Autum's Lost (A letting go series) (25 page)

He laughs so freaking hard you’d almost believe I was a standup comic. But before I know what’s going on, the motherfucker has handcuffs out, has me flipped over and cuffed. My hands and feet are cuffed to all four bedposts so that I am lying here spread eagle on my stomach. Now my face is buried into this piece of shit bed, in this piece of shit motel that Stevie sends all us girls to.  The sheets are hard and scratch my naked body. I’m pretty sure people have
actually been murdered on these sheets. Though I suppose it’s nothing I haven’t seen before in my 18 short years.

“You MOTHERFUCKER!!!” I screech out

“Funny you should be calling me Shitdick, since that’s exactly what I’m gonna be here very soon”, he laughs.

For the first time in a long time I feel genuine fear. I don’t know when the last time was. Maybe when I was ten and that piece of shit first came into my room. I’m really not sure. Fear is something I am unfamiliar with these days. I’ve become so desensitized to most things it seems. Apprehension? I feel that often. Fear? No.

Before I can blink he’s ramming his dick into my ass. I can hear my skin tear and I cry out at the tremendous pain. I can’t help it. I can’t hold my screams and sobs in. I know it does no good. Nobody cares in this place. Screams are the norm.
Still
. I never cry out. I can’t let them know how much they have truly broken me; turning me into the disgusting monster that I’ve become. I feel my life has taken a drastic, downward spiral and I’ll never find my way out. This is what has become of me. I no longer have any control over my life and the way it turns out. I am at the mercy of everyone around me. I knew the day would come when I had nothing left; but still, I fought it.

My sobs continue as I feel him ram into me repeatedly. I can feel the blood trailing down from my buttock to my upper thighs and down to be added to the millions of other blood stains on this mattress. Maybe if I just lay here it will be over faster? Should I just take it without complaint like Daisy always says I should?

“Girl, just let it happen. It gets much easier when you do”, she laughs in her southern drawl. Would that really be better?

NO! Fight Harper! Think of something!

It hurts so badly. How am I supposed to think around this kind of pain?

After a few moments of being assaulted, I come up with a plan. I grit my teeth and say in my most conversational voice, “Is this really all you’ve got? Why don’t you just go down to the quickie mart and get me some salami. I’m sure it’d be better than your old shriveled up dick, you piece of shit. You probably can’t get it up unless you’re forcing someone, right? Probably can’t even get your wife to spread for you, can
ya? She go looking for a better cock, did she? Is that why you’ve got to pay someone to lay under your flailing, fat ass?”

He’s getting really pissed now. He’s thrusting into me more impatiently.
God, it hurts.
Okay, not a great plan, but it is so hard to think around this pain. I can feel the blood dripping off my leg.
How is it possible to still be bleeding
? I bite back my whimper and it suddenly occurs to me
;
fight harder and maybe he’ll just end it for you
.
My life is never going to be any different than this. And really, what kind of life is this anyway? I shut down every emotion I possess, like I’ve forced myself to do so many times before, and allow my brain and body to become numb with the pain.

“Nothing to say, huh
Shitdick? I must’ve hit a nerve, eh?”

“Shut up, bitch!” He finally responds.

“Yep. Definitely hit a nerve. It must be horrible to be such a terrible fuck that your own wife goes out looking for better dick. I can’t say that I blame her, I suppose. This is the worst fuck,
ever
”, I goad him.

In a flash he grabs my jaw and yanks my head back so that I am facing him as he leans over from behind me. He lowers his voice to an eerie quiet, which I know doesn’t bode well for me. My heart rate picks up, my stomach tightens and my skin begins to crawl with the fear raging inside of me. “I really don’t give a shit if you enjoy yourself or what you think of my huge throbbing cock ramming into your tore up ass, you stupid cunt. I’m the one getting off.”

“I’m glad blood and shit turn you on, you sick fuck!” I screech. His grip on my jaw has loosened so that I can move my mouth down a bit; I open my mouth and bite down hard between his thumb and forefinger. I taste the metallic of his blood as it enters my mouth. I gather it together in my mouth then spit it right into his repulsive face.

“FUCKING BITCH!” he bellows and rears back.

The last thing I see is his fist come at my face.

The world goes black.

I jolt awake and sit up panting in my bed. I look over and see my beautiful blue Great Dane, Bane, staring at me with his chocolate brown eyes. I had adopted him about two years ago, when he was just a puppy that had been rescued from a puppy mill. He lets out a little whimper.

“It’s okay Bane. Mommy just had a bad dream.”

Bane scoots closer to me and lays his massive head on my thigh. I lay back against the head board and stroke his head to calm my nerves. Why do I have to relive all of this shit? Wasn’t once enough? I’ve got to do it over and over again most nights? I look over at my alarm clock: 5:36 am.

Hello, Monday.

Well I might as well get up. I hop out of bed and put on my shorts, running bra and shoes, grab Bane’s leash and we head out for our morning run. 

***

I get home from my run, shower and change my clothes to head over to my bar. I lived a pretty wild life for a while after Nikko found me. Nikko Scott likes to call himself my security – but I know he just really likes spending time with me. Mostly because he has no family left. He’s 6’5”, tan skin, broad shoulders and built like a tank. He’s a rather handsome guy. Strong jaw, clean shaven, beautiful full lips, sharp hazel eyes framed by thick lashes. His hair is jet black and cut short, but not so short that you couldn’t run your fingers through it. Nikko found me after a particularly bad night with Stevie. I had been beaten and was certain I was going to die. I think Stevie was about to kill me, and out of nowhere –
poof-
there’s Nikko. I was pretty out of it, but I’m certain there’s a reason I never heard another word from Stevie, and that is all thanks to Nikko.

