “I wasn’t imprisoned by my father. He left me in foster care for 9 years. I was free but he came and he--- and Tommy is forcing me into---” I stopped talking. I didn’t want to say another word. Rule number 2.
“Your fiancé will provide for you, keep you safe, give you a family, an amazing loving family. Maybe you don’t think this is what you want but you will be very blessed. I know he has dark tendencies but I think the right woman will bring him into the light. He’s had much pain in his life so far. He’s had a lot to prove. He’s beautiful outside; he just needs love to help create some beauty inside where he feels ugly. You’ll see.”
How promising. Ugh.
I sipped my coffee and stared out at the forest beyond the pool. I was done listening to her. This was pointless.
“I hope we can be friends. You can come to me if you need anything.”
Yeah, she’s loyal to him, to them. I won’t go to her for a thing. I stared, unseeing, ahead of me.
She must’ve picked up on my vibe because she left me alone then, patting me first on the shoulder and saying something softly in Spanish. I ate some of the food but really wasn’t all that hungry so it was tasteless and pointless. I was worrying about Rose, Cal and everyone who would be worried about me. I don’t know if ‘worry’ was the right word for the emotions I was feeling about my Dad, though. He had really done it this time. And Tommy said he’d take care of things with Rose and Cal but I hadn’t a clue what that meant. I felt sick about it. Was he trying to get me out? Tommy’s father had certainly said different. How could Dad have looked so calm when he watched them drive away with me?
It started to rain so I wandered back into the house. Mrs. Martinez was cleaning the kitchen, “Should I give you a tour of the house?” she piped up.
“Actually, I’d like to lie down. I don’t feel all that great.” I couldn’t care less about a tour of my prison.
She smiled warmly, “Do you need something? Painkillers, tea, anything like that?”
“I just need a nap. Thank you, Mrs. Martinez.”
“I’m not married. And call me Sarah.”
I nodded, then I went back upstairs to Tommy’s room and got under the covers. I felt dirty in his bed, the bed where he’d screwed me that morning. The bed where I’d let him do that to me without fighting back. The bed that smelled like him and that smelled like sex. I wondered if my Dad lost any sleep last night. I thanked my lucky stars, if I had any, (I probably didn’t) that I wasn’t going to get pregnant from this morning’s activities since he hadn’t worn a condom. I rubbed my arm, feeling the small birth control implant that was there. I only hoped that Tommy Ferrano didn’t have any STDs.
I woke up a few hours later feeling no better. I wandered over to the wet bar Tommy had gotten wine from the previous night and opened the mini fridge. It was stocked with bottled water and had several wine bottles plus a few bottles of beer. I got a bottle of water and then wandered into the bathroom and found a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I took two of them, hoping they’d save me from this excruciating tension headache, and then I climbed back into the bed. My eyes landed on the heart-shaped box. It had been moved from the dresser to right beside me on the bedside table and then my eyes flew up to the ceiling so fast that it was like I’d subconsciously thought I could un-see the box. I didn’t even want to think about that box. What I did want to think about was how I was going to get out of this mess.
When it got dark, the door opened and I thought it’d be Sarah Martinez again as she’d looked in on me
I was shocked, “I’m a prisoner, Mrs. Martinez. How is this better?”
“Call me Sarah. Better to be a prisoner of a good man than an evil one. Tommy is a good man. You’ll see. Underneath all his---you’ll see.”
I shook my head, “I wasn’t imprisoned by my father. He left me in foster care for 9 years. I was free but he came and he--- and Tommy is forcing me into---” I stopped talking. I didn’t want to say another word. Rule number 2.
“Your fiancé will provide for you, keep you safe, give you a family, an amazing loving family. Maybe you don’t think this is what you want but you will be very blessed. I know he has dark tendencies but I think the right woman will bring him into the light. He’s had much pain in his life so far. He’s had a lot to prove. He’s beautiful outside; he just needs love to help create some beauty inside where he feels ugly. You’ll see.”
How promising. Ugh.
I sipped my coffee and stared out at the forest beyond the pool. I was done listening to her. This was pointless.
“I hope we can be friends. You can come to me if you need anything.”
Yeah, she’s loyal to him, to them. I won’t go to her for a thing. I stared, unseeing, ahead of me.
She must’ve picked up on my vibe because she left me alone then, patting me first on the shoulder and saying something softly in Spanish. I ate some of the food but really wasn’t all that hungry so it was tasteless and pointless. I was worrying about Rose, Cal and everyone who would be worried about me. I don’t know if ‘worry’ was the right word for the emotions I was feeling about my Dad, though. He had really done it this time. And Tommy said he’d take care of things with Rose and Cal but I hadn’t a clue what that meant. I felt sick about it. Was he trying to get me out? Tommy’s father had certainly said different. How could Dad have looked so calm when he watched them drive away with me?
It started to rain so I wandered back into the house. Mrs. Martinez was cleaning the kitchen, “Should I give you a tour of the house?” she piped up.
“Actually, I’d like to lie down. I don’t feel all that great.” I couldn’t care less about a tour of my prison.
She smiled warmly, “Do you need something? Painkillers, tea, anything like that?”
“I just need a nap. Thank you, Mrs. Martinez.”
“I’m not married. And call me Sarah.”
I nodded, then I went back upstairs to Tommy’s room and got under the covers. I felt dirty in his bed, the bed where he’d screwed me that morning. The bed where I’d let him do that to me without fighting back. The bed that smelled like him and that smelled like sex. I wondered if my Dad lost any sleep last night. I thanked my lucky stars, if I had any, (I probably didn’t) that I wasn’t going to get pregnant from this morning’s activities since he hadn’t worn a condom. I rubbed my arm, feeling the small birth control implant that was there. I only hoped that Tommy Ferrano didn’t have any STDs.
I woke up a few hours later feeling no better. I wandered over to the wet bar Tommy had gotten wine from the previous night and opened the mini fridge. It was stocked with bottled water and had several wine bottles plus a few bottles of beer. I got a bottle of water and then wandered into the bathroom and found a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I took two of them, hoping they’d save me from this excruciating tension headache, and then I climbed back into the bed. My eyes landed on the heart-shaped box. It had been moved from the dresser to right beside me on the bedside table and then my eyes flew up to the ceiling so fast that it was like I’d subconsciously thought I could un-see the box. I didn’t even want to think about that box. What I did want to think about was how I was going to get out of this mess.
When it got dark, the door opened and I thought it’d be Sarah Martinez again as she’d looked in on me
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