Untitled Story

Chapter 2

Entering my home, I feel sweat tickling my neck. Looking in, I don't see him. Not wanting to waste anytime, I book it to my room. When I think I got away free, a hand comes out at the last second, close lining my throat. Hitting the ground, my head bounces off the tile floor in the hallway. Wincing, I sit up on my elbows and rub the back of my head while trying to gain my breathe back.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Paul snarled in my face. His breathe smelt of cigarettes and whiskey. Yuck. Trying to calm my racing heart, I smile sweetly up at him and say, "I was at work, Paul." Noticing my mistake right away, I flinch inside. Chancing a glance at the mountain of a man on top of me, his face is beet red, I can see steam coming out of his ears.
"What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me." Paul clenched his jaw, I swear I think I heard a tooth crack.
"I was at work, daddy." I whisper, trying to keep the contempt out of my voice. Paul moved back, and I risked standing. Suddenly, I felt his beefy hand wrap around my wrist. Pulling me back down the hall to the kitchen. I know what is coming. Sighing inwardly, I clench my jaw and brace myself. When we make it to the kitchen, Paul grabs for the kitchen knife. Turning my wrist over, he slides the blade across my wrist. Deep enough to leave more scars but not enough to need stitches. Pain flares down my wrist, tears spring in the corners of my eyes but I don't dare let them spill. Releasing my wrist, Paul turns and rinses my blood off in the sink. Using my other hand, I cup my wrist to stop the bleeding.
Sniffling, I bare my teeth to my step father and ask, "May I go to my room, daddy?" Mortification fills my body like lead. Paul nods his head, his breathing slowing down now that he's marked my skin again. Turning on my heel, I take off to my room. Picking up my bag where I must of dropped them when Paul first came for me, I race to my room. Locking the door, I run to the bathroom that joins my room and I run my wrist over the water. Bandaging my wrist up, I put on a long sleeve thermal and hope that it heals before my next shift at TOPS.
After an hour of being back in this hell, I grab my phone and start back locking for a new place to live. My home life wasn't always this bad. Once upon a time, I had a present and protective mom and a father who didn't cut my skin for his own sick pleasure, I had a father who took me to the arcade and to baseball games. And who loved me. I forgot what it felt like to be loved. 7 years ago, my dad left us. My mom fell into such a deep depression she was sedated more often then not. Then she met Paul, and at first he was charming and nice. I may not have been welcoming or warm. But I was always respectful. Until, the first night he decided Mommy wasn't enough to fill his appetite. What kind of sick fuck molests a 12 year old girl? Paul does. Pulling out of the downfall of my family, I close out of my apartments.com app and start scrolling through Facebook. Nothing there. Feeling restless, I get up and take a shower. Looking in the mirror, I study my face. Heart shaped olive toned face, chubby cheeks, arched eyebrows, full lips that'd make Angelina Jolie jealous, light green eyes, my hair black as ink, hitting the top of my thighs. Undressing, I take note of my full 38 D breasts, my hourglass figure, and all the scarres that accompany me as well. Cupping my breasts, I pull at the sparkly pink, studs that are in between my nipples. Groaning softly, I move my hands between my legs, feeling the stud right between my clit, I give it a tug and a swirl with my index finger. Biting my bottom lip, I flex my hips forward looking for some kind of release. Swirling faster and faster, until fireworks go off behind my lids, riding out the orgasm until I feel sated and relaxed. Turning the knob to the shower, I jump in and wash myself. Not bothering to dress after, I fall to sleep dreaming of my life after this.

*****
Waking with a start, I look around my room. I hear something? Oh, it's my phone. I look off the edge of my bed and grab it.
"Hello?" I groggily answer, trying to wake myself up. Ugh I need coffee.
"HEY BITCH!" My best friend for the last 4 year screams down the phone. Holy shit, what time is it? Looking at the phone, it reads 3:47 in the afternoon. Shit, I slept all morning. At least fucker left me alone. Looking back to my door making sure the lock is still in place, it is. Thank fuck for that.
"Roe? Are you there?" Jill asked, concern lacing her words. Rolling my eyes, I put the phone back to my face.
"Hey Jilly, I'm here." I mutter as I start getting dressed. Going to my full length mirror, I pick up a pair of jeans and a pokemon crop top. Shut up, Squirtle is my other baby.
"Jill, what's up?" Cutting off her rant about her new boy toy.
"Come meet me at TOPS. I'm dancing tonight but you can come chill with me before I go on? Pleeease?" She pleads, smirking I agree and grab my blue toms from my closet.
"Sure but your buying me a drink afterwards." Agreeing, we hang up. Now how to get out without anymore scares or bruises if I can help it. Slinging my bag on my shoulder, I grab my shit and leave my door locked. Deciding on going out the window instead of chancing a run in with him. 
I lift the window up and scoot my butt along the window sill, I reach with my foot to find the ground. Remember I'm a fucking midget. Finding the grassy ground, I drop. Then run my way to my 'stang. Jumping in, I duck down in case my attempt to flee fails. After a few minutes, I turn the key fob and drive towards TOPS.
15 minutes later, I'm sitting in front of Jill listening to her talk about her horrible  tinder date. Jill has been my person since Freshman year of high school. Were I have long black hair and could pass for a child. Jill has curly brown hair, with a deep blue eyes anyone could get lost in, she's as tall as she is beautiful. Standing at 5'7, she has the epitome of a model body. Long legs and a tiny waist. Also another exotic dancer here at TOPS. Tonight she is dancing to Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leopard. She's currently wearing a pair of daisy dukes and a white bathing suit top that honestly doesn't cover too much. But I guess that's the point, huh. Hearing the beginning of her cue, she abruptly stops talking about Logan and his flaccid dick and kisses my cheeks and saunters on stage. Exiting the locker room, I make my way to the bar and order a vodka cranberry. Not bothering asking for my ID, our bartender slides the glass to me. Frank, know sim not old enough but no one cares here. As long as it's not the public he will serve me. Watching Jill shake her ass in some middle aged man's face, I turn back to my glass. Feeling a presence next to me, I look up to a mammoth of a man. Holy hell. My mouth slacks as I study him.  If Jason Mamoa had a baby with Cara Devlgine. This would be their outcome. Standing at easily, 6 feet 5 inches, arms built to match the size of my head, hair as bronze as copper with the sides shaved down and a little longer on top. He is the definition of sex. Closing my mouth, I look back down to my drink and throw the rest of it back.
"Hello" a gravely voice says. My breathe stills. Looking up to the gorgeous man, I realize he's looking down at me. Like he knows what's going on through my head, he give a little smirk. His lips as well, edible, his lower lip a little more fuller than the top. His eyes, dark brown, they almost look black, sparkle as he does a pursuit of me, like I am to him. Realizing I havent said anything back. I clear my throat which is insanely dry.
"Hello" I managed to get out.