Weightless

by Gia Riley

  I fidget with the tank top I’m wearing, pulling it up higher to cover my chest, and down lower to cover my stomach. Feeling overly exposed in the skirt, I almost change. But I keep it on for Kipton. A year ago, I laughed at girls in skirts this short, but tonight I want him to see me sexier than ever. I put extra effort into my appearance for all the wrong reasons, mostly because of the threat of Alisa.

  “You look totally hot, Sophie. Wow.”

  “Eh, this old thing?” It’s a total lie. I tried on five different outfits before I ended up in this one.

  Cara puts her arm around my shoulder. “I’m rubbing off on you in the most spectacular way, but cut the tag off the top before we leave,” she says as she hands me the scissors from the kitchen drawer.

  Laughing, I hold up my arm for her to see the entire tag. With a quick snip, it falls to the floor. I’ve come a long way in the fashion department, but apparently I still have a long way to go. “Where’s Drew?”

  “He’s meeting us in about an hour. He had to take his car to the shop on Spruce Street. Can you believe he has another nail in his tire?”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah, but I told him to text your phone when he’s done. I’m not bringing mine. Last time we went out I almost dropped it in the toilet.”

  “Of course you did. Come on then, I’m hungry.” I haven’t eaten anything since Cara’s macaroni and cheese.

  Thankfully, the bar is only a few blocks away from our house, and our walk is short. “Fresh meat!” A bunch of guys yell from the other side of the street. Ignoring them, we continue to Shooter’s. At the cross walk, a car honks while the passenger hangs out the window, whistling at us.

  “They’re vultures tonight,” I groan.

  “It’s the skirt.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe, but I think they’re just a bunch of horny pigs.”

  At the next light, we cross the street, passing by a crowd of smokers lining the side of the building. I wave my hand in front of my face, gagging from inhaling the cloud of smoke as we hurry to the entrance.

  Inside Shooter’s, the lights are dim creating an inviting, mysterious atmosphere. The floors are solid wood with a glow of colorful lights cascading around the walls. It’s different than I expected, but the tufted leather booths lining the wall look like a perfect place to hang out.

  “Do you have your phone?” Cara shouts over the sound system blaring the latest from the Billboard charts.

  “I have it on vibrate. Lets check out the bar, and then grab a booth.”

  Cara must agree to the plan because she yanks my arm, pulling me through the mass of bodies lining the bar that expands the entire back wall of the building. With a few sweet smiles and a flutter of her eyelashes, Cara weasels her way in front of a few guys waiting for their turn with the bartender.

  “Boys, you don’t mind if we slip in here, do you?” she asks suggestively. They stare at her boobs and practically drool from the sight of her.

  “Um, no. Not at all,” the one closest to Cara says without bothering to check with any of his friends. “Can we buy you a shot or something?” he offers.

  Cara gasps in surprise. She plays the part well. “You hear that, Sophie? Such gentlemen. It would be an honor to have you buy us something, handsome.”

  I have to turn my head away from her to hide my laughter. They’re eating up every line of bullshit she’s feeding them. Poor guys never saw her coming.

  “This is Bryan and I’m Dave.”

  Cara holds her hand out for each to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Coco and this is my roommate, Chanel.” Dave winks at me and I give him an awkward smile in return. “What do you want to drink, Chanel?” Cara asks.

  “Vodka cranberry is good for me.”

  “Make that two, Bryan.”

  The guys order for us and within minutes we’re sipping on our drinks through tiny red plastic straws. “Ditch time,” Cara mouths to me. “You boys have fun tonight; we’ll be on the dance floor.” She gives each a separate wink while I settle for a simple wave of my fingers.

  Still in awe of her, they nod their heads and eye us appreciatively, unaware they just got played like a fiddle.

  “And that, Sophie, is how it’s done.”

  “The names were a nice touch.” I give her credit. She knows how to work some magic when needed. If I wasn’t with her, I’d still be waiting in the back of the crowd for a drink, trying my best to blend in, yet stand out enough to get noticed.

