Hope

by Tia Wylder

  “Jenny, honey! Come down, you must be ready for your recital by now,” Deborah called abruptly, considering Jasmine with a sly grin. Jenny nearly stampeded down the stairs, her expression filled with grief.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Jasmine. If she said anything really mean…,” the girl trailed off, glancing at her mother with a pout.

  “Oh, Jenny. Don’t worry. Your mother has been nothing but kind,” she assured her charge, unsure if she was being truthful or otherwise. Deborah had every reason to want Jasmine gone, at least, if she wanted Mark back. Was it possible that the willowy woman had come up with the elaborate story to scare Jasmine off? It seemed over the top, and she couldn’t begin to fathom why this woman would go so far to hurt her.

  As the front door opened, the three females looked up in time to see Mark step through. Deborah’s smile upon seeing the man was borderline victorious, and as he took in the expressions of both women, it was clear that he knew something was amiss.

  “Deborah,” he began in a warning tone, taking a threatening step towards his ex-wife. The woman in question simply smirked, reaching down to rest her hand on their daughter’s shoulder.

  “Consider your mysterious lifestyle illuminated, darling,” she announced grandly, dragging Jenny out the door. The young girl stared back at her father and Jasmine, seeming to sense that something was amiss. The nanny managed a gentle smile despite the torment brewing inside of her.

  As soon as the door closed, Jasmine turned to Mark with a broken expression. His jaw clenched in a telling expression, and he reached out to Jasmine as if to soothe her.

  “Just tell me if it’s true,” Jasmine gritted out, tears spilling down her cheeks. Mark drew his hand back towards himself, looking torn. It would have been just as easy for him to formulate a lie. Jasmine would have likely accepted any excuse he managed to come up with. She almost wanted him to make an excuse, anything to abate the ache in her chest. However, the forlorn expression in his gaze spoke only of honestly. Brutal, uncensored honesty.

  “I’m assuming she told you that you’re not my first experience with the ‘My First Night’ auctions,” he tried to begin, and Jasmine balled her hands into fists at her sides.

  “She told me how you cheated on her! She told me how you use women to get what you want, and then you leave them. Am I just some possession for you? Am I just a toy?” She gave a brief pause, wrapping her fingers around the emerald necklace. “Is this nothing more than a glorified collar? Tell me the truth, Mark,” she screamed, her voice cracking. He shrunk away from her gaze, his cheeks flushed in agitation and embarrassment.

  “It’s not a collar, for God’s sake, Jasmine. I knew you would overreact like this. Therefore I didn’t want to tell you about my past. I knew you would be like this,” he grumbled. Jasmine laughed, a high pitched and awful sound. Her hand flew to her chest as if it were ready to spring forth, and she pointed a finger with her free hand at the man.

  “Overreact? Mark… I just found out that I’m the latest in a line of affairs for you. When were you planning to toss me back out on the streets? That is, before I found out about your past?” She demanded. Mark narrowed his eyes, taking a step towards her.

  “I never planned to throw you out! I still don’t intend to, unless you just want to leave,” he said with icy undertones.

  “Why should I stay? Tell me, why on Earth would I stay with a man who simply wants to own me?” Jasmine hissed, ripping the necklace off of herself. Mark flinched visibly, eyes focused on the emerald that shone in her palm. She gripped it a moment longer, seeming too attached to simply abandon it. However, with little more thought, she launched the thing at the man and stepped towards the door.

  “I just wanted you to be mine,” he said softly, and a strangled giggle drew itself from her throat.

  “I know,” she replied, opening the door and staring out into the sunny day beyond. It felt unacceptably cheery out, the weather too pleasant for her to be suffering such pain. For the briefest of moments, she lingered at the door and considered stepping back inside. Was being owned by a billionaire such a terrible thing? She could live in the lap of luxury until he inevitably got tired of her presence and kicked her out. Sixty thousand dollars would go a long way towards getting back on her feet. However, she couldn’t allow herself to let herself settle for such a life.

  She had no doubt in her heart. She had loved Mark, and she had been sure he loved her as well. Unfortunately, she had been proved wrong. What could such a man want with her, if not just a sex toy? What did she have to offer? Nothing, nothing except her body. As much as she’d have liked to, she couldn’t see herself in a future where she was with Mark, but there was no love in her heart. She couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t love her in turn.

  “Nothing I can say will change your mind, will it? You’re different, Jasmine. The others never could compare to you,” he said pleadingly, and she felt his hand rest hesitantly on her shoulder. She stiffened beneath his touch, resisting the desire to press back into it. Giving into his desires wouldn’t help her. She had to be strong, she had to move on… no matter how badly she wanted to stay with the man.

  “If you had been honest with me, maybe things would be different. If you hadn’t tricked me into falling head over heels, this story could have ended in another way. I can’t look past this, Mark. I can’t ignore the pain in my heart when I think about losing you to another woman,” she whispered. His grip on her shoulder tightened, but she shrugged him off almost violently.

