I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he stepped closer to me, his hands pushing forward any obstructions in his way so he could reach me. His nostrils flared with rage and I shrunk back into the corner of the hotel room, knowing I was stuck. He could taste my fear and it empowered him, especially while he was this drunk. It's not like I wasn't used to it by now, but with each bruise, the experience never got any easier.

His jet black hair shimmered with the light peeking through the curtains. The sun was setting, and when night finally came, it would make it harder for anyone to see him beating me through the hotel window. The television in the room blared at full volume in the background, making it almost impossible for anyone in the next room over to hear the whimpers of pain that never failed to escape my mouth. He knew this, and it made him almost smile in triumph.

There was a light breeze then, and the air flowed in through the crack in the sliding glass door, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Brian slowly stepped toward me, and with each passing second, I realized that I'd never seen him this angry. I knew he'd gotten particularly wasted that night, and I knew that his temper flared up tremendously after consuming a little alcohol. But he hadn't consumed a little alcohol that night, he'd gotten full out wasted.

And for that reason, I'd never been more scared in my life. Not when I'd been sent to my first foster home where everything seemed like an absolute nightmare, and certainly not by Brian.

When he finally took the last step and his rough hands closed around my wrists, I felt absolutely repulsed by his smell. He reeked of Jack Daniels, smoke, and something else I couldn't quite pin point.

"Where is your mother, Rebecca?" His lips twitched into a snarl and I tried to force myself to stand up straight, looking right back at him. I'd learned from experience that staying silent when he asked me a question would never work out well, but I'd always be screwed because whenever my mouth opened, sarcasm flowed out in waves.

"Dead."

He slammed his foot down on the carpeting of the hotel floor, and I'd be surprised if the people underneath didn't feel the roof crumbling above them. His hands slammed my wrists on either side of my head, and between his tight grasp on my wrists and the force he'd used slamming them against the wall, I knew there'd be multiple bruises there in the morning. "I'm going to ask you one more fucking time, Rebecca, and you and I both know it would be in your best interest to give me a real answer. Where is your god damn mother?"

I assumed he was referring to my so-called adoptive mother, who'd been my step-mother before my dad passed away. I always liked the woman, she seemed kind and she and my dad definitely had chemistry, so I'd accepted her into my life at the time. I didn't know, however, that she was weak and a fucking coward, and by adopting me, she was only introducing me to more misery. "I don't know, Brian."

He growled at me, forcing his body closer to mine as his knee came up in between my legs, elevating me higher on the wall. "Bullshit. Why do you protect her? She certainly doesn't return the favor for you."

"I'm not fucking protecting her. I honestly don't know where she is and I don't give a shit." I wasn't lying, the truth was she never told me where she was going, and when she did, it was almost always a lie. She lied because she was scared of Brian, and she feared being honest with me or helping me at all because she knew what he was capable of. She'd seen him do it to me.

The one thing I'd learned from the multiple times Brian had stumbled home drunk was to never tell him to stop. I could spit back at him all I liked, because he didn't mind a little verbal retaliation, in fact, I think he enjoyed it. I'd tried every approach to dealing with his beatings. I had tried staying quiet with my head tilted down so he couldn't seen my tears; that was my approach the first time it happened. I didn't know how to deal with it and I was scared out of my mind, not yet having built a shell to guard my true emotions from him. The second time wasn't so bad because I'd focused all my attention on him, which is what he wanted, but I'd gotten really angry and tried to push him off, which was quite possibly the worst thing I could have done in that situation. He didn't like anyone telling him no, let alone to stop, and I wouldn't ever say that four letter word again.

"So you let her leave without telling me?"

I shook my head. "Brian, I wasn't even here."

His eyes narrowed in anger then, and he shifted his knee higher in between my legs, making me grit my teeth in pain. "You were supposed to be here. Didn't I tell you not to leave?"

"What? No.. you haven't said a word to me today.." As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized it was a mistake. The one thing he hated almost more than people telling him no was people telling him he was wrong.