Nikko’s father was a good friend of my biological parents. My parents were murdered when I was three. I had never known what had happened to them until Nikko found me. No one in the homes told me when I was growing up. According to Nikko, my father was a major tycoon in the oil business in Texas. One night when my mother and he were on their way home from the theatre they were mugged and shot. The murderer was later apprehended and currently resides in prison. He was wanted for multiple robbery/homicides in the area. Harold and Kathryn Brown were my parents’ names. I had changed my name when I was twenty to Reagan; I didn’t want to be found. I had carried my first foster family’s surname, Hill, prior to that.

The night my parents were murdered my babysitter had apparently been doing drugs while watching me, because when the cops came to inform her of my parents passing, (and take me to human services) she had ‘allegedly’ taken me-probably paranoid they were after her. She eventually realized she could not care for a small child and dropped me off at the local hospital. I was then put into foster care where I was named Harper Hill. They knew my first name because my babysitter must have had some kind of conscious and left a note with my name on it. She was never found, that I knew of.

Anyway
. So Nikko found me and told me the story of how he promised his father that he would find me. His father had been looking for me for 14 years prior to his death and made Nikko promise to find me, give me my inheritance and make sure I was safe and taken care of. Nikko found me two years after his father’s death, when I was 19. With the state he found me in, the fact that he had no family (his mother had died a few years before his father and he had no grandparents or siblings) to take care of or visit, Nikko has stayed by my side to ‘protect’ me. I tell him repeatedly that I am fine now, but he worries. So I let him hang around and help me out. Also, let’s face it: he’s not hard on the eyes either; even though he is ten years my senior and more of a father than I’ve ever known. And, though I’ll never admit it, it does make me feel safe to have him around.

It’s been ten years since Nikko found me and I feel that I finally have my life together. I spent the first couple years after my release from my old life living it up and partying the night away until I felt more alone than ever. Nikko helped me to straighten out and figure out what I wanted to do with myself. I had been living in Las Vegas since I was ten and decided I needed a change of pace and scenery. So we moved to a town called Paradise, in Northern California on the coast. It’s a peaceful town with a population of only five hundred thousand. It’s big enough to not have to know everybody, but with a small town feel.

I opened a bar down on 8
th
Avenue which is the heart of the town- and the busiest- and named it
Ricominciare.
Which is Italian for
Begin Again
; I found it fitting. I have a staff of eight incredible individuals who have an amazing work ethic. Nikko happens to have his MBA, so he helps me a lot as well with the finance side of things.

After I change my clothes, I stand in the kitchen against the counter, drinking my coffee. My kitchen looks over into the living room, where Bane has taken over my massive couch. He lays on his back with his head lolled to the side and his tongue hanging out.
He’s so fucking cute
. I hear a key turn in the lock of my front door, then hear someone walking down the long hall that opens to my living room. Nikko comes around the corner and heads for the coffee pot. He fills his travel mug, looks at me and says, “You ready girl?”

“Yep.” I grab my keys and purse after rinsing out my coffee mug. “C’mon Bane, let’s go to work.” He huffs and saunters off the couch and follows us out the door.

Chapter 2

We hop into Nikko’s Escalade and make our way over to 8
th
Avenue. Bane lounges in the backseat. I occasionally like to take Bane with me to work when I know it’s gonna be a slow day. I’m only planning on being at the bar until four, so it shouldn’t be too crazy for him. When it does get busy, I usually lock him up in my office in the back.

We pull up to the front my bar shortly before nine and hop out. Monday’s are slow so we usually park in the front; on busy days we park in the back lot. I look up at my baby. Pale brown stones cover the outside while the surrounding buildings are all red brick. I love that the contrast makes my place stand out and makes people take pause. There is a large burgundy overhang above the door with
Ricominciare
scrawled across it. I unlock and open the massive deep, cherry oak doors and come to the second set of glass doors that lead into my place. On the glass I had one of my favorite quotes etched on it:

Today forget your past, forgive yourself and begin again.

-Unknown

Beneath that is written:

And if you can’t… drink up.

What can I say, bars can’t be that serious. I step through and survey the space as I always do. Stones of all shapes and colors cover the walls. They are all so mismatched that it works together beautifully. I covered this place with pictures I have taken myself as well. Some from Paris, London, Belfast, Dublin, Rome, Venice, Egypt, Nigeria, Odisha in India, Australia, Japan and other places I have travelled. One of the first things I did after I cleaned up my act, before moving to Paradise, was travel. I wanted to go every place imaginable. Nikko and I spent two years travelling the world. It was glorious; best time of my life to
seeing how other cultures functioned. Every year we still take a two week vacation somewhere.

Nikko heads back to the office to look over the paperwork and I head over to the bar to get everything set up. The bar itself is a masterpiece. It’s twenty feet long and is made of mostly turquoise stones with some gray spattered throughout it. The stones are all in their in their raw form, not polished; the counter is polished black granite. It just really pulls your eye to the bar.
             

Nikko and I spend the next couple of hours getting everything ready. Setting tables, signing in the truck shipments, doing paperwork and cleaning up. About half an hour before noon-when we open- my bartender,
Kole walks in.

“Hey boss lady. Hey Nikko.” We both reply in kind and
Kole hops up onto the bar counter. “So, are you getting everything ready for the
Taste of Paradise
in a few weeks?”

Taste of Paradise
is the town’s way to attract tourists. Every year on the first weekend in June- just a little under three weeks away- all the small businesses in town gather outside on the sidewalks and streets of downtown here on 8
th
Avenue and give samples out and sell products to entice people into their business. It’s a lot of fun and you get to meet some great people that come from all over the country, because it’s a pretty popular tourist attraction.