Pierced (Lucian & Lia #1)(3)
Sadly, Jim’s arrival made me long for the days when I just had my mother to fear. I was fifteen and, as Jim was constantly pointing out, well-developed for my age. It started with lingering, seemingly-innocent touches and quickly escalated. He started coming into my room at night.
He would twist my arm behind my back until I agreed to remove my top. He would sit or lay beside me, pinching my nipples painfully while masturbating. After a while, my breasts weren’t enough, and he wanted me completely naked. The first time, I fought him until he put a hand around my throat, cutting off my air supply until I blacked out. I woke to find one of his hands fondling my sex while he jacked-off. Each night he went further, taking more and more. I feared that soon he would no longer be content to just touch me. I knew without a doubt that my mother was aware of what was happening; I tried to talk to her more than once, and she would either walk away or backhand me until I shut up.
After having to endure his touch at every available opportunity, I heard him say something that saved me from certain rape. He was ranting to my mother about how she had better not gain any more weight because he hated heavy women. That night, I started eating everything I could hold without puking, and by the end of the month, I was fifteen pounds heavier. This continued until I gained almost fifty pounds. It was obvious my size was a complete turn-off to Jim. He stopped touching me and instead insulted me at every turn, but I didn’t care if it meant he no longer snuck into my bedroom at night.
I had no real friends in school, and my size made me the target of constant taunting. The upside of being a social outcast was I had a lot of time to study and graduated from high school at the top of my class. Even having no idea how I would afford it, I applied to every local college, desperate to escape the Hell I was living in. The day I received an acceptance letter from St. Claire’s was also the day my mother kicked me out. I should have been brave enough to leave before then; she would have never looked for me.
On my last night at home, I was in the laundry room ironing clothes when my mother stomped in, looking pissed at the world. Jim followed closely behind her. As they argued, I sat the iron down and tried to slink out the door without being noticed. When Jim suddenly yelled, “Fuck,” my spine stiffened and I looked over my shoulder to see him shaking his hand and pointing to the iron. “Look what the f*ck you did, you fat ass! You left the iron sitting right in the middle of the floor and caused me to burn my hand. I bet you did it on purpose, you conniving bitch!”
I closed my eyes, feeling tears prickle behind the lids. “I…I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Jim’s anger switched from my mother to me. I was terrified and started trying to back away from him.
“Where the f*ck you think you’re going?” As Jim advanced on me, my mother slid by and out the door, never looking back. I knew there would be no help from her. When had there ever been?
When Jim grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, he jerked so hard I felt the thin cotton tear. As I tried to hold the shirt together, he ripped it from my body; snapping my neck painfully. I crossed my arms over my bra, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry, you lying cow. You intentionally left that iron there, hoping I’d burn myself.” Spittle flew onto my face as he spat the words at me. When a cruel smile turned up the corners of his mouth, my blood ran cold. Oh, God, I knew that smile. My arms tightened around my breasts, trying to cover myself as I shook in fear. “Don’t you worry about me touching those big tits; you disgust me. What I’m gonna give you, girl, is a reminder of what happens when you f*ck with me. You want to burn me and think you can get away with it? It’s time you learned a lesson you’ll never forget.” He turned me away from him, keeping a strong arm around my waist before leaning over to pick something up. He jerked my long ponytail aside, making my scalp sting. Suddenly, my back between the shoulder blades was on fire. I gasped in agony, trying to pull away. The smell of something horrible stung my nose, and as the room started spinning, it hit me; he was burning me with the iron. As oblivion rose, I heard him whisper in my ear, “Cows are always branded so they know who they belong to, and you’ll always belong to me.” I never felt my body make contact with the floor, and when I woke later, my back was still on fire, and I was alone. The bastard had marked me, and the years would never remove his brand from my body or my mind.
I slept in the park the first night I was on my own, and it was the best night I could remember having; I figured the odds of me being attacked were less than they would have been at home. I used the few dollars I managed to take from my mother’s purse to buy Tylenol. Luckily, the store also had a water fountain, and I downed four of them, hoping I wasn’t overdosing. My back was still in agony from the iron. The next day, I applied for a waitress job, and the owner Debra took pity on me and hired me. She also agreed to let me make payments to her weekly on the old Honda she had for sale. Finally, I had somewhere to sleep until school started in the fall. Debra also let me have my meals for free; I suspected it was because she knew I was homeless but never asked. Debra mentioned casually on my second day of employment that the truck stop down the street had showers for the truckers. Her boyfriend Martin owned the place, and she got me a voucher to use their facilities whenever I needed to. Between the truck stop and the laundromat, I had somewhere to spend time other than my car.
I had carefully avoided looking at my back and tried to keep water off it in the shower; a month went by and it no longer stung. On my break one day, I used the restroom at work and finally got brave enough to raise my shirt and turn my back to the mirror. “Oh, my God,” someone whispered behind me. I jerked around to find Debra standing there with murder in her eyes and her hand over her mouth. I pulled my shirt down, cursing myself for not hearing the door open. Debra walked over, pulling me against her. “Who did that to you, Lia?”