Rival by M.C. Cerny
Elizabeth
My prince of darkness came in a hazy mix of narcotics and insomnia. At first it was the smell. A deep, woodsy aroma and a combination of citrus that stung my nose in a curling vine, worming its way into my brain like a parasite. It could have been the hospital antiseptic, but someone that good-looking could never smell offensive; it was a rule, or a law based on teen magazine bullshit they paraded in the bodega aisles with false promises and prom dress trends.
“Time to wake up, Elizabeth.” His velvet voice was danger and all the bad things good girls were warned about. His hand caressed my hair, rubbing the stubborn curls away from my brow gently.
I kept my eyes closed, mimicking sleep. My bladder, full and aching, forced my attention to his presence in the room. I squeezed my thighs together under the thin covers. Certain a little piss leaked out, I couldn’t feel much below my waist when the drowning feeling of quicksand returned. My legs refused to work, and the suffocating vulnerability terrified me.
“I won’t ask you twice.” He placed a large, heavy hand on my knee. His grip traveled south over thick blankets that chained me down, feeling his way toward the end of the bed.
My eyes snapped open and looked into his green ones, orbs of hell in an emerald hue. He wasn’t kind or benevolent, and his grip deepened, making me arch on the bed in pain.
“Ahhhhhh.” Horrendous pain radiated up my leg as he squeezed the white bandages swallowing my foot. So much for the numbness below my waist. If this was his formal introduction, I’d hate to know how he treated those he didn’t like.
His arm reached long enough for him to lean into my side mocking, “Good morning, princess.”
This guy seemed to have a number of nicknames for me, all said with malice and mockery. A few of my own came to mind in return. Asshole, pig, and cock-sucking bastard. He was hurting me, all because I helped steal his fucking car with a bunch of stupid kids from my neighborhood. I don’t know if he knew that or if it was an educated guess on his part.
“What do you want?” I asked over the dry lump in my throat.
I knew what I wanted. A moment of freedom, a moment to be someone I wasn’t, and the resulting consequence, had I known the difference, wasn’t nearly worth it.
He scanned the room as he tapped his finger to his chin, making me wait and upping the level of edginess I felt. His eyes bored into me when he spoke. “Retribution. You took something from me, and now I’m going to take something from you.”
I scoffed.
“You got it back, didn’t you?” I said between gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.
He cocked his head assessing me, and I gulped back bile.
“Your filthy little friends took my rims and left a scratch on the front fender I had to have repaired.” He leaned in closer, narrowing his eyes. “There’s also a dent in the door from a foot about the size of yours.”
He scanned down my legs, and I gulped back a response as he continued his list of grievances. “I’ll have you know it’s a two hundred-thousand-dollar car.”
My stomach bottomed out, and my throat dried up. There was no way I was going to get out of this, whatever this was. The way he called my friends filthy and looked at me like I was worthless—the equivalent to gum on the bottom of his shoe—rankled me.
“Seems rather extravagant, don’t you think?” I said as his eyes constricted into terrifying dragon slits. My smart mouth was going to be the death of me as he breathed fire.
He hissed in my face. I swore his tongue forked, viper that he was. “It’s worth more than your sorry little life.”
Bravado propelled me over the edge of no return.
“Maybe you should rethink what you drive down in the ward.”
He inclined further, getting close to my ear, and chills racked my body from head to foot. I soberly wished it was the flu and not my life about to be drained from my body. Nary a whisker marred his perfect skin, and he smelled like a fancy department store I’d gotten kicked out of last Christmas when Eddie and I hopped the bus to the Garden State Plaza Mall.
His minty breath burned my nose when he spoke. “I own the ward, little girl, and everything within it, including you. Don’t fuck with my patience.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat. “Or what?”
He leaned back and ran his hand through his perfectly styled hair. His angular face was pretty, carved and sculpted to perfection while his body looked like he spent hours a day in the gym; underneath his suit, the seams at the shoulders pressed and strained the dark fabric shot with silver threads. I was no match for him in the state I was in. I doubted I would ever be a match against him.
“My little bird, I’m the villain in this story. You would do well to remember that.” There was no doubt in my mind he was telling the truth.
Fever stained my puffy cheeks, and the tears in my eyes pooled deep threatening to break the dam. “Fuck you!” I growled through the pain.
“Tut, tut. You’re a mouthy little bitch for one so young.” His grip on my injured foot intensified, paralyzing me.
“What do you care?”
“I care very much, my darling.” His tone darkened as he made his wishes known, sending shivers through me. “This is how it works, Elizabeth.” His toothy grin of perfect white teeth placated me like I was a toddler.
“What do you want?” I asked him again through rasped whispers.
“Since I believe everything is negotiable, here’s how it’s going to go. You can come with me willingly and service me, however I choose–”
I interrupted him, no way was that happening.
Not fucking ever.
“Service you? I’m not a fucking prostitute. You’re a sick fuck. I’m just a kid.” He had to be twice my age, easily.
I tried kicking out with my good foot, but he grabbed that one too and squeezed the delicate ankle bone until I cried out. He would break it if I struggled further, and the fight left me, deflating my last balloon of hope. My stomach churned, and I thought about vomiting, but the look on his face made me choke back the bile that rose to my lips. His glare said I had better not try anything if I wanted legs to support me walking out of here.