"Are you calling me a fucking liar? Choose your words carefully, Rebecca, because I'm not very happy with you right now."

I sighed, lying to appease him. "You're right Brian. You did, but you also told me to do your laundry."

His hands twisted around my wrists and he pulled me forward, only so he could push me against the wall again, inflicting more pain in my back and my head. "Did I tell you to leave this room?"

I stuttered, knowing he was on the edge of really hurting me. What could I say? "You told me to do your laundry... there's no washer in here.." I barely whispered in response, my eyes lowering from his ice-cold steel ones.

"So you make do. You left and you let your mother leave with you, and now she's out there fucking another piece of shit because of you."

If I was in any other situation, I might've laughed, fairly certain he'd just called himself a piece of shit. I wasn't arguing. Not knowing what to say in response, I stayed silent, though I knew it was the exact opposite of what I should have done. He lost his temper then, twisting my wrists back so it felt as if they might break. His hand suddenly came up and slapped me across the cheek, and I looked up briefly to see him staring down at me with fury.

The odd thing was, he wasn't like this all of the time. When he was sober, he was one of the nicest people I'd ever met. He'd buy me anything I asked for, excluding a car, he'd make me breakfast sometimes before school, and occasionally he'd look at me with eyes that I swore seemed almost apologetic. He never apologized though, in fact, when he was sober, he never even acknowledged the many times he'd beaten me. I was adopted last year, but in Brian's household, a year felt like an eternity. He found himself in a bar with his low-life friends almost every night, and came barging into my room equally as frequent. So though he had originally seemed like a cool guy, I soon realized there was a very different side of him that would make my life a living hell.

I wriggled out of his grasp, knowing that fighting him would be a bad idea, but I couldn't do nothing. I'd never seen him this mad, or drunk, and I didn't want to stick around to find out just how abusive he could become. I tried to run away from him, but he grabbed my wrist and reeled me back around. His body pressed against mine on the wall and I whimpered as one hand pulled my hair slightly and his other hand trailed down to the waistband of my jeans.

My eyes widened in horror. He'd never, ever, sexually abused me, and I didn't think it would ever come to that. But now, with him standing in front of me and his hand on my stomach, I realized what he was thinking of doing.

"Please Brian.. this isn't you..."

He got angry and slammed my head against the wall, nearly making my body go limp as I felt the blood trickling down from my forehead. "Don't fucking tell me who I am or are not. Maybe this would be good for you... teach you a little discipline."

"Rape is not discipline, it's a fucking crime Brian. Please.. p-put me down.."

I could feel his hand moving downwards, pressing into the seam of my jeans where the two pantlegs met. I closed my eyes, fighting internally with myself inside my head, before pulling back and kicking him where I knew it'd hurt the most. He crumpled down in front of me, hunched over as I pushed his dirty hand off of me and ran. I didn't get very far before he was pushing me against the hotel room door, my head being repeatedly banged so much I'd be surprised if I didn't get a concussion.

"Where the fuck did you think that was going to get you Beca?"

I gulped, staying quiet as he kicked at my feet, spreading my legs apart. His hand fumbled with the belt on his jeans and I shook my head, fighting back the tears as I tried to pull myself up from his grasp. I used all the strength I had left in my body and pushed him back far enough to reach the vase on the TV stand, crashing it overtop of his head. He cursed, reaching to where I'd drawn blood but I'd already escaped out the door before he could finish what he started.

My feet carried me away from the hotel room, downstairs toward the lobby. I slipped inside the public bathroom before anyone in the lobby could see my appearance and question me about it. I would never let anyone find out about the abuse because, after some possible investigating and court to undo the adoption, I'd be sent back into the system.

And I didn't care how bad Brian was, I was never going back.

