Feeling White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Fuck you. Nobody’s bloody possession,” she slurs to him as she looks at me. “You, toilet, now, hair… Fucking mess.” Oh, right. Shit hair, not good. I get up, stumble a bit and grab onto his shoulder, which is big. Yes, big. Good shoulders. Good arse, too, nice lips. Where the hell is Alex?

  “You look damn fine in that suit, Conner. Very cute... Yes, cute, blue hair, oh wow, pink tips...” I’m giggling now. I can’t think at all. Why is the floor moving?

  “Get your arse over here,” Belle shouts at me as she grabs my arm and we both wobble towards the corridor. “You’re so pissed.” She laughs.

  “You are so much more pisseder, pissdisder, wankered.” I giggle as I clutch her arm and navigate the floor. We’re obviously ten again.

  “Would you ladies like a lift to the bathroom?” Conner chuckles behind us. We both try to glare at him but hit each other’s heads together instead as we turn around. Subtle, Beth, really sodding elegant.

  “Shit,” is the only word I can find as we right ourselves and I head for the toilets with Belle swaying beside me. I can see the corridor; it’s over there. Why won’t it just stay still for a minute?

  “Christ, Beth, what did you put in those drinks?” she says as we reach the bathroom door.

  “Me? You made them. I just put the orange juice in. I think... Didn’t I?” I can’t remember a sodding thing. She pushes on the door. I follow and fall straight over her as she tumbles to the ground in what can only be described as a whirlwind of over-acting and dramatics.

  “Christ, Belle, get the hell up. What the fuck is going on? It’s normally me,” I say as I crawl my way up the wall and try to find the sink units. She doesn’t bother to get up, just belly crawls commando style across the floor. I can’t stop the fit of hysterics that bursts from my lungs as I watch Action Woman trying to make her way to the toilet.

  “Oh, shitting hell that’s funny. You look like Barbie gone all CIA or something.” I giggle as I lean my weight on the counter top and try to look at myself in the mirror, which keeps moving, or maybe it’s dirty for some reason?

  “At least I haven’t got an eighties hair do,” she laughs as she strips her jeans off and sits on the loo. “You look like a cheap fucking Vegas hooker.” Oh, holy fuck, I do!

  My eyes are a bag of black mascara and my hair, well my hair has done its frizzy I don’t give a shit thing. Honestly, I couldn’t make it look less like crap if I tried. Clip? Have I got a clip? Rifling through my bag, which happens to be Belle’s because I’ve picked up the wrong one, I find a brown crocodile clip and set about doing something with my hair while I wipe at my eyes and try to regain some impression of order. Belle finds her way over to me, on her feet this time - well, nearly on her feet - and starts the process of damage limitation on her own face. Giggling our way through various mascaras and lipsticks, we’re eventually reasonably happy with our appearance again.

  “I think I’m going to take Conner home. I’m in need of round two,” Belle says to me quite abruptly with a serious face. I burst out laughing and fall back towards the toilet. Then, remembering that I actually do need to pee, I start to take my jeans down. “Are you coming?”

  “Was earlier,” I giggle at her. She bursts out laughing and zig zags for the door.

  “I’ll see you out there in a few,” she calls as the door closes. I stare at the wall and try to focus my fuddled brain back into gear. Water, that’s what I need. As I’m pulling up my jeans, I hear the door opening again and giggle at the thought of Belle crawling back across it again.

  “Jesus, what have you forgotten now, you stupid cow?” I shout as I try to organise my belt and look up. It’s not Belle, and I step backward into the toilet again as a man I don’t know looks me up and down with a lecherous smile. He’s big, and I’m suddenly very aware of my vision swimming and my inability to focus on anything. I shake my head about in the hope it will bring some order to my sight. Thankfully it does a little as my heart rate speeds up at the potential danger. Why is he looking at me like that?

