Deviation (Deviate Series) (9 page)

It’s the sa
me routine for the next few weeks: shower, work, talking to Angel about our days, shower, and then bed. Today is Saturday so I have the day off. I work Sunday through Thursday since they are the busiest days. I love the crew, they’re the same guys I worked with on the first day.

Having Fridays off made me realize
that I don’t know where Angel works. I’ve been living here for almost a month and I have no clue what he does. He’s always off work when I am, and when I’m at work I have no clue where he goes. I mean he has to work right? He has an expensive car, a house that’s beyond amazing, and spends money like it’s nothing. The fridge is always stocked, he bought all those clothes, and not to mention decorated my room. How is it possible that he can afford all of that without a job?

I know he’s not into doing drugs. He said that he used to be like me, not that he was like me. But that doesn’t stop the apprehension from creeping
up my skin, making my hairs stand on edge. I need to figure out what he does before I end up going to jail for being an accessory.

“Hey Angel,” I call.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll be out in a minute,” he calls back.

I put on my jeans and throw on my signature tank with a hoodie over.
I make my way to the couch, planning all the questions I’m going to ask him. I get so lost in thought that I jump when he pokes me.

“Seriously, you have to stop spacing out
, Nevaeh. Someone could get the upper hand on you,” he chuckles.

I glare at him and his face
becomes serious.

“So Mr. Mysterious, I just realized I have no
idea where you work or when you work. It’s like your home when I leave and when I get back. So what’s your story Angel, where do you work?” I pin him with a ‘don’t bullshit me’ look.

“Well I don’t really have to work
,” he shrugs.

“Wait, what? How is that an answer? I mean why not?” I’m so confused by his answer that I don’t make sense
, even to myself.

“Well you know how I told you I’m like you, a recovering addict?”

I nod.

“My father owned some oil wells her
e in Texas and when he passed this year, the ownership of the wells went to me.”

My mouth drops open and I’m sure my eyes are as big as
one of those anime type characters, because he laughs.

“So let me get this straight. Your dad owns a few oil wells, which are now yours, so working isn’t necessary for you?”

“Well I don’t have to work; I mean I do because there are some things that need my signature. Those few oil mills I own are part of a company that I’m also the co-owner of,” he looks uncomfortable.

“So you own part of an oil digging company
, too? Wow, way to make me feel insignificant,” I force a laugh.

“The beauty of an only child and an inheritance
...”

“Alright
, that’s extremely impressive.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. I’m still me no matter how I make money
, Nevaeh, so get that look off your face,” he looks away.

I do what he asks and say one word
, “Cool.”

The rest of the day we lounge around and eat snacks while watching movies.
I somehow end up with my head in his lap. He’s running his fingers through my long hair, making me sleepy.

I shiver and snuggle in closer to the warmth, when an arm tightens around me. My body goes rigid and my eyes fly open
I notice I’m lying on Angel’s chest and that his eyes are now open in response to my going rigid, looking for danger. When he realizes it was just me reacting to our closeness, he starts rubbing circles on my back, and places a kiss on the top of my shoulder. That does the trick. My body begins relaxing and I drift off again as he slowly draws patterns on my back.

I forget that I have
issues; I forget everything but this moment right now. I let the feeling of being in Angels arms, lying on his chest, fill me up and chase away all the self -doubt. I can slowly feel the happiness swirling inside me. If I can feel like this every day, then that’s what I want that. I need that. That’s when the decision is made, Not that there was any other choice, but I just had to admit it to myself.

“Okay,” I tell him.

“Okay what, babe?” his voice is husky, sleepy.

I lift my head up to look down at him, “Us. I’m ready for us. I don’t need to figure out who I am, because when I’m with you, I’m me. If it means I get to feel this way all the time, then that’s what I want. I want you”

I don’t shy away like I normally would, I stand, well, lay my ground. I wait to see what he’s going to say. But when a few minutes go by and he hasn’t said anything, I get worried. I start shutting down, preparing myself for the worst. The inner voices start ricocheting through the recesses of my mind, I the guys; voices, the guys from the past, the guys that I’ve blocked out for so long.
See you’re not good enough. He doesn’t really want YOU; he just wants what’s inside those tight jeans.
I look away and roll off of him. This was so not what I was expecting when he just said he would be there for me, that he wanted me. Maybe I read too much into it? Maybe he just meant as friends. I start walking towards the kitchen to grab some water, to hide, and escape from yet another embarrassing moment.

Just as I reach the doorway for the kitchen, arms circle my waist, and a chin is placed on my right shoulder. I stop dead in m
y tracks in the doorway. This feels different, but the same. The arms feel familiar but not the ones I want. Not the ones I need. These are the arms of someone I never wanted to see again. Arms that should be nowhere near me.

