Devotion

Chapter 10: Remember Her

"Keep the change." I hop off the bar stool while  the young waitress clears my plate. For the first few days on the run I didn't stay in one place for more than a day, but now that it's been a week and a day I'm going to try and stay at a motel for just two nights. Unfortunately by the time I checked in at said motel it was so late that all the restaurants in this small town were closed. All except this rundown bar and grill, which is filled with sketchy looking dudes, but again this was my only option unless I wanted to eat vending machine snacks for dinner.

"Let me buy you a drink." A creeper with a long unruly mustache grasps my wrist in his tight hold jerking me back. This is exactly why I didn't want to come to a bar in the first place. Maybe if he wasn't at least double my age, had all his teeth, didn't reek of alcohol, and oh I don't know hadn't already had decades of sexism engraved into his ancient brain that makes him feel entitled to manhandling woman to further his perverted plan I might give him a second glance.

"No thanks." I rip my arm out of his hold resuming my initial plan of going to the restroom. Under any other circumstances I would just wait until I got back to my motel room, but there is no way in hell I would get there before wetting my pants. I knew I shouldn't have chugged that water on the bus ride over here.

Taking a deep breathe, I push the bathroom door open rushing to get my business over with so I can get the hell out of this dump. My shoes resist with each step from a unknown substance dried to the floor that I'm praying is alcohol. I'm in and out of the stall as fast as my bladder allows, but after having held my breathe this long my lungs burn for much needed oxygen. Grimacing I pump a handful of soap into my hands bringing them up to my face so the dreadful stench of the gross bathroom will be masked by a generic floral scent.

I don't even make it two steps out of the bathroom before bumping into someone. Creeper guy from the bar is back again, but this time he brought some friends. Letting out a long tired sigh, I slide over attempting to go around them. His hand wraps around my upper arm this time, and he slams me up against the wall of the hallway.

"Going somewhere darling?" He tilts his head to the side surveying my reaction, frowning when I don't give him the one he wants. His type gets off on seeing fear in the eyes of their victims, but I've now dealt with much bigger monsters than him. I also doubt him or any of the assholes blocking the scene from the rest of the bar are anticipating me knowing how to fight back.

"Fuck off." I pull him closer to me by yanking my arm towards my chest and knee him in the balls. He groans dropping my arm and bracing his hand against the wall his other clutching his crotch. Before I can maneuver around him one of his buddies yanks my hair pulling my head back at an awkward angle.

"Bitch." The second piece of shit whips out a pocket knife pressing the blade to my neck just hard enough to feel the cold metal graze my skin. My options are limited, and I highly doubt anyone else in this bar would help me if I screamed. These men aren't just passing through, they definitely know the owner, manager, and bartender and are on first name basis with all. It would be a he said she said and I would lose.

"My husband is going to kick your ass." If lying out of my ass means I make it out of here alive than that's exactly what I'm going to do. These men are the type to view me being married as playing with someone else's toy without permission. Like I belong to someone else, a silent code between despicable men that lead them to believe they can treat another human as their property. Fucking small ass town backwards mentality.

"Tell me what's missing." He presses me face first into the wall dragging the tip of his knife across my collarbone, to my shoulder, and down my arm marking an 'x' on my ring finger. Shit! Squeezing my eyes shut, I prepare myself for a bloody fight.