My eyes were wide and bloodshot, my hair a mess, my mascara smudged because of a few tears in the corner of my eyes, and I had blood running down my face. I quickly picked up a wet paper towel and wiped it away, making sure I looked like a semi-presentable human being before walking back out into the lobby. I felt absolutely putrid; I could still feel Brian's rough, masculine hands gripping me and his smell was still overwhelming my senses.

I needed something to get rid of the pain.

I instinctively reached to the back of my pocket, my fingers brushing over the ID I'd been given by my old foster-brother. He was a terrible kid, not that our foster-mother knew, but I didn't mind because his handy work got me into bars undetected and I'd be able to push away the pain. It would never solve my problems, but it would at least make the night better.

I wasn't like Brian. I honestly didn't enjoy drinking, and if I wasn't searching for an escape from the horrible state he left me in after every beating, I wouldn't even touch alcohol. But nothing else seemed to do the trick, and I didn't want to deal with the pain while sober.

My feet dragged me towards the bar in the hotel lobby almost immediately. This was supposed to be a vacation. I was supposed to be able to do what I want; it was supposed to be an escape from Brian before I had to confine myself in his house for the next year. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work out that way. I suppose Brian saw our vacation as an opportunity to ingest more alcohol than he already did on a daily basis, in turn making my time here even worse.

I finally reached the bar, entering through the glass doors. It was fairly empty, seeing as it was quite early in the night and I assumed that most people were out having dinner. I knew I looked older than seventeen so getting people to believe that I was old enough to drink wasn't all that challenging. Most of the time, anyway.

I sat down at the bar and the tender walked up to me, lowering his eyes. "ID?"

I didn't bother looking up at him, before reaching in my back pocket and taking out the ID that my former foster-brother had made. His eyes scanned over it briefly, before flickering back down to me. He took a few moments, but he finally nodded.

"What can I get you?"

***

The bar began to fill shortly thereafter. The quiet environment I'd been drinking in quickly faded away, replaced by the loud chatter of people around me. I mostly stayed to myself at the very edge of the bar, but I'd kept my eyes on a blonde almost the entire night. She sat at the center of the bar with her hands folded around a beer and something about her made it almost impossible for me to draw my eyes away. Maybe it was just the fact that I was beyond buzzed and probably would've found any girl that walked in attractive, but as I took a swig of my own beer, I had to watch her.

Her golden blonde hair fell around her in long waves, and her piercing green eyes stared straight ahead at the bartender every time he returned to give her another beer. She was sitting down and I hadn't seen her walk in, but I would've guessed her to be on the taller side, maybe five foot eight or nine. As my eyes roamed up and down her body, hers suddenly caught mine, stopping me. She smirked, but never once left her seat.

When ten o' clock rolled around and she was still sitting there, playing with the same beer she'd been working on for the past two hours, I felt the need to get up and make my way over to her. I knew I shouldn't, after all she was probably in her mid twenties and I was a seventeen year old with a dangerous... well with a dangerous Brian hovering over my back. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop myself from slipping into the seat next to her, immediately feeling trapped as her gaze shifted to mine.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to stare?" she barely muttered, taking a very small sip of her beer. Her eyes shifted to mine, and I couldn't help but to think to myself that no, she never did because she didn't have the chance.

"It's hard to stay polite when you're the one I have to keep my eyes off of."

I watched as her lips curled up, and she laughed lightly. "Wow, you've got mad game. What's your name?"

"Rebecca," I said, but then I looked over at her, letting my hair fall around me. "But you can just call me Beca if you like."

She shook her head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to pick me up. The second step is always to make them feel special.."

I smirked and shook my head. " I just don't like my full name."

She nodded. "Why? I've always loved the name Rebecca.

I just looked over at her, searching her piercing eyes that I could tell held curiosity and if I didn't know any better, possibly lust. When I didn't respond, her voice filled the air around us. "You know, you don't exactly look old enough to be in a bar."

I eyed her carefully. "I suppose that'll be a good thing for me in a few years."

"How old are you?"

My eyes lowered and I smiled, remembering how our conversation had started. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to ask a woman her age?"

