Dare Me (Part 50 - Alexis)

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Colby's words from earlier are still in my head, bouncing back and forth as I think about what they mean.

I'm your family.

Those three little words.

I try not to think too much into them because they give me something I haven't had in a very long time ––hope. One thing though is that hope has the power to destroy you. I learned that a few years ago. Expect less and you'll be disappointed less. I remember days going by with me staring out the window...waiting for her to come back. Praying that she just got lost or something equally as silly. I was just a little girl. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact she wasn't coming back. "You can stare out that window as long as you want, girl, but you aren't going to see that bitch. She left you, and if it wasn't for a check and the use I might can get out of you when you're older, I'd leave you, too."

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I shake away bad thoughts and walk over to the soft leather sofa to take a seat. I'm tired from getting up early, so I kick my shoes off and rest my head on the throw pillow, thinking I'll shut my eyes for just a moment.

Just a little bit...

It's dark, but I hear people talking in the living room. I'm thirsty, so thirsty, but I hate going in there when he has customers over. I swallow, trying to tell myself that I don't need anything to drink. Go back to sleep, Kat.

But my throat burns, and I just can't take it anymore. I tiptoe to my bedroom door and quietly unlock and open it. I stick my head out, looking down the hallway.

It's clear of people, which normally it wouldn't be, especially on a night when he's selling. After they stick a needle into their arm, they pass out wherever. And sometimes I have to step over them, which terrifies me, because one time a man grabbed my leg.

He pulled me down on top of him and began saying things I didn't understand before he puked all over us both. Dad likes to keep them around because they always want more.

I creep out into the hallway and hug the wall as I walk to the kitchen.

Maybe they won't see me.

Maybe he'll just act like I'm not here.

I swallow my nerves and step into the kitchen, heading straight for the red Solo cups. I grab one and fill it with water before bringing it to my parched lips.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?"

My hand opens from the sound of his voice, and the cup falls to the floor. Water goes everywhere.

"You little cunt. Can't even hold on to a cup. Clean this shit up."

"Don't yell at her, Saw," a woman says from behind him. She's skinny and has dirty blonde hair. She's pretty.

He charges forward and grabs me by my hair. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do in my house," he barks at her. "You drugged out whore."

I wince as he pulls me down to the cup on the floor. She blanches and turns back to the living room.

"I said fucking clean it up," he yells, pushing me closer to the floor. My ribs burn when he kicks me before he walks away.

My bones shake and tears form. One day, I'm going to kill him.

I take in a sharp breath of air and sit up, wiping sweat from my brow and trying to breathe normally.

"You okay?"

I turn to look beside me, seeing Colby sitting on the other end of the couch. I fell asleep. I was dreaming. I'm not there. It was just a dream.

No, it was a memory.

"Yeah," I say, moving hair from my face. "How long was I asleep?" I rub my ribs, remembering the pain.

"Like thirty minutes."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You were tired. It's fine. I did a little work, checked in on some things at Red. Come here," he says, pulling my arm. I fall onto his lap and take in a deep breath, loving how comforting his smell is to me.

It was just a dream, Lex. He's not here. He can't hurt you anymore.

"You're shaking." He lifts my chin so I look at him. "Why are you shaking?"

"Just had a bad dream, is all." I look away from his blues.

"Tell me about it."

I shake my head and sit up. "I can't remember."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, only stares at me...through me. He nods and chews on his bottom lip before looking down to the floor.

I feel bad.

I should talk to him, tell him. But it's hard.

"I'm thirsty," I say, standing and straightening out my shirt as I walk to the small kitchen. I search for a glass, finding them after a beat. I fill it from the faucet because the fridge is old school. I rest my elbows on the small kitchen island, looking down at the worn wood. I haven't had a dream about him in a long time.

When I first ran away, I dreamed about him every night, thinking he would come for me. Why? I don't know. He never wanted me there in the first place. I was a nuisance, a necessity so he could get a welfare check every month. I was also his punching bag and plaything. I wipe a hand over my face, looking up to see Colby standing on the other side of the island.

"Shit, you scared me," I say.

He watches me, his dark eyes unyielding. He rests his elbows on the counter. "You know everything about my past now," he says.

I swallow and avert my eyes.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" I ask.

"Don't close up."

"I'm not."

"You are. I know because I've done it my whole life."

I look back at him as he reaches over and grabs my hand. "Talk to me. Tell me the bad stuff."

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