  Once we settle into our booth, Cara rests her chin on her hands with her straw between her lips. She takes a few sips before drumming her nails on the table top. “I’m proud of you, Sophie. You really came a long way with the party scene since last year.”

  I can’t say there was one specific moment that changed my mind about drinking. If anything, it was a combination of events that helped me realize I could live my own life without worrying about becoming my worst nightmare—Dean. “It’s a lot more fun without concussions or raging hangovers.”

  “True. That was a bad combination.”

  My phone buzzes on the table top, and Cara snatches it before I have a chance to see who it is. I think she wants to yell at Kipton even more than I do. “It’s Drew!” She says as her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “I’ll text him where we’re sitting so he can find us.”

  “Okay. I have to pee. I’ll be right back.”

  She pushes onto her knees so she can see the room over the high back of the booth. “It’s filling up in here, wait for Drew and I’ll walk with you.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll be quick. Order me another drink when he gets here. Same thing.”

  “You got it.”

  I slide out of the booth, but it takes forever to squeeze through all the bodies grinding against each other on the dance floor. A few times random hands grope me as I inch by. I slap at the hands, making sure my skirt is still covering my ass. I’ll have to find a better route on the way back.

  I’m relieved when I see the sign for the bathrooms, although not surprised the line has already spilled into the hallway. With a handful of girls ahead of me, I wait patiently in the hallway for my turn.

  A large hand squeezes my shoulder as a warm body envelops me in a hug from behind. “Baby, I’ve missed you. It’s been too long,” he says adoringly. But this man doesn’t possess a single loving quality—I’m not even sure he’s capable of love.

  I try to twist around in his arms, but his grip is too tight. I never thought I’d hear his voice again let alone feel his touch on my skin. “Let go of me.”

  “Shut your fucking mouth and walk toward the door,” he warns in a whisper loud enough for only me to hear. To anyone else, it looks like I just got a sexy greeting from my boyfriend. But I know it’s anything but friendly. He’s here for revenge.

  The only place for me to go is straight ahead through a marked emergency exit. I head toward it with the hopes the wailing alarm will cause enough of a commotion for me to run away. He holds onto me, ramming the door open with my body. The door hits me hard in the stomach, but it’s the least of my worries because the alarm I was counting on to save me, doesn’t work.

  Thrashing from side to side, my attempts to escape are wasted. His hold around my body becomes painfully tighter as his hand reaches up to cover my mouth. My scream disappears, and the only sound that’s left is muffled and worthless. “Shut the fuck up, Sophie.”

  Struggling, I use my nails to claw at the fingers blocking my air flow, but he doesn’t budge. My ability to breathe becomes harder with each passing second—my pulse pounding so forcefully I can feel the whooshing in my ears.

  I fade in and out, desperate for oxygen. Realizing I’m about to pass out, he adjusts his hand a fraction of an inch. It’s enough for me to be able to breathe through my nose. “If you scream again or try to run, I’ll make this ten times worse for you. Now walk toward the dumpsters.”

  The alcohol on his breath is strong with the familiar scent of whiskey assaultin
g my senses. It reminds me of everything I’ve worked so hard to escape , but it makes me fight harder.

  Twisting and turning I kick my leg, hoping I’m powerful enough to make contact. But no matter how hard I try, nothing works. His size is no match for my small body.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this day, Sophie?” Paralyzed by the fear of his words, I stop thrashing. When I do, he removes his hand from my mouth, testing me. I stay silent, praying he’s about to release me. He kisses my neck and I raise my shoulders, cringing from the intimate contact. “Don’t act like you don’t want it.”

  “What do you want from me, Blaine?”

  Call it luck, or coincidence, but just as I hoped, he lets go of me. I spin my body around to face his. For the first time since he grabbed me, I can look him in the eye. His jeans are worn with holes in the knees, and the leather riding jacket he’s wearing is the same one he used to wear when he had his motorcycle.