She just brushed her hair out of her face, looking over at me with a cocked eyebrow. She was waiting for my answer.

"Twenty-one," I said, following the age my fake license claimed me to be.

She didn't speak for a while, but when I never left she finally looked over at me questioningly. "You've been here for a long time. Are you waiting for someone?"

I shook my head. "No. You've been nearly as long as I have, are you waiting for someone?"

She looked down, frowning slightly. "I was.. but I'm not anymore."

I frowned back, thinking that this woman certainly did not deserve to be stood up by someone who was probably in a few leagues below her. "They're stupid."

"What?"

"Whoever stood you up. They're stupid."

Her voice stayed quiet after that. I looked down, suddenly feeling a small pain in the back of my head where Brian had hit me. The woman, who I still didn't know the name of, looked over at me and furrowed her eyebrows.

"You're bleeding."

I immediately brought a hand up to my nose where I'd been bleeding before. I don't know why it decided to act up again, but I quickly found a tissue and tilted my head back.

"Nose bleed," I said, laughing nervously. "Get them a little too often."

I watched as her eyes scanned my face, and when they lingered a little too long I almost smiled. "So tell me, why are you here waiting for a guy who probably isn't worth your time, when you could have just as well picked up anyone in this bar hours ago?"

"Well I was about to leave," the blonde said, her eyes roaming over my body and then back up to my face. "But then something else caught my eye."

Was this woman straight or not? She certainly never denied that she'd been stood up by a guy, but the look she was giving me told me otherwise.

"Is that right?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "Mhm." I realized that although the alcohol I'd consumed had gotten rid of most of the pain, I could still feel Brian's hands gripping my wrists and I could still feel his touch on my thigh. I cringed, suddenly feeling as if I could smell him. I realized that there really was only one thing that could get his scent out of my nose and his touch off of my body.

The woman seemed just as interested in taking our friendly conversation one step farther as I was. I stood up, reaching in my back pocket to pull out the cash I'd taken from Brian's wallet earlier. He beat me half to death, the least he could do was pay for the mess he left me in every night. I put a few large bills on the counter for the bartender and he nodded, and then I turned to look at the woman beside me.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you around."

She quirked and eyebrow at me. "Leaving so soon?"

"Did you want me to stay?"

I watched as she shook her head no, standing up as well. She reached in the small purse she was carrying and put a considerably less amount of money on the table than I had. I knew I'd consumed way more alcohol throughout the night than she had. Now that we were standing at a closer proximity to each other, I could almost make out a faint scent of vanilla, though I didn't think it was vanilla because the smell had a flowery hint to it.

I could feel her watching me and I wasn't sure where to go from here. I wanted to kiss her desperately, in fact I wanted to do more than kiss her, but despite her previous comment, I wasn't sure if she wanted me to. "Got anything special planned for the rest of the night?" I asked, and she cocked her head in response.

"Not at the moment. Though there's certainly one thing I'd like to be doing."

"What's that?"

She just smiled, walking out of the bar. I trailed not far behind her because I couldn't let the woman walk out just like that. She was playing a game of fetch with me, like she enjoyed teasing me and forcing me to run after her. I closed my hand around her wrist and pulled her into me, stopping her just short before my feet. "You're really not going to leave me like that, are you?"

Her eyes, which strikingly reminded me of some sort of gem, an emerald perhaps, twinkled and I could tell she was definitely interested in me. I decided that I needed this to happen tonight, not only to help me forget about what had happened in my hotel room earlier but also to stop me from going upstairs so early. I couldn't return to the hotel room when I knew Brian was probably there waiting for me.

"Like what?" she asked, knowing full well that I wanted to kiss her at that point. She was teasing me, and I'd almost had enough. I stepped closer to her and she stepped back, so I stepped closer again and she stepped back. This continued until she turned and began walking up the stairs in the center of the lobby, and I trailed after her, unwilling to let her walk away so easily. I