Desired

I kiss Riley, who lies next to me, out of habit.
I pick myself up, slipping my thread-worn robe on, but not tying it closed.

"Well that was interesting"
Riley states yanking on his jeans.

"Why?"
I asking, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.
I pull a hair tie from my wrist and tug my hair into a loose bun.

"You may not be my first girl, but you are the first to have a thing for attics"
He laughs, looking around at the dusty, low-ceilinged room.

"I don't have a thing for attics, I've just never been with a man in one"
I chuckle turning to him, finally tying the robe shut.

"How many places exactly have you been with a man? Wait, no, a better question is how many have you been with?"

I roll my eyes, walking towards the exit in the floor.
"None of your business"

"Hey, I told you mine, and as long as my secret is safe, so is yours"

I climb down the latter there, with him following.
"It's not important"

"Maybe not, but it's still interesting"
He trails behind me as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

"3, not including you"
I answer when we reach the kitchen.
Going to the fridge, my fingers wrap around the handle, jerking the door open.

"That's not bad, all of them from the old town?"

"Sorta"
I shrug, pulling out two bottles of ice tea, tossing him one.
He catches it easily, mumbling a 'thank you' and unscrewing the cap.

"Sorta how?"
He asks taking a drink.

"Sorta like that's all I'm telling you, you should get lost anyway"
My tone is rude, but his questions, though innocent enough to him, feel like a heavy pressure to go into my wretched past.

He rolls his eyes and jogs upstairs to get the rest of his clothing.
I chew on my lip and lean up against the fridge.

The world around me has disappeared, because it doesn't matter, what matter's, is what's happening to me now.
I wish many things, I wish Jackson never took me here to get waisted and drugged up and leave me on my own, I wish I wasn't the only clean and sober person in the house, I wish I could be stronger then my captor.

If he never took me, never got waisted and drugged up, he wouldn't have left me on my own.
If there were others clean and sober, they could hear me and bother to help.
If I was stronger the my captor, my problems would be solved, because I could simply get away and run.

"Why is such a young girl in a place like this? You don't seem to be into this scene"
I turn my head, the vodka on his breath is repulsive, vomitous.
"Why don't you feel like talking little girl?"
He asks, tauntingly.

"Why do you feel like talking?"
I reply, closing my eyes.
If this man is going to hurt me, why isn't he already doing so?

"I want to get to know you"

"Let me go"
My words are flat, but loud and direct.
He doesn't listen to me, just takes hold of my arms, yanking me towards a staircase.

"Help! Anyone! Help!"
I scream, kicking wildly in the air.
A few people turn their heads, none have the ability to understand the scene in front of them.

*X*

"Hey sweetie"
My mother says walking in the door with my father right behind her.
I wave, barely glancing at her from my spot on the couch, the TV set playing reruns of 'Bonanza'.
Little Joe has fallen madly in love with a girl who gets pitch forked and dies. Like always. They never let the chicks live.
Groaning, I turn off the TV and stand up, cracking my back.

"Ruby?"

"Hmm?"
I look over at my mother who stands in the doorway to the kitchen, a strange, almost worried look on her face.

"I know we've been working a lot lately, and leaving you at home alone, neglecting you it seems. How would you like to go out to dinner tonight? Just a change of pace for you, to get out of the house and do something"
She smiles faintly, hopefully.

"Sure mom, that sounds nice"
I smile back, running a hand through my hair.

"Great"
She claps her hands together.
"Why don't you go get ready, and think of what restaurant you'd like going to"

I give her two thumbs up and a half nod before making my way upstairs.

*X*

A dark blue pencil skirt wraps around my hips to a T.
I also don a black, button up blouse, a wide, black belt. A few silver braclets and a black choaker completes the look.

"Ruby?"
I look up from my mirror where I'm applying makeup, my mother stands in the doorway.
"Have you decided on a place?"

"Oh that little creole place on 5th sounds good"
I answer, returning to my makeup. My brush collects the deep brown shadow on my neutral palette, I begin to deepening my hallows.

"Well, we'll be leaving in about 10 minutes"
With that she's gone.