  “This is the ladies. You should be next door,” I say quietly as my non-pissed brain races back to me. He looks a little too confident for my liking and I realise he knows exactly where he is. He grins; it makes me shiver. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing but Alex is out there and he’s not going to be happy if-” No more words get out as he lunges forward, knocks me backwards into the toilet and closes the door behind him. I open my mouth to scream but his hand is instantly over it.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I watched you earlier. You like it like this, don’t you?” he sneers as he grabs at my breast with his hand and pushes his erection into me. I have no idea what to do but instinct suddenly kicks in and I start kicking and pushing at him furiously. He’s too strong and I can’t get a decent shot in whichever way I try. He roughly turns me round and holds me up against the toilet door. “All his whores are like this, begging for it. You’re all fucking sluts,” he mumbles as he undoes my belt and flicks the button on my jeans. Christ, Beth, get it together. The door opens inwards, toilet’s behind you, mouth covered, bite! For fucks sake bite!

  I wrestle my head around to loosen his grip on me, which only gets me a maniacal laugh and a tug of my jeans but it does dislodge his hold a little. My teeth find his finger as I clench down as hard as I can and then throw my head backwards, hoping to find his face or nose or anything. The resounding crunch lets me know I’ve hit something and I scream as loud as I can as his hands fly away from my mouth. I turn and shove at him with all my might as he topples backwards clutching at his nose and lands on the toilet head first.

  Scrabbling for the door, I unlock it and bolt as fast as my feet will take me, but just as I get to the door, his hand grabs onto my arm and yanks me back to him. I scream as hard as my lungs can manage and send my arms flailing around at him, slapping and kicking for all I’m worth, nails clawing and lunging for eyes, anything to stop him and give me a chance to get to the door again. I keep screaming in the hope that someone will hear but as he gets a hold of me again and swings his hand at my face, I know I haven’t got a chance. The crack that sends me flying across the room towards the sinks instantly causes the room to spin around me and I grab onto the sink to steady myself. A hand grabs at my jeans again as the other one wrenches my arm behind me and bends me over. Oh, fuck no!

  My head is throbbing and the pain from the strike on my cheek is pounding so badly that I’m struggling to see straight, let alone fight back. I try to move away from him but he yanks at my arm again and I cry out in agony as I feel my shoulder pop a little. He smacks the back of my head forward and I bash it on the sink unit and slump forward with a groan. I know I should fight but I can’t move away from him as he shoves me forward again, pinning me and snarling at me.

  “Now shut the fuck up and stay still, you whore. I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna take it,” he grunts as he licks my neck disgustingly and his rancid breath hits my airways. I heave in repulsion but my head hurts so much that I just try to find my peaceful place. It’s safe there, quiet. “We all know how he treats his women, darlin’. I bet you like it rough, dontcha?” he whispers disturbingly as he tugs my jeans again and I hear his zipper. That’s enough for me to find my voice again and I scream. No fucking way am I making it easy for him. I might like it rough but not from him. I will not be raped easily.

  Picking my foot up, I slam it down on his toes and am rewarded with an injured shout of pain but his hold increases and he gets his hand in the front of my jeans. Oh no, oh no, oh no... I squirm again and clamp my thighs together, hoping like hell that this isn’t going to happen. Clearly no one can hear my screams in here. The music’s too loud and there isn’t any women here apart from Belle, but I keep trying anyway in hope. In one last-ditch attempt to get noticed, I scream Alex’s name at the top of my lungs as I feel my jeans moving down across my arse and my arm being yanked up my back again. Nothing happens and I realise that it’s going to happen. I’m going to be rap
ed, and no matter how much I struggle, I can’t get him off me. My body stills and my eyes swim again with tears as my mouth starts begging in hope.

  “Please don’t do this. I don’t want this, plea-”

  Suddenly all the weight on me is gone and I heave out a breath as I warily lift my aching head to see why. The vision that hits me is both comforting and scary as hell and I jolt myself upright and grab onto the counter behind me. Alex has him pinned to the wall by his neck and is repeatedly smashing his fist into his face with such force that the resulting blood splatter lands on my t-shirt. I slowly look down at it and heave again as the room starts to spin. I look back up to watch him let go of the man and let him slump to the floor then shove him to the ground with his foot as he starts kicking him viciously in the head and stomach. I struggle to process what’s happening in front of me as my vision sways a little, and I gaze on in slow motion, listening to the grunts of aggression and bloody spluttering. The man has given up fighting back or even trying to protect himself and is now floundering around limply. He’s going to bloody kill him!

