Chapter 145 Wrong Kind of Dancer
I thought I had finally had a normal life with Rick and our baby. I had something solid and happy. I was getting over the fucking rape! I was getting back to normal and getting out of the house, even if it was only to work.
My pulse spikes. I'd hoped Olivia was home safe by now! They don't need a fucking teenager! That's fucking illegal!
I blink. Yep. I'm an idiot. What they are doing right now is also fucking illegal. However, I'm 21 and they could argue I'm of legal age where Olivia is not. They won't get in as much trouble with me only because I'm older. And they can lie and say I chose to do this.
Suddenly, he grabs me by my arm, again! Trying to yank it out of its sockets. I swear, one day karma is going to kick his ass for me!
I stumble after him, trying to keep up with his fast pace, but it's really no use. The only reason I'm not fighting back is I'm scared what they will do to me. I can't let them hurt me, not with my baby so vulnerable right now.
I'm suddenly thrust on a stage with a bright light fucking blinding me. I've been in the dark for so long, I can't see anything!
I blink rapidly, trying to see anything. When it finally comes clear, I snarl. What! The! Fuck!
I there is a pole in the center of the stage, along with a cage and a rope and a trapeze. Fucking great! I'm going to be a one-woman circus! They brought me here for their entertainment. What else would I be expecting?
I'm not a fucking pole dancer!
It's not like I don't know how! It's a lot like ballet, only a lot less graceful, and used to treat women as objects. I'm not going to shame women who do this for a living, but it's not my cup of tea.
Suddenly, music with loud base pounds into my ears and lights flash across the stage. I want to run away and hide. I want to fucking tear this place apart and save others form the same fate. But how the hell do I do that?
I look around and hear yelling form the darkened audience telling me to get my ass moving. Is that supposed to be my fucking cue? Why don't these idiots go to an actual strip club? I'm sure they will find actual willing participants!
I want to rage and scream. I want to break down and cry! But instead, I think of my baby. I can do this.
I rush up to the pole and swing my legs around. I move my hips and twirl around, swaying my body in a way that doesn't feel natural.
I gyrate my hips and swing my legs around. I twirl and spin; slide and glide; flip and lift; Anything to keep my mind busy and off the fact grown men are out in the audience paying Dean Kingston for the opportunity to leer at my body.
I can hear the cheers and jeers in the background. I can smell the alcohol and clinking of glasses, but I push it to the back of my mind and focus on 'dancing' so they don't do something worse than just fucking watch!
I fucking hate this. I'm not this kind of dancer. I don't even know if I'm doing this right! I know the moves, but the go against everything I feel is natural to me.
I close my eyes, pretending I'm in front of Rick instead of his filthy father and his stupid friends as I let the music take over. I dance. I move. I pretend that I'm anywhere but here. I am pretty good at pretending.
I dance and dance and let my body do whatever the hell it wants to. As long as I don't hear any complaints I keep moving, grinding, sliding, twisting, bending in ways that make me really uncomfortable.
I don't know how long I dance for, but my body is covered in sweat and I'm panting and exhausted by the time the music stops.
I collapse on the floor and cry in the dark. I don't know what else to do. I know they want to break me, but I'm not going to let them. No matter what, I'm going to hold on until Rick finds me.
They really have the wrong kind of dancer.