  “There wouldn’t be another… there’s only you. Think about Jenny! Think about how badly she’ll miss you. What am I supposed to tell her when you’re gone?” Mark cried out with desperation lacing every word. She squeezed her eyes shut against the thought, not wanting to think about the coming evening. She didn’t want to think about how abandoned Jenny would feel, and she certainly didn’t want to consider how Mark would turn the tides in his favor.

  “You should have thought of that before snaring all of us in your twisted plan. I thought you were a kind man, Mark. I thought you were a good father. It’s bad enough that you used me, but to drag your daughter into it…,” she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder with venom in her gaze. “There’s something entirely wrong with you. Normal people don’t just use each other like this. You need to seek help,” she said icily. His eyes widened in disbelief, and she turned her back to walk away once more.

  “Normal people don’t sell their virginity on the internet either. Throwing stones in your little glass apartment, aren’t you?” He called out viciously. The words cut through Jasmine’s heart like a knife, but it only served to prove that her feelings were well founded. At the thought of losing his toy, he was getting angry. Filled with vitriol, and all too ready to put her down if he had no chance to snare her again.

  She wanted to stay and lob insults back and forth with him, but she belatedly realized that it was probably what the man wanted. If he couldn’t have her, he wanted her to suffer. That was the only clear answer.

  “Goodbye, Mark. I wish you the best,” she said calmly, ignoring the surging pain in her heart and the tears spilling freely down her cheeks. He shouted after her, but she ignored him. She had no car, no way home. All she knew was that she had to get out of this madhouse. Someway, somehow, she had to get her life on track again.

  With or without the sixty-thousand-dollar paycheck she’d been offered. Bitterness crept up on her, and she was tempted to turn the man into the auctioneers and see that he was barred from future auctions. However, a man with his wealth was much more valuable than the feelings of a few young women with little else to lose. It would only prolong the time she had to deal with him.

  She could hear him screaming after her, even still. He cried out that he loved her. She only wished that was true.

  Chapter Eight

  Jasmine found herself trudging the long path back to her apartment, a dull ache making itself known in her chest. The roads seemed almost unfamiliar after
the time she’d spent in the wealthier part of town. She felt used, manipulated, and more than anything, she felt as if her heart would never recover from the shattering. At the very least, she still had her apartment to return to. She wasn’t sure what she would do with herself if she had to live on the streets. She laughed bitterly at the thought, musing to herself that she was no better than a common street walker at the rate she was going.

  Selling her virginity online had been perhaps the most idiotic mistake she’d ever made. There she stood now, tainted by a man who had claimed to care about her. Now, not only was she out of the winning bid, she was out of first nights to sell. You’re only a virgin once, after all. She gritted her teeth angrily at the thought, fury replacing the misery that flooded through her veins. How many women had Mark pulled this with? While she knew she wasn’t the first, she was also rather sure that she would by no means be the last.

  Jolted from her thoughts by the sensation of her phone vibrating, she fumbled in her pockets for a moment before drawing her cell phone out. She swiped the screen, thinking very little about who would be texting her. Her eyes widened marginally when she saw it was from Mark, but then again, she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. She narrowed her eyes upon the text, tracing her eyes across each individual letter. As she might have expected, he was begging for her forgiveness.

  Jasmine rolled her eyes before promptly deleting the text. She wasn’t going to entertain the man any longer than was necessary. He’d stolen enough of her life in the short time they spent together. She intended to start anew, even if it meant doubling down on the job hunt. She would find some way to survive in this cruel world or die trying.

  “I’m not willing to lie down and let life trample over me anymore,” she muttered, cursing loudly when her phone vibrated again. It was bad enough that the man had lied and manipulated her, but now he refused to leave her alone. She just wanted to go to her apartment, take a shower in her tiny bathroom, and drop like a fly into her scratchy sheets. It may have sounded unappealing to anyone else, but to Jasmine, it sounded like nothing short of a paradise.

  Stepping up to the front of her apartment building, she felt a bit lighter as she made her way up the steps. She was confident she could find a way to repair her life, to emerge from the ashes akin to a phoenix. Nearly skipping to her door, she stopped short as she saw a pile of mail in front of the door.

  “Damn,” she swore, realizing that she’d forgotten to have her mail forwarded to Mark’s house. She hadn’t expected to be away so long when she initially left her apartment, and a sinking sensation crept up on her as she spotted a sign on the door. She read the note with trepidation, tears pooling in her eyes when she realized what a tragic mistake she had made. Her bills were past due, had been past due for some time when she temporarily moved in with Mark.