  But it’s his shaggy hair that stands out the most. It’s longer than he used to wear it, and as he removes the dark glasses covering his bloodshot eyes, they’re filled with more hatred than I’ve ever seen. Despite the changes to his physical appearance, I can tell he’s still the same guy who destroyed me.

  He reaches out to touch my face. I flinch, but don’t move away. It will only make him angrier. The worn pad of his thumb rubs over my top lip, and then the bottom. “It’s a damn shame this pretty little mouth of yours got me in so much trouble.”

  “When did you get released?” I have to pretend I care. The more he talks, the less focused he’ll be on hurting me.

  “I was released early. You’re the only one who thinks I deserved to be behind bars, sweetheart.”

  Why didn’t I know he was out of jail? Wasn’t I supposed to get some kind of written warning about him being back on the streets again?

  He takes a step closer, but I counter with a step backward. The fire behind his eyes ignites as I try to defy him. His hand latches onto my arm, pulling me flush against his body. Lightly kissing my cheek, my stomach rolls from the smell of the alcohol on his breath mixed with the stale cigarette smoke on his clothing. I turn my head away from him, desperate to put some space between us.

  Without thinking about repercussions, I try to dart around him, but he catches me easily, slamming my body against the chain link fence separating the dumpsters from the rest of the property.

  “Think you’re going somewhere, Sophie?” He peppers my face with spit as he annunciates each syllable of my name. “We have a few things to get straight first.”

  With the wind knocked out of me from the blow against the fence, I struggle to form a response. “Like what?”

  “You know what you little bitch. What did I say would happen to you if you told?”

  When I don’t answer him fast enough, he grabs my shoulders, shaking me painfully. Again he asks, “What the fuck did I say?”

  “That you’d make me regret it,” I whisper.

  “That’s a good girl.” Running his finger down my cheek, he cups my jaw roughly as he holds me against the fence. The metal digs into my back, a few jagged pieces scratching me through the thin fabric of my shirt. There’s nowhere for me to run—no one out here to hear me scream. “Don’t look so scared, baby doll. I’ll only hurt you if you’re bad.”

  “You’re hurting me, Blaine. They’re going to come looking for me when I don’t come back from the bathroom. Please, let me go back inside.”

  “Who?”

  “My roommate and her boyfriend. They’re inside.”

  “It’s a shame Kipton’s not here. I’d love to meet him.”

  The look of pure evil that forms after he says Kipton’s name makes this ten times worse. “How do you know about Kipton?”

  “I know everything about you, angel. When will you get it through this pretty little head that you’re my girl. Not his.” He leans forward to kiss my lips, but I keep them clamped shut. It only frustrates him more. “There’s no use fighting it. I always get what I want.”

  “Then tell me what you want and we can move on.”

  He ignores my question entirely. Instead, he stares through me like he’s a million miles away. “If you would have just listened to me, Sophie. I know how to keep you safe.”

  I shake my head back and forth. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He tosses his head backward, laughing manically at my response. “I went to jail, Sophie. I have a record because of you.”

  He has a record because he abused me. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Dean told me you ran away. You’re so selfish.”

  Why would he tell him I ran away?

  “After a little digging, I found a forwarding address. Led me right to you.”

  The little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Come on, our ride’s here.”

  I can’t leave with him. Blaine senses the moment I start to panic. As he reaches for my arm, I take one step forward and knee him in the crotch as hard as I possibly can.

  Instantly, he hunches over in agony. “You little fuckin bitch.” Even though he’s in pain, he charges at me. Before I can get around him, he grabs me by the arm and throws me to the ground. Pain screams through every nerve ending in my shoulder.

  It would be less painful to stay on the ground, but I have to keep fighting. Scrambling to my feet, I ignore my shoulder. I search the ground for something I can use as protection, but all I find are a bunch of rocks.

  “Jake,” he yells. “Get over here.”

  Squatting to the ground, I dig my nails into the gravel. I can feel a few snap from the pressure, but I come up with handfuls of rocks to throw at Blaine. He stumbles backward, dodging most of the them.

