Riding my bicycle was my safety, although I didn't have a circle of friends. I was met with toxicity anywhere I went–even at home. The streets passed me by as I cycled down it.
Something was empty—missing in my life. A limo up ahead told my gut to investigate but what If my father asked me where I was. He would explode even with a good explanation.
I know he means well. But sometimes those traits people seem to point out and yet I choose to ignore. He means well. He's too stressed.
He rarely drinks too. A commotion stopped me short, making me fixate on what's happening ahead of me. I grip the handles a little too tightly bruising my palm. My medium-length hair, dark like the night waves in the wind–as though it wanted to play with it.
Our eyes meet, a sparks fly unexpectedly–like a deep dark desire seems to awaken. I'm stuck there, mesmerized even, by those eyes. I smile and I haven't done that in a long time.
He held a gun up to the other guy's chest, and seemed to have been in a conversation that only the two of them know the details too. My phone rang just then pulling me back to reality. Great.
Could be another one of his newest trial food he wants me to try. Nothing waits for me at home besides him and his concern. But the stranger was breathtaking, and yet my responsibilities weighed on me. I turn the cycle around after several minutes being frozen there, and start to head home.
I can't face my dad's wrath. And according to him, I am always useless. I pedaled, faster and faster. If I don't get home he's going to finish whatever he's made and I won't have anything left to eat.
The bicycle fell, left there by my hurry to get up to the apartment. His voice shattered the entire peace I had.
"WHERE WERE YOU?"
My heart ran a mile an hour trying to come up with an excuse to calm him down. "I was... out, you know fresh air," I reply, voice small–shrinking in on myself.
He went for the usual whenever he got angry, always degrading me like this. And the next day, he tells me it was only because he didn't want anything happening to me. Of course not.
***
My father went to sleep finally, giving me some peace. I pried to old hinges of the window just to get it open so I can escape. I needed air. But I was not expecting to see that stranger staring up at me or the window I came from. What's his problem?
He seemed keen on watching me, as I tried not to look at the stranger. The stupidly handsome stranger.
I should be in bed. But my belly rumbles–a little too loudly. He popped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, staring at me. Like his soul is empty but my life is amusing to him.
"Penelope! Get fuck back to bed!" Dad's shout finally makes me look back. I sigh and shut the window–rattling it in the process.
***
For the next two days, the stranger didn't show up. My Dark Knight. Who am I kidding? I will never escape these chains. The only place I can be for a while is the bar, owned by a family everyone there fears.
I didn't think of it much since I needed the job and the money that comes with it. And it's not really a lot either. Getting onto my bicycle I pedal to work like usual.
My duty for now is cleaning up, and most of the customers get grabby with me. I just let them do it. One of them–the usual customer decided to squeeze my ass.
I tried not moan as I am just a worker. "Do you want anything else sir?" My voice comes out breathy.
His hands trail down further, deeper. "Keep me company..." the customer said, leaning in. And the he pulls me into his lap, the tray falls to the carpet, laying there forgotten.
My legs are now parted by the man, and I don't say no. Maybe this is what I needed. His other hand is on my breasts squeezing them making me moan.
A hand grabs mine, pulling up and into reality. How long was in that pleasure for? I try to pry the stranger's hand off but he doesn't let go, and instead pushes me behind him.
The same stranger that I happened to come across two days ago.
"You are banned from entering this establishment or any other that my family owns you sick fuck," the stranger says, breathing heavily.
He kicks the customer in the stomach, sending him flying across the room.
The music stops for a moment. Rico, the one who hired me three months ago is also walking over just as the stranger gets close to the customer and seizes his collar–slamming his head over and over again.