  No, he can’t kill him; that would be bad. I shake my head at myself as I see Alex crouch down over him and pick up the man’s neck so that he can throw some more punches at his face. His eyes are wild with violence and brutality, his body tensed to hell as if he has no intention of stopping any time soon and I realise I’ve got to stop him. I take a wobbly step forward.

  “Alex, stop,” I say quietly. I can hardly hear my own voice as I reach my fingers toward him. He hauls the man back up and throws him against the wall and continues with his beating. “Alex, please, you’re going to kill him,” I shout out, trying to get his attention. He’s so engrossed in the demolition of the man’s face that he can’t even hear me. I move forward a bit more and try to grab his arm before it connects again. His eyes swing to mine for a second before he pushes me away forcefully and returns to his pounding. “Fuck, Alex, stop!” Nothing. “Please... Alex? Shit... Please!” I realise I have to get someone and make for the door as best I can, holding onto the wall and screaming for Conner, for anyone.

  I make it to the corridor before I fall to my knees and start to heave again at the thought of all the blood and scream again for help. Conner is by my feet in seconds with a confused expression and I point wildly at the toilet, grabbing onto his shin.

  “Stop him, Conner. He’s going to kill him.” He bolts for the room and Belle quickly gathers me up into her arms and tries to lead me away, but I have to go back. I have to know that Alex is alright, that Conner’s stopped him before it’s too late.

  “No, Belle, I have to go back.” She’s dragging at me to go the other way so I shove at her and push her to the floor as I grab the wall and run back to the bathroom. “Get the fuck off me!” She clutches my arm back to her.

  “What the hell happened?” she shrieks at me. I can’t answer. I just have to open the door. “Beth, what happened?” My hand grabs the handle and I slump back to the ground as I gaze at the scene before me and lean against the door.

  Conner has both of his arms wrapped around Alex’s elbows and is trying his damndest to restrain him from going back to the man on the floor while quietly talking into his ear. He’s jerking wildly in Conner’s grasp and bellowing violently as he tries to free himself and then slams his head back towards Conner’s face. He dodges effectively and continues with his murmuring. I can’t hear what he’s saying but it seems to be working as I watch Alex slow his movements slightly. My eyes glance at the man on the floor. He’s breathing, just. The coughing up of blood and the heavy rasping noise coming from his throat let me know as much so at least I know he’s not dead. There’s not much of his face left, though, and the strange angle of his thigh looks revolting as it jars out sideways.

  “Oh holy fuck, what happened, Beth?” Belle whispers over my shoulder as she sits down next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder, pulling me to her protectively. I just stare at Alex as Conner eventually lets him go gently and he begins pacing with his hands on the back of his neck. He seems a little calmer now, still sneering with fury but thankfully not doing any more about it. My eyes glance at the man on the floor again and watch as he continues to bubble blood from his mouth and nose. Alex moves across to him and shoves his injured leg sadistically, causing the man to gurgle a scream in agony. I can’t even begin to process where my Alex is because this isn’t him, so who the hell am I looking at here? All that behaviour was sheer animal, no thought or sense, just callous, brutal violence.

  “Belligare,” I mutter quietly as his tattoo flits through my mind. Who the hell am I in love with?

  That wasn’t a businessman. That was a man who’d fought before, and who was happy doing it, who was so involved in a merciless killing spree that he couldn’t even process his girlfriend behind him screaming for help. That was a fucking nightmare waiting to happen and as I watch him simmering away in the corner of the room, looking down at the man he’s nearly killed with no emotion other than a sneer, I realise I know absolutely nothing about him, nothing at all.

  Who the hell is Alexander White? Or Nicholas Adlin, for that matter?

  I can’t even begin to comprehend how much else is in his closet, regardless of how much I think I love him, so I do the only thing I can think of as his head turns toward me slowly and he takes a step forward. Thankfully Conner holds up his hand to stop him.

