Текст книги "Raw"

Sydney, Australia. 2014.

The knocking on the door won’t quit.

Burying myself deeper into the mattress, I pull the covers tighter around me and sigh dreamily.

Knock knock knock…

“Alexa, get your arse up! Did you forget what today is?” That sounds like Drew.

My eyes snap open and I gasp.

“Shit.” I jump out of bed as if I was ejected. “Shit!”

Running down the hall to the front door, I undo the latch and swing the door open. An annoyed looking Drew stands there. He takes one look at my body and his mouth gapes.

Brow furrowing, I look down and yell, “Shit!”

I don’t like to sleep in anything too bulky. A spaghetti-strapped tank and panties are my usual bedding combo. Running back to my room, I hear Drew chuckle and I shout, “Laugh it up, Drew! You’ll get yours.”

Drew is a fellow case worker, and I forgot – I fucking forgot – that we need to be in court early this morning.

I moved to Australia from the US when I was eighteen. My foster mom took care of me from the time I was sixteen, and when her health started to decline, she wanted to move to be closer to her family. Being Australian born, that’s where she was headed, and I accepted that I was losing my mama.

Only, that’s not what happened.

After days of being depressed over her impending departure, she stated, “You need to pack your things into boxes so I can send them ahead of us. You should only keep a suitcase full of clothes. I’ll make sure I don’t send everything too early, but I still want our stuff to meet us when we get there.”

My head snapped up.

Say what now?

Mom’s face fell at my dumbfounded expression. “You don’t want to come with me?”

Blinking a few moments, I let out an excited shriek and jumped on her. “Yes! Yes! I do, Mama!”

Thus ending our little miscommunication.

Undressing, I spray my body with deodorant for a good thirty seconds before tossing the can aside and rummaging for something decent to wear. I settle for a long-sleeved white shirt tucked into black slacks, and add a thin black belt.

Definitely courthouse chic.

Slipping on a pair of low heels, I swipe the sleep from my eyes, release my hair from its ponytail, shake it out, and look at myself in the mirror.

Not bad. It could be a lot worse.

Pursing my lips, I nod my head in affirmation.

It’s going to have to do. I don’t have time right now.

Stepping out of my room, Drew turns to me and does a double take. His blue eyes widen. “You seriously got…” he gestures to my entire body, “…all of that done in not even five minutes?”

Rushing to grab my purse in the kitchenette, I say, “Uh huh.”

He shakes his head, muttering, “I gotta have serious words with my girl. Seriously, though. Who needs two hours to get ready to go to the movies?”

That is a long time.

Finally having located my purse and files, I walk back out to him. “Don’t start anything that’s going to backfire. She only takes so long because she wants to look nice for you.”

Walking to my front door, he scoffs, “I prefer her without all the shit all over her face.”

Stopping in my tracks, I place a hand on my hip and tilt my head. “Have you told her that?”

Drew’s lips purse indignantly.

Just as I thought. No. He hasn’t.

Lifting my brows and pointing my finger at him, I instruct, “You need to tell her that.”

We exit my unit and head out to his car. On the way over to the courthouse, he asks, “You know what you need to say?”

Nodding, I tell him, “It’s straight forward. In and out. Tahlia takes better care of herself than her parents do. And besides that, she’s seventeen. If she wants to be emancipated, I think she’s got a great chance. We’re not talking about a thirteen-year-old here. We’re talking about a seventeen-year-old who left home at fifteen, got a job, and found a place to stay. On. Her. Own. She’s responsible, and…” turning to Drew, I add with a smile, “She’s such a nice girl. So sweet and charming. I think she’s got what it takes to stay out of the system.”

Drew turns back to the road, smiling, “I think this one’s in the bag.”

A shit-eating-grin spreads across my face. “I know.”

I’m giddy.

As soon as we exit the courtroom, I lose my poker face, rush over to Tahlia, and whisper-shout, “Congratulations, honey!”

She laughs quietly and accepts my hug. I hold her tight, smiling all the while.

I love my job.

She mutters into my shirt, “Thank you. Really. Thank you so much.”

Pulling back, I place her hair behind her ear and admit, “It was my pleasure.”

Releasing her completely, I run her through the plan. “So what happens now is that you’re free to do as you please. That is not an invitation for you to have all-nighters and get wasted, you hear?”

Tahlia rolls her eyes. “Yes, mum.”

I chuckle. I love how blunt the Australian accent is.

Smiling, I place my hand on her forearm and squeeze. “You know you can call anytime. Even if it’s not important.” Shrugging, I tell her, “It could be something silly, like advice about a boy, or even what laundry detergent to use for a particular type of stain.” She laughs at me and my smile softens. “Anything, honey. You’re not on my books anymore, but you’ll always be one of my kids.”

The smile drops off her face; her eyes shine bright. She whispers, “Thanks, Miss Ballentine.”

Shaking my head, I utter in complete seriousness, “Oh, no. You’re an adult now. You get to call me Lexi.”

She wipes at her eye to stop the tear before it falls. “Thanks, Lexi.”

Walking backwards towards Drew’s car, I say, “You’re so welcome.”