The grip on my foot increased until I screamed.
“I wasn’t finished, brat,” he said.
Recognizing the lethality behind his tone stopped me from making another pitiful kicked dog sound. Why wasn’t anyone coming in here to help me, save me, or something?
He continued dictating the direction of the conversation. “Or … I can kill your brother slowly and hurt his pretty little girlfriend.”
“They haven’t done anything wrong,” I whispered.
“Also true.” He released me with a push and examined his perfect nails.
Every minute that passed got louder with the ticking of his fancy watch.
He glanced up at me from his devious green eyes. “I could also make sure Eddie succeeds in his military career with the connections I have. Fiona could go to school without having to juggle two or three jobs before dropping out. Such a shame for a smart girl like her to struggle, don’t you agree?”
I didn’t understand how he knew these things about us, but he seemed readily able to answer the questions I had yet to voice.
“Your brother is full of potential, and Fiona is such a smart girl.”
He mocked them. My shame and guilt mixed corrosively in my heart. Eddie and Fi could have a great future if I wasn’t hell-bent on screwing things up. If I hadn’t gotten caught.
Stupidity spoke for me. “What kind of choice is that, you monster?”
My free hand grabbed for the nurse call button, but he flung it away. Nothing reached my fingers except empty desperation. The plastic button cracked on the floor, and my heart raced in terror knowing he would crush me given half the chance.
“It’s the only one I’m giving you. You have no idea what kind of monster I can be. Think about it, Elizabeth.” He squeezed tightly, and the noose slipped firmly around my neck. “Think about it real hard, and I’ll be back in the morning.”
He walked out of the room, shutting the door softly. I listened to it click and knew I had been locked in with no choice. My other ankle throbbed, and I was certain the bruises would match. Twinsies. I was effectively hobbled in my prison. Giving the room a cursory glance, I realized I wasn’t in a normal wing of the hospital reserved for the dirt-poor like myself. A calming palette of color covered the walls, and the bedding was softer somehow; not the scratchy dry cotton of the emergency room with the overwhelming smell of piss and antiseptic you normally associated with a medical facility in the ward.
I searched for the call button and found the wire tangled in my sheets, pulling it up to my reach. My finger caressed the top of the broken red button, debating on pressing it. No one could help me now, but I clutched that cord as a lifeline. It was all I had even if it was unreliable.
Hours passed staring at the ceiling, and I knew I had no other choice. I wasn’t about to let my protective older brother pay for my mistakes, or let that man hurt Fiona who had been the closest thing to a sister and motherly figure I’d ever had.
Life wasn’t fair. I needed to play a careful game, if I didn’t want to end up six feet under like a crack whore nobody cared about in Potter’s field. I didn’t want to be a nobody from the ward, thrown away and forgotten. I didn’t want anyone else to pay for my sins. Wasn’t this what Father Morely had warned me about presiding over my mother’s funeral? Evil in the heart must be vanquished. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep courtesy of my morphine drip.
“Little birdie…” Musty breath permeated my nostrils, filling my empty stomach with dread.
My eyes popped open to find my demon’s henchman invading the private room.
“Help! Somebody!” I yelled.
I tried to grab the clicker button for the nurses’ station, but it was yanked from my hand. The asshole from the alley was now crushing it in his grip.
“Remember me? I’m Derrick. I work for Mr. Huntley.” He susurrated. The warmth of his breath made me sweat.
I nodded, biting my lips so hard I drew blood. My eyes darted to the heart rate monitor that jumped erratically with my terror. I had no idea who Mr. Huntley was, but I remembered this guy clearly, and now I knew he was part of my nightmare’s crew of bullies.
“Nobody is coming to help you,” he said.
“W-what do you want?” Gasping breaths didn’t help the pain as he squeezed and twisted my middle finger painfully, jerking me up in the bed.
“Just teaching you how to be polite.”
“P-polite?” Fear and helplessness induced my stutter.
“It’s not nice to make rude gestures, little birdie.” He smiled, increasing his grip.
My finger cracked, popping under the pressure and bend of his grasp. I screamed out when he released my hand, tossing it to the bed like a used rag he was done with.
I gathered my hand against my chest as I viewed the distended digit popped at an odd angle swelling. “Oh my God, you broke it.”
His gap tooth smile grinned from ear to ear cruelly. “Next time, little birdie, you should be careful pointing fingers at people. It’s considered rude.”
I had a slew of rude behaviors I wanted to share with Derrick the Dick, but I refrained after seeing my hand busted up.
He cocked his head to the side, smirking, and walked out as a nurse walked in. He whispered to her. Her face was unsmiling as she nodded, avoiding eye contact. I didn’t know what he said to her. I was put in a wheelchair and brought to an X-ray room. I guessed that Mr. Huntley wasn’t too interested in broken toys with the way I was being cared for on his dime. However, I wasn’t given so much as an expensive Tylenol when they brought me back to my room, my finger in a special splint. At home, I would have been lucky to find a Popsicle stick and duct tape. This was obviously the royal treatment.
I was such a luckygirl…