  “Drink,” I say as I haul myself up and pull my eyes away from him to head for the bar. Belle grabs me and helps me toward it. I walk straight behind it and pour the scotch that they were drinking earlier with a shaky hand, tipping it straight down my neck. I refill it and tip another one down.

  “Honey, slow down,” Belle says quietly as she reaches for my hand. I shrug her off and pour another one. “Well at least pour me one then,” she continues as I glare at her. Why I’m so angry is anyone’s guess? I was very nearly raped. I should be a cowering heap of nerves but for some reason, I’m just furious, with myself? Possibly. Or with him? I don’t know. He was protecting me. I should be proud and thankful but the ferocity that was in that room was not part of the man I love, or was it?

  I have no idea, absolutely no sodding idea.

  Is this the rage he controls? Is this why he needs his preferences? Is this what his father was? Is he nearer to his father than I thought? Shit, what the hell was that?

  “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. Completely and utterly, not.

  “I was attacked in the toilet. Alex pulled him off.” My voice comes out methodical and calculated as if I’m telling someone else’s story. She gasps and moves to hug me. I back off instantly. I don’t want anyone touching me, not even her. “I want to go home,” I say as I pick up my bag and head for the front entrance. She follows behind me quietly.

  “Honey, you need to report this. We need the police here.” I swing round so fast I almost knock her over and glare at her. Is she fucking kidding?

  “Did you just see that in there, Belle? He’s nearly dead, for fuck’s sake! Alex will be arrested and go to jail because of me. No fucking police, okay?” I shout at her venomously. I can’t stop my rage from exploding all over her. She backs up and stares at me with a shocked expression so I continue my scowl, daring her to continue.

  “Belle, can you give us a minute?” Alex’s calm voice comes out of the darkness behind her. I freeze and glare over at him as he wanders casually over. Not a hint of anger is left on his beautiful face now as I boil away inside and picture him fifteen minutes ago, pounding the shit out of a man’s face. You wouldn’t even know what had just happened if you didn’t notice the blood oozing from his knuckles and the spray of crimson splattering his suit and shirt.

  “Okay,” she says quietly as she reaches out to me. I take her hand and give it a squeeze then let go and return my gaze to Alex. He looks down at his hands and then shoves them in his pockets with a frown as she walks past him back to the bar.

  “Are you okay? Did he... Did he touch you?” he says
shakily as he looks straight at me.

  “Do you mean did he fuck me, Alex, like all your other whores?” I spit at him.

  “What?” He looks instantly confused and takes a step toward me. I step back. I have no idea who the hell the man is and at the moment, I seriously don’t like him, hero or not.

  “He said he watched us, and that I liked it rough, just like all your other whores.” I glower at him and he stops. All his other whores, just like me, ready for anything, willing to give him anything he wants. I’m suddenly disgusted with myself.

  “No, it’s not like that, Elizabeth... I love you,” he replies as he reaches a hand forward to my face. I step back again and look to the floor.

  “He said they all knew how you liked it, how your whores loved it, how they begged for it.” I can’t look at him anymore. I don’t even know how I feel about anything, including him. I don’t know him and I was nearly raped. My shaking starts again as I try to make my brain process information logically.

  “Baby, no. I love you. Please,” he says as he curls his fingers around my shoulder gently and pulls me to him. God, that feels good... and bad.

  “Is that what I am, Alex? Just another one to fuck? According to him, I am?” I mumble into his chest as the tears start to finally surface. His chin rests on my head as he sighs out and rubs my arm soothingly.

  “No, baby, you’re everything to me. I can’t breathe without you,” he replies quietly as I listen to his heart thundering rapidly. As his arms squeeze around me, I let my tears flow and finally sob my heart out into his body. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” His words only worsen my tears as I wonder who it is that’s got me and my legs give way beneath me. Warm arms wrap around me before I hit the floor and I let myself be carried to wherever he’s taking me as I stare across his shoulder at the corridor and wonder where the man is and if he’s still alive.

  “Is he alive?”

  “For now,” is his response. I have no idea what that means, and frankly, I really couldn’t care less. He’s not dead. Alex isn’t going to jail for murder. That, for me, is okay at the moment.