Drew waits patiently in the driver’s seat playing around on his phone. As I approach the car, I feel him watching me.

Shivers break out over my entire body. My hair stands on end.

Stopping with a jerk, I try to play it cool. I open my purse and make it look as though I’m searching for something important.

My heart races.

Where is he?

I try to look around discreetly. My gaze drifts across the street to one of the many cafés there. My eyes dart around, looking for the familiar black hoodie. And just as I’m about to give up, I see him.

He watches me from under the hood of his jacket, reclining on a café chair.

I know I should report this.

He’s everywhere. And I mean everywhere. It almost seems like he knows where I’m going to be before I know.

His head lifts, and his eyes watch mine.

He never acknowledges me. He doesn’t ever make a move to meet me.

He just…is. Never bothering me.

In fact, seeing him stirs something in me.

He is lodged in my subconscious. The star of my dreams. Which is ridiculous. I know.

His eyes are fierce. Full of fire. I don’t know what to make of it.

Drew yells out, “Ready to go, Lex?”

And I shake my head, realizing I’ve been standing here for close to five minutes just staring at a strange man across the street. Face burning, I reply, “Yeah. Let’s get back to the office.”

My eyes drift back to him.

Just one more peek.

But he’s gone. Like always.

Stalked by a phantom.

I mentally scoff.

Figures.

Arriving at our workplace, I say goodbye to Drew, and accept his four-hundredth congratulations on winning Tahlia’s freedom.

Smiling all the way to my office, I step inside to see someone sitting in my chair.

Well, swinging on it with his feet up on my desk like a millionaire businessman.

“Michael, feet off the desk. Now.”

Using my mom-voice doesn’t really get me anywhere, seeing as I do it with a huge smile on my face.

But Michael’s different. He’s a good boy.

His feet slip off my desk and he smirks. “Got some news for me?”

Shit.

My face falls. And when he sees it, so does his.

Michael is almost seventeen. He has a foster family, but there lies the issue. His mother got out of jail not six months ago, and he wants to live with her again.

But she…

“She doesn’t want me back.” He glares down at his feet.

Walking forward, I place my bag on my desk and take a seat in the visitor chair with a sigh. “Oh, sweetie. It’s not that. There’s more to it than just wanting you back, which she does, by the way.”

He turns his glare to me. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Leaning forward, I look him right in the eye. “I am on your side. Always. Don’t ever question that.”

Looking properly chastised but still pissed, he asks quietly, “Why?”

Leaning back in the chair, I explain, “There’s a huge process when a person comes out of jail. The housing they’re provided is usually not great, and basic as basic comes. Then there’s finding a job. And sticking to it. In your mom’s case, she needs to go to therapy every week, and she’ll have drug tests done on a monthly basis for a while. And honestly, honey…” He looks up. “…she thinks you deserve better. As do I. Her main concern was getting you back for a few months, you turning eighteen, and then going it on your own. Which you will. Won’t you?”

Michael’s face softens. “Yeah. I just need money first.”

A small smile appears on my face. “Okay, then. We’ll find you a job.”

He nods, then asks, “How’d it go with Tahlia?”

The little shi-

He knows I can’t answer that.

Putting on my poker face, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grins, “Yes, you do. Her court thingy was today. And you’re her case worker.”

I shrug casually. “If you want to know anything about Tahlia, I suggest you ask Tahlia.”

Michael’s face turns dreamy. “She’s a hottie. I see her around school, but I never get a chance to talk to her. And I’d like to.”

That’s so sweet. My poker face starts to crumble, “Well, maybe you should make an effort. Ask her out. Go to a movie or something.”

His face becomes stoic. “The only time I’ll ask a girl out is when I can take care of her. And right now, I can’t. So dating isn’t an option.”

God help us. We’ve got a bossy little keeper in the making.

My face softens with a smile. “You’re a good boy, Mikey. We’ll find you a job. And soon.”

Standing suddenly, he picks up his school bag and heads for the door. “Later, Miss Ballentine.”

Turning to the door, I call out, “Later, sweetie.”

As soon as Michael exits, Charlie enters. Charlie is my boss and an awesome guy. He’s Maori, from New Zealand. So he’s this big, tall, thick, olive-skinned man, but his voice is so sweet and high-pitched, it’s like talking to a lamb in a lion suit.

“Got time for a word, Lex?”

I motion him forward. “Sure thing. What can I do for you?”

Moving to sit behind my desk, he moves to the chair opposite me and hands me a flyer, along with paperwork. Already nodding, I know what this is.

Yearly drug tests.

It’s mandatory in my field. Social work in Australia has a zero-tolerance view on drugs. Which is fine. I don’t do drugs anyways.

Charlie leans forward and says softly, “These are coming early this year. We’ve got a tip that someone in the office has been using.”

At the idea of someone I work with getting caught doing drugs, my scalp tingles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Wide-eyed, I whisper, “Oh.”

Charlie nods at my reaction. “Exactly. We’re thinking of making them biannual, rather than annual. Make sure we keep people on their toes.”

