Don't You Trust Me?

Chapter 1- Powder Keg

There's nothing frightening about a bully. Really, who could be afraid of a rough, bumpy paper product? Bullies are just sandpaper; they scrape and push until blood is drawn, never satisfied until all armor is ground away. The thing about sandpaper though is in the end, you're left polished and gleaming while the paper is useless. No, there's nothing frightening about a bully. But that single slap to my face scared me motionless.

Sweaty hands wrap around my throat, holding me down. I don't open my eyes, earning another hit across my face. This slap didn't sting any sharper than all the ones from my mother, or all the ones from the constant stream of faceless men that she sold me to. It didn't hurt any worse when my lip split open this time. My blood didn't taste any more metallic and my head didn't ache any more stronger, my heartbeat throbbing sickeningly in my temples and behind my eyes. I hadn't cried from the broken ribs, the brand forced onto my unmarked skin, or the crumpled dollar bills thrown onto the mattress next to my abused body. But this one strike sent burning tears to my eyes. Burning tears that scorched their way down my cheeks, igniting a white hot flame within me. I'm done not fighting back. I'm worth more than this. You told me you were saving me from that life; that all the pain was over. You said you loved me.

"Don't touch me! Get off! Get off! Get off!" I scream.

"Excuse me miss, cream or sugar?" A gentle voice prods from beside me. I open my eyes and motion "no thank you" as the waiter sets my steaming cup of coffee down and bows away to another table. The polite smile drops from my face like a wet sack of sand and my eyes flick across the water fountain, returning back to the left corner table under the spindly, sad looking sapling. I scribble down another note under Thursday, not taking my eyes off the lounging shape in the distance, and gag on my coffee. How people actually enjoy this is beyond me. It tastes like burnt dirt with some bitter Ku Ding stirred into it. With maybe a dash of nutmeg. All coffee does is mess with your body chemistry and kick your digestive system into over drive. Yum.

My phone starts ringing and I reluctantly peel my eyes away from the suave blond haired businessman sitting by himself- like he's been doing every morning I've been watching him so far- to answer it. As soon as it's up to my ear, a jarring voice attacks me.

"Josette, I've been knocking on your bedroom door all morning so I'm guessing you aren't here? I put gas in the car, took a shower, got dressed, ate breakfast, and you still aren't back yet. Where are you? We need to go, the boys' flight lands in less than 2 hours and we might hit traffic. Do you think the boys will have eaten on the plane? It was a long flight... They probably serve food on the flight right? Should we just pick up something for them on the way over? Plan to stop for brunch?" My roommate Zoe's voice crackles over the line. She sounds breathless and excited, with just a touch of nerves.

I can't help the teasing in my voice as I respond with, "Alright eager beaver, calm yourself. You'll be making out with my brother soon enough so there's no need to just sit at the terminal staring at the empty sky before he's even within 500 miles of the airport." Zoe, my best friend, is dating my older brother, Nathaniel. I've pretty much gotten over the awkwardness of seeing them together because they were extremely close when we were all growing up, but it still sorta weirded me out seeing her climb all over him like a koala trying to steal some eucalyptus leaves he has hidden under his tongue or something. His being away for a 16 month business engagement in Tokyo, Japan was a breath of fresh air for me.

I love that they make each other happy, don't get me wrong, but my over-aware-at-its-single-status heart tended to thump painfully with every "I love you" I overheard cooed via Skype these past few months. After my heart was juiced horrifically within my chest cavity every time the two sickening lovebirds spent 30 minutes trying to convince the other to hang up, I crawled back into bed with my movies and crime novels. Funny enough, it was those very comforting words on decaying flesh and sociopathic murderers from Patricia Cornwell that enveloped and surrounded me, helping me through the past few months alone. They're the words that made me realize what I needed to do.