Hale and Olivia

Chapter 3

It had only been a few days since Hale helped her. Both pretended it had never happened, and life continued as before. When Hale lectured on new material, she tried to attentively listen and refrain from answering questions aimed at the entire class. Most afternoons, she spent at home, occupied with household chores or shut in her room.

"Hey, girl!" her mother's boyfriend called out to her one evening while she was cleaning the kitchen. His visits were always unexpected. Naturally, her mother never bothered to inform her in advance that he would be coming. "Here's some money, go buy me a few bottles of beer for dinner," he extended his hand toward her.

She took the banknotes from him without a word and went to put on her shoes. Winter was still raging, and the cold wind nipped at her cheeks on the way to the grocery store. Until she came of age, her stepfather never sent her to buy alcohol, but it had become a regular practice since turning eighteen.

Disgusted, she carried the full bag back to the apartment building, the clinking and clattering of glass resonating. The sky was just as dark, shrouded in massive clouds, as it had been in the preceding days. She couldn't wait for spring. This persistent snow was getting on her nerves.

When she returned home, the potbellied man was already impatiently waiting for his order. Olivia unloaded the groceries, handed him the receipt, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" he bellowed. His voice was tinged with disgust and anger. "And where's the rest?"

"The rest?" she asked.

Irritated, he pushed a chair aside to approach her, pointing to the coins in his hand: "I know exactly how much one beer costs! Sixty damn cents are missing!"

She blinked: "Maybe I lost them..." Before she could grasp what was happening, she found herself lying on the floor, experiencing intense pain in her stomach. She attempted to take a breath, but her breath was knocked out of her, and she felt the imprint of a man's foot on her abdomen. A chocolate bar fell out from her jacket pocket. Her eyes widened in fear as she caught sight of her stepfather's sobering gaze.

"So, you're going to steal from me?!" he grew even more furious, and another powerful kick landed on her back, followed by another on her shoulder blade, and a final one beneath her eye. The man then retreated to the living room, closing the door behind him, and judging by the sounds, he turned on the television.

Olivia, still lying on the ground, bit her tongue to suppress the cries of pain that wracked her body. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of women's feet emerging from the bedroom. They paused momentarily near her battered form but ultimately disappeared as well. It took several painful minutes before she managed to rise to her feet. She left the sweet treat where it had fallen and hurriedly retrieved her school bag, packing her uniform, change of clothes, and textbooks. Soon enough, she stood freezing at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive.

At the nameplate by the entrance to the tall apartment building, she located the name Bates and rang the doorbell. It chimed for a moment before a familiar voice responded: "Yes?"

"Hale?" she croaked. "It's Olivia. Could I come in, please?"

A brief silence followed. "Olivia, today isn't a good time for me. Let's talk tomorrow, alright?"

"I-I..." She tightly closed her eyelids, preventing the tears of disappointment from welling up. "Sure, tomorrow then. Goodbye."

The sound crackled, and the device fell silent. Olivia looked out onto the dimly lit street, with lamps covered by slowly descending fog and parked cars. She didn't feel like venturing into it again, but she had no choice. Suppressing the queasiness in her stomach and her trembling, she set off in a familiar direction.

Olivia entered the questionable establishment around half-past nine. The older, married men had already left and were now replaced by younger, tipsy, carefree ones. Olivia settled on a stool at the bar and asked the present bartender for the strongest drink he had. After verifying her age, the bartender nodded and took a bottle off the wall. 

She didn't have to wait long. A seductive whisper reached her ear: "Why is such a beautiful girl like you here all alone?"

She stifled the urge to roll her eyes at the typical line and turned to him with a forced smile. She estimated him to be maybe twenty-eight, at most thirty years old. His hair was slicked back, his facial features rather attractive and sharp, and his lips curled into a smirk.

"I ran away from home," she theatrically sighed and lowered her gaze. "I have nowhere to spend the night," she added, lifting her big eyes pleadingly after finishing the sentence. She knew exactly what worked on men like him, and once again, it proved effective.

His irises lit up with a challenge, and he straightened his back, leaning closer to her: "I could help you with that."

Before accepting his extended hand, she knocked back the glass of the strongest alcohol she had ordered. She believed it would dull her senses just enough to get through the night. The stranger tossed a few banknotes onto the bar and led them out. They walked quietly and cautiously along the deserted street until they stopped in front of an inconspicuous hotel.

"Won't you take me to your place?" she asked.

He chuckled: "No, my girlfriend probably wouldn't approve."

Olivia decided not to further comment on his decision. It wasn't something she would approve of, of course, but she had to prioritize herself and avoid sleeping on the streets.

"What's your name?" she inquired as they waited at the reception for a key to an available room.

"Bruce."

She nodded.

The room was decorated in shades of brown, encompassing every tone from beige to caramel and dark chocolate.

Bruce locked the door. Olivia, standing with her back to him, looked at the made bed with reluctance, trying not to envision what would follow. Her head was slightly spinning from the alcohol, and the world seemed one percent better.

A tall figure approached. He grabbed her shoulders with strong hands and whispered: "You should undress."

She obeyed the command, and soon she lay on the clean, cool sheets, completely naked, without a single piece of fabric to cover her. Bruce slowly discarded his clothes. He stood in front of the bed, greedily licking his lips and devouring the exposed female body with his eyes. "Kneel down," he commanded.

Olivia did as she was told. He seized her by the hair, pulling her closer to his partially aroused member. She took in the necessary oxygen into her lungs and let him do whatever he deemed appropriate.

Bruce was more forceful than anyone she had slept with before. When he concluded the brief foreplay, he lay on top of her and said: "I like it rough. I hope you'll properly repay me for this night's stay."

Without further delay, he tightly grasped her throat with strong fingers, while his other hand seized her delicate wrists and lifted them above her head. Without hesitation, he entered her, and even though she let out a painful gasp, he did not pause. Olivia was fatigued, and though her new wounds only worsened the situation, she knew that even without them, his uncompromising thrusts would still be incredibly painful. The pressure on her throat intensified with each subsequent movement.

Just before his climax, she began to squirm, attempting to loosen his grip even slightly. She couldn't breathe. However, Bruce paid no mind and concluded the act with the most forceful thrust yet, an almost inhuman moan, and a final tightening of his grip. Immediately after withdrawing, Olivia rolled onto her side and began to cough. Her battered body trembled incredibly. Knees, thighs, arms...

Bruce hastily dressed and glanced at the tired girl one last time. "I have to go. Sleep well."