  "You're lucky you throw like a girl, Sophie." The rage emanating from his eyes has me wanting to curl into a ball and beg for mercy, but I don't let him see my pain. Instead, I stand strong while I crumble on the inside.

  A dark shadow rounds the corner as one of Blaine’s goons comes closer. “Blaine, please. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll make something up. They’ll believe me.”

  “That’s what got me in trouble in the first place. You must think I’m fucking stupid.”

  “I know you’re not stupid, but you’ll go back to jail if they find you out here.”

  “I hate to tell you Sophie, but nobody is going to find you out here. At least not until I give you what you deserve.”

  The footsteps get closer, and I know this is it. I can’t fight off two grown men. “Then do it! Just fucking do it, and get it over with,” I scream at him.

  Within seconds of the words leaving my mouth, Blaine takes the bait. He lurches forward, throwing his fist into my face. The stinging blow across my cheek blinds me. Staggering, I try to stay on my feet because if I go down, he'll end me. But as warm blood trickles from above my eye, down the side of my face, Blaine’s expression changes. His eyes soften, and he doesn’t look like he wants to hit me again. “Shit.” He says as he kicks around some of the rocks I threw at him. He throws his hands in the air and punches the fence with his fist. It takes the blow easily, unlike my face. “Look at what you made me do, sweetheart.”

  “Blaine, I’m sorry,” I plead.

  He reaches up and runs his fingers through the trail of blood, wiping it on the front of my shirt. “I love you, Sophie. Why did you turn on me?”

  “I didn’t, Blaine. I swear. It wasn’t me who told,” I tell him, as I sob into the night air.

  Glancing at my open cut, he sighs in disgust. “We’ll fix this.” He pushes my blood stained hair away from my face. “We can fix us, too.”

  “Okay,” I say, barely above a whisper.

  “Jake, get over here.”

  The shadow moves closer, and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “It’s you,” I whisper.

  “Sophie.” His deep voice says my name with no emotion�
�like we’re total strangers meeting each other for the first time.

  I look between Blaine and Jake, unable to figure out how they know each other. “I don’t understand.”

  “He works for me, sweetheart. How do you think I kept tabs on you when I wasn’t allowed within five feet of you.”

  “But he’s in some of my classes, and he asked me out.” It’s too late to take back the words after they slip out. Before I can react, Blaine’s hand is around my throat.

  “Blaine,” Jake yells. “You made your point.” It only angers him more when Jake tries to tell him what to do. As I struggle to breathe, he backhands me across the face. I absorb the blow as my legs buckle beneath me. He grabs me by my shirt, hoisting me back onto my feet. “You’re a slut,” he seethes.

  "Please, I beg."

  He grabs my chin, forcing me to look into his manic eyes. He’s spent years torturing me, making me believe I didn't deserve to see tomorrow, but it’s been so long since he’s laid a hand on me, everything hurts ten times worse than I remember. “You should be thankful I ever wanted you, Sophie.”

  I can’t keep my tears inside. “You don’t have to be this guy, Blaine. Be the one I fell in love with.”

  He holds onto me by my hips, keeping me an arm’s length away. “Tell me you still love me.” He wipes away more blood that’s mixing with my tears.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “You love me, Sophie. I know you do.”

  “Then stop hurting me.”

  The back door to the bar opens, and an employee carrying a bag of trash walks through the propped open metal door. Before I can scream for help, Blaine covers my mouth again. His hold isn’t as tight as before, and I sink my teeth into his hand.

  Instantly, he pulls his hand away from my mouth. “You bit me!” His knee jerk reaction nails me in the ribs. The searing pain in my side ricochets though my body. I double over, landing hard on my sore shoulder.

  Blaine charges again, but Jake holds him back before he can land another blow. “I told you to watch her, asshole. Not fall for her.” They continue to argue as my vision blurs. Eventually, they disappear down the darkness of the ally. Left battered and alone, I fight for each breath I take. In shallow spurts, air passes in and out of my mouth.