The buckle of his belt jingled like an annoying bell as he zipped his blue jeans. He sucked in his gut as he once again attempted to fasten his belt. “Get up, get dressed.”
His voice thundered through her head.
“I said get dressed.” Chunky arms accentuated by long thick knuckled fingers reached out toward her.
He grabbed his shirt from where he’d tossed it onto the bed and laughed. “Your mom’s gonna be lookin’ for ya.”
Alcohol and sex. The movies made it look like fun. Kelly Rose Mitchell should have known real life was not like the movies. The reality was that alcohol and sex were dumb as hell, at least this time. Raising slowly from the skunky bed beneath her, she placed a hand to her stomach because everything hurt. No, not her stomach, but her entire lower body. She wanted all of this to go away. To be a part of some freaking nightmare. I screwed my dad’s best friend.
The pain between her legs spread through her body as she moved and twisted attempting to untangle herself from the sheets wrapped around her. She cupped her hands over her mouth. Her cheeks blew out as a wave of heaves flowed through her. Nothing came out. Tears dripped off her cheeks onto her bare chest covering her small breasts.
Near the side of the bed, he hovered: a boogeyman. “You want your mommy? Good, go home to your mommy.” He chastised as he raked his hand across thinning hair. Hair that had once been dark and full a testament to his mixed ancestry. “Tell your daddy I said hi when you see him.” He laughed. “Hell, do you even know where your daddy is?”
Monstrous and menacing, the fair skin of his face looked blotchy and red. He stalked up to the bed and leaned down.
He smelled like stale alcohol mixed with soy sauce, and she scrunched up her nose. Something inside her wanted to scratch his eyes out, but he was much bigger and she had volunteered to be here. Truthfully, she never should’ve been here, but she couldn’t change what happened. Not now.