  The eviction notice taped to the door spoke volumes about the consequences of her actions, or more specifically, the lack thereof. She tried her key, choking out a sob when she found that the locks had been changed. She banged on the door angrily, primal fear and anger rising up like bile in the back of her throat. Where would she go? She couldn’t just go back to Mark with her tail between her legs. Foolish, maybe, that she wasn’t willing to lose every ounce of pride that she clung to. There were painfully few options, however. All she had was the money in her pocket and the clothes on her back.

  Reaching into her pocket, she counted out the meager amount of cash as she considered where she might be able to crash for the night. A hotel seemed out of the question, but she knew there was a seedy little place downtown that she may have enough to cover. At least, for one night. After that, she had no idea where she would go, or what she would do. She may end up on the streets after all, as miserable a fate as that seemed.

  Briefly, she considered scaling to the top of her apartment complex and flinging herself off the top. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden but intensely intrusive thought, leaning against the doorframe of her locked apartment. This wouldn’t be the end. As much as the odds were stacked against her, she wasn’t willing to give up. There had to be something in her future, something worth living for. Something that would make surviving all this torment worthwhile.

  Exhaling a sigh, Jasmine gathered her mail and cast a final lingering glance at her apartment. She was stricken by the thought that all of her worldly possessions were likely thrown in some landfill at that point, and tried to swallow another cry of anguish. She didn’t have much, but what she had was very valuable! Maybe not to anyone else, but she had worked hard for everything in her apartment. To lose everything over a scarce few days of passion felt like such an unforgivable.

  A vaguely familiar voice, one that she hadn’t heard since her teenage years, piped up in her head. It was the same voice that had tried to convince her to scale the building and take her own life. It was the very voice that had driven her to the point of selling her virginity online. It was the voice of desperation, raw and festering.

  “No. I have too much to live for,” she muttered under her breath, ignoring the taunting trills in her head. She did have a lot to live for. Even if she were to admit otherwise, Jasmine was not a quitter.

  The walk to the downtown motel where she would be spending her night was a long one, but she couldn’t justify the cost of a taxi to take her there. It would dip into what little cash she had, and she could scarcely afford a night at the sleazy establishment anyway.

  As if to mock her, thunder sounded in the distance. She turned her eyes skyward, jolting in fear when a flash of lightning cracked the sky and rain began to fall.

  “Son of a bitch,” she screamed towards the sky, her voice breaking. She threw her hands up as if asking what she had done to deserve such a fate. Her only response was a low rumble of thunder. Tensing her hands at her sides, she tried to ignore the rain as much as she was able. It was nearly impossible, considering just how hard it was pouring down. She was drenched in seconds, and her shoes made an annoying sound as they collided with the ground; sort of a mix between a sucking and slapping sound.

  The rain was cold, but the chill in her bones only steeled her resolve. If she could feel the cold, she was decidedly alive. If she could feel something, something tangible to tie her to the world, she could find the power to carry on. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as she walked for some miles she couldn’t define if she were asked. It could have been one mile, it could have been ten. All she knew was that time dragged on unbearably long.

  When the motel appeared in her line of vision, a sense of relief unlike any other washed over her. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but if she could stay the night at least, she could have some time to formulate some sort of plan. What plan she’d come up with was unclear now, but she knew she would come up with something. She had to. There were no other options. She’d already sold her body once. She decided at that moment that she wasn’t above doing it again, and again, and a thousand times over if that was what it took for her to survive. It wasn’t as if she could get a respectable job while roaming the streets, without even the spare cash to afford a dollar menu cheeseburger. After that night, it would likely be some time before she saw a shower stall again.

  Uncertainty creeped up on her again, but she steeled herself as she stepped through the front entrance of the sleazy motel. A young man, looking no older than herself, lingered behind the check in table. He looked bored out of his mind and covered in a thin layer of grease from his hair to his acne covered skin. What looked like a pathetic attempt at a goatee presented itself in scraggly little hairs springing from his chin, and he met her gaze as she realized she’d been staring a little too long. He smiled a near-toothless grin as she approached the counter. He swept a hand through his grease drenched hair, likely thinking he looked rather debonair.

  “I need a room tonight,” Jasmine said loudly and authoritatively, her voice demanding respect from the unseemly young man. He sat upright, looking vaguely taken aback by
the confidence she presented. She could only guess that she looked much like some sort of bedraggled and soaked animal. Still, she wasn’t about to let this man intimidate her. If she weren't going to allow Mark to dominate her life, she certainly wouldn’t allow this sleazeball the right. Then again, perhaps she was cruel. She couldn’t forsake the opposite sex altogether, just because she’d had her heart broken. Mark had been deceiving, but at least this young man was earnest about what he wanted. She would still decline his offer, but all the same, maybe he would be kind.

  “You can always bunk with me, sweetheart,” he rasped out, flicking his tongue out to moisten his lips. She fought not to let her confidence slip, narrowing her eyes upon the young man.

  “I’m afraid you don’t understand. I need a room, here. I have the money for a night’s stay,” she said coolly. He tilted his head curiously, that same dopey smile tainting his already poor features.