Tiny's Sweet Obsession

12: Trapped

Lily POV

The next day, I spent most of the day in bed, except to make myself and Sean food. Thankfully, Sean left after lunch, which gave me time to sleep and recover in peace. I needed to shower and get the blood out of my hair because it was becoming too much. However, attempting to shower seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice.

Turning on the shower, I undressed, avoided the mirror, not ready to see myself. I carefully stepped into the shower, holding onto the bar inside, and didn't let go. Warm water washed over me, relaxing my tight muscles, and let out the breath I held as best I could.

I couldn't wash my hair, and I could only reach a part of my body, but I stood under the scorching water as long as it stayed warm. Once it turned cold, I promptly got out and stared at myself in the mirror, taking in my body and bruises.

New and old ones littered my body. Half of my face was swollen and bruised, and my lip split, but it was healing. My abdomen, however, didn't look as pretty, and I had a few busted ribs. Thankfully, the bruises stopped there, with a few light ones on my arms and legs, which would be easier to hide at work.

Work...shit. Where is my phone?

Wrapping the towel tightly around me, I looked for my phone and remembered Sean had smashed it. Looking in the trashcan by the toilet, I found it. Kneeling down, I grabbed it and saw the shattered screen, which didn't look like it would work anymore. Sighing, I placed it back in the trash and tried to get back up, but my body refused, and pain seared through my body.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I let myself fall apart.

Pain is an everyday occurrence. Some may never want to experience it. However, others welcome it openly and lean into it. I am somewhere in the middle. When it happens, I embrace it, but it has become something I am comfortable with and expect daily. Which no one should experience.

I sat on the floor, sitting in my pain, until my tears had dried and I found the energy to get up. Once standing, I grabbed the first aid kit and an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped two ice packs around my ribs. Once secured, I applied lavender oil and bruise cream to my cuts and other bruises.

Throwing on an oversized shirt and sweatpants, I made myself dinner and put the leftovers in the fridge for Sean. Returning to the bedroom, I carefully got in, and breathed for a few minutes. I wanted to call Pops but knew he would tell Tiny and the others, and that was the last thing I needed right now.

The thought of any one finding out about my home life caused my head to spin for a while. Eventually, my eyes felt heavy, and I didn't stop them from closing.

In my dreams, Sean and Tiny fought, and every time one was about to die, I woke up panicked and wondering who made it out alive. It happened throughout the night, and eventually, Sean joined me in bed. Draping his leg over mine, he starfished on top of me, constricting my already restricted breathing. Every time I tried to move him, he moved closer, and eventually I gave up.

By morning, Sean was back to his bruting self, and I tried my best to stay out of his way, but he reminded me of the drugs sitting on the counter.

"Those drugs won't sell themselves," he commented.

"When are you going to get your ass up and sell my drugs? Time is ticking and money is wasted," he would remind me.

On day three, I could move a bit more and cleaned up the apartment before Sean and his friends came over, only for them to tear it all apart again. Sean's friends eyed me, making comments about how once I was healed, they would return for a visit. Per usual, Sean laughed with them and didn't disagree. However, they noticed the drugs on the counter and asked about them, causing Sean to change his mood entirely.

"When are you going back to work, bitch? It's not like you're of any use to me here, and you know those drugs won't sell themselves," he scoffed. "The least you could do is clean up around here and bake up something."

The moment Sean found out I enjoyed baking, he would have me make him and his buddies something every week. Eventually, I lost the joy in it and slowly stopped making things and went out and bought them instead. It's not like he could taste the difference, and I was tired of him stealing my joy.

"Go make us something. We're hungry," Sean demanded, plopping himself on the couch.

I got started working on a basic vanilla cake and did so without thinking. Now that Tiger has offered me a baking job, I don't want to bake for anyone besides the Riders or Tiny. They appreciate whatever I make and can tell I made it with love and didn't just buy it from some store. I've always dreamed of having a shop but knew it would never happen.

Maybe if I save enough money while working for Tiger and gain confidence, I could open my own place. I don't want to work at the diner for the rest of my life, and this seems like the perfect opportunity for a new beginning. Maybe. Just maybe.