After application of three more shades of shadow, a double cat eye, mascara and some nude lipstick, I feel content with my appearance.

Slipping into my black heels and grabbing my black clutch, I make my way downstairs.

*X*

The restaurant is simple, but lively, a buzz with costumers laughing and chatting.
Our waitress seats us at a table near the back, it's slightly quieter, but not much.

My parents make small talk while I look over the menu, I at once decide what I want and toss it down, already becoming saddled with boredom.
Bouncing my leg restlessly, I look around, desperate for something interesting to see.

But, I take back that wish, the minute two certain people walk through the doors.

Swallowing hard, I look around for a place I can escape or hide.

"Here's your table"

Damn that waitress.
I turn my entire body away from them, pretending to be deeply immersed in my cell phone, but I'm really just scrolling down my contacts and pressing random buttons.

Don't worry, everything will turn out fine.
Riley can't be that stupid to acknowledge me here, in front my parents and his cousin, and a woman who I guess is his aunt.

"Have you decided?"
Questions the perky waitress, smiling brightly.
I look up at her briefly, muttering my order quickly, I can feel the tension of eyes against my back.

I jump, startled, as the phone in my hand buzzes, 'Riley James' flashes on the screen.

'Don't worry, I won't blow our cover, relax sweetheart'

Steadily, I turn back, sitting normally in my seat, feigning a usual, calm demeanor.

'Okay, good, and don't call my sweetheart, I'm not your sweetheart'

'Whatever you say, baby'

I clench my teeth and lean back into my chair.

'Stop with the pet names Riley, I'm not your sweetheart, your baby, your anything'

I deposit my phone onto the table and stand up, straightening my skirt.
"If you excuse me, I need to use the powder room"

My heels click harshly against the tile of the bathroom floor as I enter, the sounds of the restaurant instantly muffling.

Going over to the sinks, I grab the edge of the counter, closing my eyes.
Reopening them, I look into the mirror hanging largely in front of me.

"Sweetheart, you need to calm down"
He says opening a door near the top of the stair case and throwing me into the blackness.
I hit the wooden floor hard, groaning.
The door slams shut, blocking out any light and muting the music, but I can feel it pulsing up through the floorboards, from below.

I hear footsteps, then coarse hands on my waist and arm pull me up.

"Help!"
I scream, my voice cracking.

"Baby, you shouldn't do that"

My body crashes into the wall before I have time to register the pain exploding on the side of my face.
He grabs hem of my t-shirt, yanking me back towards him.
Fingers encircle my throat.

"See what happens baby? Now shut the fuck up if you want to live"

My mother taught me to never stop screaming for help, no matter if they threaten to kill you, because they are likely to kill you anyway even if you don't.
"No! Somebody, Help! Please! Help me!"

He pushes me down onto the the floor, one knee pressing down on my chest.
I feel my jeans being undone.

I rake my fingers through my hair, nails digging into my scalp, jaw tensing.

"Your such a pathetic, low, creature"
I say to my reflection before existing the bathroom swiftly, letting the door bang against it's frame behind me.

Busy with my own thoughts, not bothering to notice my surroundings, I find myself colliding with a figure coming out of the the bathroom opposite of the women's.

"Oh, I'm sorry"
They apologize, my head snaps up to see none other than Asher.

"No, it's my f-fault"
I stutter, my mind still not clear from the memories.
"I wasn't paying attention"

"Well, neither was I, guess we're both at fault"
He smiles, I try to smile in return, but fail in attempt.

I turn to make my way to my table, when he gently grabs my hand.
"Ruby?"

I stop, looking back him, eyes flickering to our enjoined hands uneasily.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"
He questions carefully, face contorting into one of concern.

Why does he care if I'm okay or not?

"Sure"
I force a twitch of smile to my lips, just wanting to leave.
I can see the disbelief in his eyes at my weak reply.

"Okay, well, hope you have a nice meal"
He gives my hand a squeeze before letting go.

"You too, Asher"

As I make my way back to my table, all I can focus on is the warmth where his hand use to be, and the emotion that was left behind.

It wasn't one of romance, it wasn't one of lust, it was one of comfort.

And something about that frightens me.