Scarred

twelve-1

twelve

Nya heard noise coming from the apartment and assumed that Archer was coming back. It was about b****y time, she thought, and wriggled again. Battering the chain off the headboard, she hoped to convey her irritation and anger. He’d probably ignore her; he was good at that.

Being used to keeping people captive, people who screamed and made a racket, Archer was no novice, which would be why he’d put the gag around her mouth because he knew she wasn’t beyond calling his name on repeat until he was forced to address her.

Just as she suspected, there was movement in the apartment, footsteps, except they weren’t as heavy as she expected from Archer and now that she thought about it, no one had slammed the door. There was no scuffle. Whoever it was, they were alone. But she couldn’t figure out what the entrant was doing. Sound didn’t carry well in here with the doors closed.

“Archer!” A female called out from the living room. “Are you home, honey?”

Oh God, here she was, strapped to a bed, helpless, and one of his exes had probably just rocked up looking for a good time. Nya could handle whoever it was under normal circumstances, but her dignity was in the toilet right now and first impressions were everything when trying to scare off the competition.

Staying quiet, she hoped whoever this woman was, that she would disappear or maybe that serendipity would be shining on her and Archer would come back before Nya was found here.

Hope was dashed when the footsteps came closer and the door opened. The woman who stepped inside, tall, blonde, sleek, with a voluptuous fake chest, wasn’t what Nya would’ve expected from Archer’s range of exes.

“Well,” said the blonde, c*****g a hip and drumming her shocking pink nails against it. “There’s hope for my boy yet. This is some kinky shit.”

The woman came over, observing Nya’s form, and Nya stayed still. She didn’t want to struggle. All she could do was maintain wild eye contact and beg that the woman would show her mercy.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the woman’s pink dress rode up, showing the lace tops of some fancy white stockings. The visitor leaned over and began to untie the knot that was balled against Nya’s cheek.

“So, sweetheart,” the blonde said. “I’m his mother, Ester, who are you?”

The gag was loosened and Nya gasped for breath, both out of necessity and shock—this was his mother? “Girlfriend,” Nya said, trying to control her panting. “Nya.”

Ester’s eyes trailed down her body, taking a measure of her son’s girl. “And he just left you here? Why have you got your clothes on?”

So she thought this was a s*x game, maybe some sort of power play, kinky for sure. “He’s pissed at me,” she said. “Insists this is how he can keep me safe.”

“Oh,” Ester said, running her hand over the edge of the nightstand. “Then where the f**k is the key?”

“Dresser,” Nya said, pointing to the unit beside the door with her chin.

Ester got up and went over to retrieve the key. Holding it up in triumph, she spun around to eye Nya again. “Now, you’re not bullshitting me, are you? He’s not looking for some kind of information from you, is he? ‘Cause all you have to do is tell him and he’ll cut you loose. He’s like that. He keeps his word.”

“If he was, I’d be chained to the bathroom,” Nya said, shaking her head to get rid of the hair that had fallen into her mouth. “It’s a really long story.”

“I bet it is,” Ester said, crossing to lean over and slip the key into the lock, giving Nya an eyeful of the woman’s generous breasts as they hung near her eyes.

The lock snicked free and Nya sat up, rubbing her wrists. Taking a deep breath, she rolled both hands to lessen their ache. “Thank you.”

“What’s that?” Ester asked, snatching her hand to pull it upwards so she could examine her mark.

“I told you,” Nya said. “I belong to him.”

Ester smiled as she traced her fingers over the shape. “You’re not pissed about this?”

“Pissed about it?” Nya asked, standing up to press her fingertips against it. “It’s my favorite part of my body.”

“You and me are gonna get along, I can tell already.” Ester took her hand and linked their arms to draw her out of the room. “Now, let’s find the liquor.”

Nya cooked for them both and they drank what they found with Ester consuming the lion’s share. Nya did her best to make it appear that she was drinking, but she’d always been a bit of a lightweight so only sipped, drinking as little as she could.

“He was an asshole,” Ester said, lurching forward to snag the wine bottle from the coffee table. They sat at opposite ends of the couch, both with their feet stretched towards each other. “I mean I thought he was all that. I thought he was so cool. And then, he went and f****d around on me.”

“You don’t deserve that,” Nya said to the slurring woman.

No woman deserved half the things Nya had heard Archer’s mother talk about tonight. Ester had plenty of experience with men. Plenty of stories. But Nya loved listening to her talk, loved her confidence and her joie de vivre. Ester had constant optimism even in the face of all the horrific things that had happened in her life.

“He thought he got one up,” Ester said, sloshing the wine onto the edge of the couch as she poured it. Archer would go mental when he saw that stain later. But Nya just hid her smile behind her glass. She wouldn’t be snitching, he deserved everything he got. Karma worked in mysterious ways. “He told me to pack my s**t, said he wanted me gone by the time he got back from having his smoke.” Ester banged the bottle onto the table with such force that more liquid shot out of the top, creating a puddle on Archer’s pristine coffee table. “I went in that apartment and I threw my s**t in a bag, it took me thirty seconds. Then I went in the bathroom and used a pin to poke holes in all the rubbers I found.”

Ester laughed a wild kind of cackle and ran her hand through her hair when she tipped her head back to gulp down half her wine.

