Dealer's Girl (complete)

Prologue

I wish I could say I regret my life. That if I could go back in time, I would change everything. That would be a lie though, and my mother taught me to never tell a lie. It was the one lesson from her that I never forgot and that I never went against. My mother died when I was a little girl. She suffered from postpartum depression, but she struggled through it and stayed strong for seven years. My mother was tried so hard to be the loving mother and happy wife; she was strong like that. The day after my seventh birthday I found her in the bathtub, the water red. Daddy always blamed me for Mommy’s death. He described her as such a happy woman; she always was ready to have fun and celebrate life. Then I came, and everything changed.

                It didn’t take long for Daddy to start taking his anger out on me. In fact, it was the day of her funeral that he first hit me. The wind was knocked out of my lungs and my back hit the floor hard. Nothing could surprise me after that; nothing overcomes the betrayal of a parent. For years I suffered in that Hell hole being beating and neglected. How could I leave my mother’s home? It was the closest thing I had to her. Some nights when Daddy was passed out drunk, I would go into her closet and look at her clothes. My favorite was a white sundress that she wore to my birthday party before I died. It had spaghetti straps and a blue ribbon that tied to a bow in the back. I would try it on once a year to see if it would fit. As a little girl, I thought it would be a wedding dress one day, but who could love a girl that caused such a disaster.

My Daddy loved me once, but it felt like he didn’t anymore. It came to at least three beatings every day and near death. I was only allowed to eat when he believed I deserved to which wasn’t too often. By the time I was eighteen and finally graduating high school, I was ninety pounds and had to carefully choose a dress to cover all the bruises and scars. After taking so many years of abuse, one starts to abuse themselves. When daddy found out about the cutting, it became the worst day of my life.

                “You are weak! Pathetic!” he yelled with alcohol in his system.

                “What do you care?” I yelled feeling courage. It was met with a fist to the face.

                “You weakling! Are you that desperate for attention, little whore?” his words stung as much as the beatings, “Why are you alive when my wife is dead?”

                “She was my mother,” I whispered.

                “Don’t you dare associate yourself with her!” that got him started on knocking me to the ground and kicking repeatedly.

                It wasn’t until fifty minutes later that he became bored or decided I learned a lesson. After he spat on my face, he went to the kitchen to get some beers then went to the living room. I waited until he was passed out before I dared to move. It was enough I had enough. Every movement hurt, but I couldn’t stay there. As quietly and quickly as I could, I went to my room and grabbed a small duffle bag. I packed two outfits, a few pictures of my mother, a sketchpad with a pencil, and lastly my mother’s white dress. In my bathroom, I cleaned the blood off my face, but didn’t bother hiding the bruises with makeup.  I took one deep, painful breath and made my way to the front door. I never looked at my Daddy before I left.

I made my way to a bus stop and waited. My leg couldn’t stop shaking the whole time. What if he woke up and was coming for me? Would that be the time finally kills me? My heart felt so much lighter when the bus finally pulled up. I gave the driver my money, which I took from a jar in Daddy’s room, and took a seat. I stayed on that bus all night until it made its last stop: New York City. I was one of three people left on the bus. My heart sped up again when I had to leave the new sanctuary of the bus.

                Out on my own I was so scared. It was just as terrifying as going home to face what was waiting for me. I was lucky though; I like to think it was because my mother was looking out for me. It was barely before sunrise when I came near an apartment building and my guardian angel came outside to save me. His name is Jared Mason and he is the love of my life.

                “Hey there,” he called over to me. When I didn’t answer he said, “Don’t you know to answer someone talking to you?”

                “Don’t you know talking to strangers is dangerous?” I said sarcastically.

                “Someone’s got sass,” he commented coming closer.

                “If you excuse me, I have to go,” I kept my head down, hiding my face.

                “Hold on pretty girl,” he lifted my face with his hand and looked almost shocked, “Who did that to you?”

                “Someone I’m trying to get far, far away from,” I answered.

                “Runaway?” he asked, “What’s your name?”

                “Sasha.”

                “Sasha, would you like to come up with me? I promise I won’t try anything and you can leave whenever you want,” his deep blue eyes were so sincere and compassionate. I was hooked.

                “Ok,” I whispered.

                “Ok? Great,” he said smiling. Jared took my bag and led me to the top floor where his apartment was. I had no clue what I was saying yes to, but I would never change it.