Jillian Rose

Chapter 6

I closed my eyes as Blake crossed the room towards me. He entrapped his hand in my hair at the base of my neck and leaned down, inhaling deeply at the crook. I shuddered. He was too close to me. I tried to breathe, but my breaths were coming in short and staggered. I tried to control my shaking, but I was failing.

"I can smell your fear, Jillian."

My eyes fluttered open. He liked fear. I couldn't let myself be afraid of him.

I watched him as he crossed the room again. That grin was back on his face. He sat in his usual spot on the couch and motioned for me to take my seat in the chair next to him-never on the couch with him.

I remained standing where I was.

"Come on, sit."

I remained standing. I was not a dog he could order around. I would not be afraid of him. I locked eyes with him trying to show him that I was not afraid of him. The grin disappeared from his face. He got the hint. I watched his slender fingers slip under his blazer. My eyes followed the green that fell onto the table. Three bills. Three hundred dollars.

I shook my head. The last story cost him five hundred. I was getting closer to what he wanted to know. I was not going to be getting cheaper. I could feel the corner of my mouth twitching as he threw two more bills on the table. Five hundred was more like it, but I liked the idea of an increase of two hundred. I looked up at him and raised my eyebrow. "More," I whispered.

"More?" His lips barely moved. I couldn't read him. He wasn't grinning. His lips were pressed firmly together. How high could I make him go for my memories? I bit the inside of my bottom lip as he threw the rest of his cash out of his wallet. I picked up the bills and counted. Six hundred and seventeen dollars. Too bad I didn't take credit.

"Don't make me beat it out of you," he said. His eyes burned holes through me.

"Where Miss Caroline took me after the James? That's what you want to hear?"

"I suppose.

"She took me to the Christianson's. I didn't really know what to expect with them. Miss Caroline wouldn't tell me anything about them, but I knew they were going to be good people. They didn't live in the Inner city like the rest of the foster homes. I was going back to suburbia where I was normal, or well, I would at least feel normal. No more crowded streets, no more bars on the windows, no more almost starving-I was going back home. I had high hopes for my life as I was being driven past the white picket fences-literal white picket fences.

When Miss Caroline introduced me to Mr. Christianson I couldn't help but smile. It was Wednesday evening and he was going to church. He was a minister. As soon as I found that out I felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I was about to enter a house where the biggest fear was a fear of God. I didn't care which version of Christianity they followed, as long as they were good people, and I just knew they were good people. He was a minister.

Mrs. Christianson looked just like Mr. Christianson. I couldn't form a reason why someone would wear their Sunday best while cleaning the house, but I was starting not to ask questions. Mrs. Christianson was a quirky woman. She said "Oh golly", "Oh dear," "Jiminy Crickets", and "Well isn't that Swell, Peter?" Peter was Mr. Christianson's first name. I felt like I was trapped in an episode of Leave it to Beaver. They even came with their own daughter.

Her name was Sally. She was an adorable little thing. Only four years old and cute as a button in her pigtails and fluffy lavender dresses and white socks with lace at the top. When she saw me, the first thing she said was "Are you my new sister? Are you going to play pretty pretty pony with me!" It was such a warm welcome. I should have known it was too good to be true.