Nya didn’t know whether to be shocked, horrified, or amused. It was clear which one Ester was. “Wow.”

“Thinks he can leave me for some dumb little nineteen year old b***h, that’ll show ‘em,” Ester said and polished off the wine after her next breath.

“I guess it will.”

This woman could handle her alcohol; she’d already drunk one bottle and was on to the second. But she could down it flat, without pausing to breathe, it was quite impressive.

“Do you use rubbers?” Ester asked, pointing her glass at Nya, who shook her head.

“No, we… we don’t.”

Ester’s head went up and down making her voluminous hair bounce in radiant waves. “You trust him, that’s good,” she said, sort of melting off the couch when she reached for the bottle again. Except she turned it, read the label, and screwed up her face. “He must have something stronger than this.”

Ester used both the couch and the coffee table to push herself onto her feet.

Nya laughed. “Are you okay?”

Ester ignored the concern. “Most women get scared by the size of his c**k,” she called out, her face scrunched like she’d forgotten why she was on her feet.

Nya squeaked when she inhaled. “What?”

“His girlfriends, Archer’s girlfriends, they get freaked out by it. You shouldn’t be freaked out,” Ester said, shaking her head, and picking up the wine bottle. She still stood between the couch and table, searching for the reason for why she was here. “His daddy was hung, seriously hung… There are tricks, you know? For dealing with guys who are well-endowed. I can show you—tell you, I can tell you. Teach you, that’s what I meant.”

Nya wasn’t sure how that would go across with Archer or even exactly what the woman meant. But his mother went off towards the kitchen, with the wine bottle in hand; she slugged from it a couple of times before she opened the first cabinet.

“He hides the hard liquor,” Ester said.

Nya put her glass on the table and was about to respond when the front lock clicked and the door opened. When Archer came in, he made his usual entrance and slammed the door. First, he looked at her, next, at his mother, and then back at her.

“You’re not where I left you, Squirm,” he muttered.

Pissed as she was at where he’d left her in spite of her protests, she could already tell that this experience was going to be payback enough.

“Honey, we have company,” Nya said.

Ester chastised her son. “Who the f**k do you think you are?” she said and tripped over but caught herself on the breakfast bar so she didn’t go down.

“Shut your trap, Ester,” Archer said. “What the f**k are you doing here anyway?”

“Drinking,” she said, holding the wine bottle aloft.

He huffed. “When are you not?” he asked and came in to dump the paper bag that had been hanging in his hand, loose at his side, onto the table.

“I’ve been getting to know your girl,” Ester said, coming out of the kitchen, using the wine bottle as a pointer to indicate Nya. “I like her, she’s good.”

His eyes grew a fraction. “You like her? Goddamnit,” he said. “How much have you had to drink?”

He stomped into the kitchen and Nya got off the couch, she wanted to know what had happened while he’d been out. His scowl wasn’t optimistic but could’ve been caused by his mother as opposed to what he’d been through since he’d left her here.

Nya leaned on the corner of the fridge and watched him begin to make coffee, strong coffee if the number of scoops he put into the machine was anything to go by.

“No more booze,” he said, marching past Nya to get to his mother who was somewhere near the back of the couch. He grabbed the wine bottle and wrestled it away from her to take it into the kitchen.

Nya expected Ester to object, but she didn’t. “She’s pretty,” Esther declared. “You’ve done well, son.”

Archer tipped the wine down the sink and then put the empty bottle on the counter as he glared past Nya at his mother. “Ester,” he warned.

“Got a good figure too,” Ester said.

Nya laughed when Ester’s hands came around her body from behind to cup her breasts, giving them a squeeze and a shake.

Archer’s jaw ticked. “Ester, take your hands off.”

“Oh look, he doesn’t like it,” Ester said, taunting him. “I think he’s jealous.”

“Maybe I don’t want my mother’s hands all over my girl,” he said, coming over to grab Ester’s wrists to pull her hands away from Nya’s body.

“She’s got a pretty face too.” Scooping her hand around to Nya’s opposite cheek, Ester used her free hand to stroke Nya’s hair. “She’s got those big Disney princess eyes, look, look at them!”

Archer had to grit his teeth. “She’s not a f*****g Disney princess.”

“Sure, she is!” Ester exclaimed. “Every woman’s a f*****g Disney princess.” Ester laughed and turned around, happy to stagger away on her own. “Now where’s the music? You used to have a killer sound system, where did that go?”

“I sold it,” Archer said, coming up close to Nya’s side. “How long has she been here?”

“A couple of hours.”

“She let you go?” Nya nodded. “And you didn’t walk out on me?”

“Yeah, imagine that,” Nya said, folding her arms. “I told you I could be trusted.”

“So you stayed to prove a point. Now what?”

“Do you care?” Nya asked, looking up at him. “You said keeping me safe was all that mattered to you. You didn’t care if I loved you or not when the Hexam situation was through, as long as I was alive.”

But there was no apology on his lips. “If I have to choose between your life and your love, I choose your life.” But his hand came up to curl around her chin, forcing her to crane her head back. “But if I can have both, I’ll take it.”

“I’m tired!” Ester exclaimed from the other room. “Tired! Tired! Tired! Time to get some sleep!”