I nod in full agreement. “If people are starting to be lax, that might be a good idea. Especially if one of ours is using.”

The idea of one of my kids being led by a person taking drugs makes me mad.

A lot of these kids have seen too much wrong in the world, and most of it has been caused by drugs. I want to protect them. I want them to have the childhood that I didn’t get. I want to be there to pick them up when they’re down.

But I need to be careful.

And I will be careful.

As much as a person with a stalker can be.

Driving home, I listen and sing along to the radio.

Knowing I have nothing, and I mean nothing, in the refrigerator to cook, I stop by a drive-thru restaurant and get a burger meal.

Pulling up to my unit building to park in my normal spot, I frown. The spotlights above the parking bay are both out. Normally, one works while the other is waiting to be fixed. I sit in my car a moment.

They were both fine last night.

Discreetly locking my car door, I look around the lot. Nothing seems out of place.

So why is my heart racing?

You’re scaring yourself.

Huffing out a humorless laugh, I run my hands down my face. I really am scaring myself. The lights are out and I’m really wound up. Shaking my head at myself, I sigh and unlock the car door. On my way out, I reach over the seat to pick up my meal.

“Shit!”

I drop my drink and it spills all over my car seat.

Growling, I reach across the middle of the seats to the back where I always keep a gym towel. Finding it, I throw the sweaty towel on the seat and try to soak up as much as I can. Backing out of the car, a hand comes around my mouth while another cinches around my waist. Tightly.

Heavy breathing in my ear. “You scream and I’ll fuck you bare. I’ve got AIDS, bitch. You want AIDS?”

Trying my best to keep calm, I shake my head quickly, and he laughs at the side of my face.

He smells bad. Really bad. Putrid.

He says, “You’re going to come with me. You’re not going to fight. You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t ya?”

Closing my eyes, I nod. But as he pulls me down the side of the building, I begin to cry. The tears fall down my face while my body shakes, trembling in fear. I can’t help it. I know I said I wouldn’t fight but I dig my heels in and claw at his arms. I don’t want him to get me somewhere dark and out of sight.

This is a big man. A man I could never take on by myself. Knowing this, I cry harder.

I cringe in disgust when his warm wet tongue licks the side of my face, very slowly. “Oh, shush. You’ll like it. I promise.”

I won’t like shit, you twisted fuck!

He demands, “Close your eyes.”

I don’t listen. I’m being defiant. My eyes remain open.

Then he pushes a blade into my side. Deep. I feel the tip pierce my skin, and I whimper into his dirty hand. “Close your fucking eyes, bitch.”

My body quaking, I shut my eyes and feel his free hand try to tug my pants down. The belt stops that from happening and he barks, “Undo the belt and the pants. Now.”

My shaking hands work slowly, buying time, but I can only do it so long before my hair is tugged, hard. I cry out in pain. The blade disappears a moment before he wraps his forearm around my neck, hand clutching the knife tight, and he moves the blade to rest under my ear. Somehow, in my trembling state, I manage to undo the belt and buttons. He turns me around to press my cheek into the cold bricks on the side of the building, the blade now resting by the side of my throat. Yanking my pants down, he reaches forward then down, and instinctively, I snap my legs shut. His fingers work their way into the juncture between my thighs and he rubs my mound through my panties, making me cry out loudly. His erection presses into my ass cheek, and I cringe so hard my body shudders.

I’m disgusted. This is disgusting.

Tightening his arm around my neck, he hisses, “Shut your mouth and don’t make a fucking sound.” His smell all around me, crying as hard as I am, I gag.

His hand leaves my most intimate place, comes up under my shirt, and squeezes my breast.

My heart weeps with every revolting touch. He fondles my body as he likes, as if I were a toy and not human at all. Sliding his hand down my ribs, he rests it on my hip a moment before he utters, “Oh, man. You’re a pretty one.” He then slips his hand down the back of my panties, squeezes my ass cheeks hard, and my body jerks with every loud, muffled sob.

I’ve never been violated. But I work with people who have. And now I know that every single time I said the words I understand to one of my kids, I didn’t.

Not even close.

I can almost feel my heart shatter.

Suddenly, I’m pulled back harshly. I land on the hard concrete with a dull thud and watch the scene before me in alarm.

My large attacker gets his face slammed into the bricks at the side of the building by an equally tall man.

The black hoodie.

It’s him.

He holds onto my attacker’s neck and throws his head down while he brings up his knee.

Thunk, thump.

He does this again and again. My gut revolts at the level of ferocity before me. Eventually, I hear soft pings hit the ground and realize my attacker has lost some teeth.

Oh God.

The man in the hoodie continues his wordless assault. He throws my attacker on the ground and kicks him in the ribs as if he were kicking a football. He does this a few more times before his eyes catch me.

Breathing heavily, he stops and comes towards me.

Petrified, I watch him come towards me through blurry eyes. He’s almost at my feet when I whisper shakily, “Please, stop. Don’t come any closer.”

My elbows throb; the skin on them surely gone. I try to scramble backwards and cry out in pain.

That’s when he does something I’ve been wishing for forever.

He lowers the hood.