“If you know what’s good for you love
, you won’t say anything. You won’t make a sound. If you do, he’ll pay for it.” His voice isn’t more than a whisper but I can hear it because he talks right into my ear.

The smell of dirt and alcohol wafts off him when he
moves; his breath is rancid and triggers my gag reflex. But I do as I’m told. I don’t make a sound, I allow him to lead me to the back door, down the steps, to the side of the house and out the gate door.

All I keep thinking is that I hope Angel is ok
ay. I hope he doesn’t try to be a hero again, I hope he lets me go. I don’t want to think what he can do to Angel, what he could be doing to him right now. It was part of his appeal when I first met him, that bad boy persona, with friends who would do whatever he asked. I realize in this moment that I never loved him, I was afraid of him. It was fear that kept me rooted in place.

We get into a car that I’ve never seen before, as the other person walks out the side gate, gets in the driver’s side and we take off. I look back at the beautiful house, the beautiful life I was given the chance to live, and the home where my heart is. A tear slides down my face as I say a silent goodbye and hope that he’s ok
ay.

“I don’t know why you thought you could get away from me
, love. I made sure no one would give you anything so you would have to come back to me. Instead I hear you’re running around with him, living with him, sleeping with him,” he seethes.

I do my best to ignore him, to not even look at him, and then it happens. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes throughout the car. My face heats where his hand
print is sure to be imprinted in my flesh. Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I blink them away and retreat into myself. What I really want to do is use the cast to hit him, but that won’t do anything. I can hear an annoying buzz in the back of my head, but I don’t know what he’s saying. All my focus is on the first time Angel kissed me, the way his blues eyes shine, the way his smile lights the entire room, and the way his face lights up when I’m around him. I focus on the happiness that was growing inside of me. The way the two pieces of me were beginning to meld together and how I was beginning to feel whole. I focus on Whisper’s depot district and how the buildings are so old and magnificent. The way the car bounces driving over the bricks. The way the sun illuminated everything beautifully in the backyard at home. I focus on how each sunrise was the promise of a new day, a new me, and a new us.

I swallow hard and then I’m being pulled from the car. Emptiness. The place that I once called home is nothing now. It’s a nightmare
, in a never ending loop cycle. It’s everything I despise now, and yet—it’s a wakeup call. I know exactly what’s going to happen if I walk through that door and I know what he thinks will happen, too. I look over at Timo and his thug, here with the sole promise of scoring some sort of narcotic in exchange for his help, and I start trying to come up with a plan. A way of getting away before it’s too late. I won’t be that girl that needs to be saved, again. I’m going to be a force, a force that won’t lie down and be used and abused.

I can hear them talking about how Angel put up a fight
, but the thug say he was able to land a solid punch leaving Angel on the floor long enough for him to escape. That’s when a tear slips out. I start looking around trying to figure out how I can run. I’m good at this. Running. If only I had my shoes on I could just take off in the field. The one good thing about growing up in the country in the south is crop fields. The land owner planted his crop early this summer. It’s the end of July and it’s about ready to be harvested. I can see the cotton picker a little ways off working its way through that patch of cotton. If I can make it there I can at least hide and pray that he won’t come after me.

Before I give myself any
solid reason to stay, like having no shoes on, I take off running as fast as I can. I stumble as the cotton stalks slap me in the face, catch on my clothes, and sting my feet. I hear them behind me, gaining on me, and I picture Angel’s face. I can feel adrenaline start to course through my body, into my muscles, tightening them, urging me to move faster and faster. I can hear them behind me but nowhere near as close as they once were.

I can’t see where I’m going, that’s one bad thing about these fields. I hope I’m going in a straight line and not in a circle. Then I see it
; the top of the green cotton picker comes into view and I can hear the sound of it chopping down stalk after stalk of cotton. I momentarily pause because I have no idea where to go from here.  I don’t want to cause the farmer any trouble and Timo and his help will do exactly that. Cause trouble. So I keep running. I stay within the stalks that haven’t been cut but that I can easily see through. I see them talking to the farmer, asking him if he saw where I went. I continue to go a little deeper into the crops so I stay hidden when I hear the sound of passing cars. Staying close to the sound of traffic, I start feeling optimistic. I did it. I got away, again.

You know that saying ‘don’t count your chickens
before they hatch’? There’s so much truth in that statement, because as I’m thinking I’m free again my face meets the dirt and everything goes black.

I try to move and can’t. I can taste rust on my tongue so I know I was bleeding from either my nose or my lip. My shirt is sticky and wet. My arms are rubbing against the wood floor, so I know my hoodie was removed. I don’t feel the scratchiness of the floor on my legs so my jeans
must still be intact and on.

I try to see where
I am, even though I know I’m in the godforsaken shack, but my head swims and black spots start dancing across my vision. Awesome. I lay my head back down and try to move my wrist when the rope slices into my skin.   I bite my tongue to suppress my cry. I can’t believe I’m tied up. Actually I can believe it. Timo has always been an ass but I never imagined him taking it this far.

I hear movement
at my back and I try and scoot out of the way when more pain sears its way through my body.

“You might as well stop trying to get free
, Nevaeh. You’re mine. Don’t you understand that, baby?” He slurs.

Great I’m dealing with a
drunken Timo, his short temper has just become ten times shorter. I remain still, no reason to provoke the beast, right?

“I’ll cut you lose if you promise not to run again. It’s already dark so you won’t get far. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t
find you. It’s me or nobody, love,” he threatens.

“Go to hell
, Timo! If this is the scenario where you keep threatening me, telling me if you can’t have me no one can, that’s just fine. Be done with it already. Shoot me, make me overdose, I don’t give two shits how you kill me, but I will never and I mean NEVER be with you again,” I scream at him.

The id
iot laughs at me and then kicks me in the back. I’m pretty sure a couple more of those will cause internal bleeding and if I’m lucky immediate death. Then Angel won’t have to worry about me. I can watch over him with my parents and sister.

“Is that all you have
, Timo? Come on, I know you can do more damage than that. You want to know all the details of me and him?” I goad him, which earns me another kick. I smile, “That’s right,
baby,
he ran his hands all over me, kissed every inch of my skin, and left me begging for more. He satisfied me in a way your ass never could, and he didn’t leave me wanting. He took care of me first. And god, can that boy move inside me.”

I hear something crack and then I feel a trickle start at the back of my head. The sound of water dripping on the floor is so loud at first and then starts dulling. My eyes are slowly shutting. It’s not water hitting the floor, its blood. My blood. It’s
soaking my hair and I know if I could see the way I look my hair would be blood red. Literally.

I know head wounds bleed heav
ier than any other wound, so it must not be fatal or Timo would be freaking out. I open one eye to see him at the table snorting something. Well, he’s not freaked out enough to stop doing that. I try to see if I can loosen the ropes on my hands without drawing his attention. They cut deeper, but slowly loosen with each twist, tug, and pull. I’m out of energy. Maybe the cut is worse than I thought. I see Timo getting ready to raise his head so I stop moving, hold my breath, and close my eyes to slits. He looks up at me, his face goes white, and he starts freaking out.

He runs to the room and I can hear draws opening then slamming. His footsteps po
und the floor, making enough noise that I can let out a breath and take another. He grabs a needle off the table and stabs his arm. His face relaxes for a moment, he looks at me one last time, and then he’s out the door.

I can still feel blood flowing out of me and I
know I need to get free before I’m unable to move anymore. I’m pulling on the ropes and finally loosen one enough so I can pull my hand free. At least I’ll only have rope burns on one hand. I quickly work the knot on my cast and when it’s free I start working on my legs. I stand up and wobble to the side. My shirt is covered in blood. The floor has a massive puddle and my hair is crimson.

I manage to stumble to the door and
attempt to open it when Timo comes flying through it. I land on my ass to the right of the door. I mumble ouch and pass out. I come to when I hear sirens but I can’t see anything. I feel arms around me and I start freaking out. I’m trying to get away from the person I can’t see until I hear the most beautiful voice. A voice I didn’t think I was ever going to hear again.

Its melody soothes me and I stop fighting. I’m being placed onto a hard surface but my eyes won’t work. I hear beeping, talking
, and my Angel’s voice. I manage to open my eyes and find him talking to an officer. He glances over at me and our eyes lock. I smile as he walks over to me.

“Nevaeh
, I’m so sorry,” he has tears in his eyes and he’s choking up.

I clear my throat but I’m
unable to speak above a whisper so he puts his ear to my mouth. I only have energy to say a few things before I go so I make it count. “I love you, Angel.” The beeping stops and those electric blue eyes go wide as I slip away.

I feel like I’m floating.

Drifting.

No care. No worries. Just free.

That’s when I see them. My parents and my little sister, but they don’t look happy, they look sad.

“
It’s not time for you to join us princess,”
my dad says.

“
We love you, Nevaeh,”
they say.

Then
I feel my body lift off the table while air is being pumped into my mouth. It feels like the time I stuck my finger in a light socket. I can feel all the tingles spreading through my body and all my hair sticking out straight. I cough and try to pull the bag off my mouth, when my hand is smacked away.

“Don’t you dare
, beautiful. You let them pump you with oxygen and whatever else they have to. You’re not leaving me until I say so, you hear me?” His voice is shaky, uncertain.

I just nod my head and I feel him kiss my knuckles. The drive to the hospital
takes forever and the EMTs talk to me constantly but I just want to shut my eyes and rest. If they remain closed longer than a blink, either Angel or the EMT is shaking me awake. When we get to the ER I’m placed in a room right away and I’m stuck with needles. Then nothing.