Infatuated (Unedited)

Prologue

Originally written in 2012. Unedited. 

THUD

That sound woke me from my dreamless sleep, making my heart take off like a rocket. I've heard many sounds in the last three years of my life but never one such as that. Something inside of me wants to investigate the noise but I know better. I heard the yelling just before I dozed off and can pretty much figure out what's going on. Dalton always came over with an attitude and needs and always left with less stress, having relieved that through punches to my mother's face and violations of my body.

The sound of crying stopped with that thud making me even more curious but also filled me with fear. Did he knock her out this time? Or in some rare twist of fate, did he just stop his abuse? Heavy footfalls echo through the hall before banging ensures on my bedroom door.

"Rayne! Let Daddy in baby!"

I shivered with disgust hearing the title he gave himself, submerging myself deeper into my blankets as if they would somehow make me invisible.

"Come on Raynie Daddy just wants to talk."

Still, I didn't move and had no plan to. My body still hurts from the last time he wanted to talk. The banging grew louder with what sounded like a thunderous growl ripping through the thick wood of my door. It looked like it was about to come off the hinges, scaring me to the point that I jumped out of bed and headed for my window. Glancing over my shoulder at the door, I frantically unlocked my window pushing the glass up with my palms and used my balled up fist to push out the screen. I watched the thin mesh netting hit the ground and split the frame, suddenly doubting this option. I'm on the second floor, maybe a good 20 feet above ground. Jumping won't kill me but damn if it won't hurt. Just as I threw my leg over the side a hand gripped my arm, yanking me harshly off the ledge and onto the bed.

"Where the fuck were you going? Sneaking out the window like some little whore! You're a whore now? I'll show you just how they're treated!"

Dalton grabbed me by my hair yanking me down to the floor as he worked at the buckle on jeans. Sobs resonate within me but I stifle them pressing my lips together tightly. I know what's coming and have been here many times before. He leaned down leveling his eyes with mine and of all things, smiled. It takes a sick bastard to beat on a woman and repeatedly rape her daughter but it gets worse when that sick bastard visibly gets pleasure out of it.

He shook me, held me by my arm and shook me so violently that I could literally feel my brain rattling within my skull.

"Rayne!"

"Rayne!"

"Rayne!" My eyes snapped open as I feel myself actually being shook. Lifting my head up off of my vanity I come face to face with one of the only girls that doesn't cut her eyes at me in this club. A sigh of relief escapes through my nose realizing it was only a dream, just another nightmare and attempt of my past to haunt me. "What were you dreaming about that has you crying?"

Glancing over at the mirror I spot the lone tear rolling down my cheek and swatted it as if just that easily it could be erased from her mind. "N-n-nothing. My eyes do that sometimes when I wake up." I lied, instantly grabbing my make-up brush and tube of concealer. I talk about that part of my life with no one, especially not with any of these catty females that would just use it to gossip about me.

"Well you're on in five."

She walked out of the changing room leaving me alone with my thoughts. That was the most vivid dream I've had in the last three years and could swear it was real. The way he touched me, the depth of his voice, the fear his words put in me...It's almost as if he's reaching out to me through my dreams, in his own way reminding me of where we left off. Taking a sip of the mandatory drink I need before I dance, I feel the weight of those hidden memories slip down my back, replaced by the feeling I have on a regular basis.

Detachment.

I've survived by depriving myself of every feeling there is except for boredom and need this drink to help with that as well. Once I finished off the my vodka and orange juice I made my way to the back of the stage preparing to make someone's night. Regardless of the dream I had and the ominous feeling now dwelling in the pit of my stomach, the past must remain a closed book in order for me to keep moving forward.

Afterall, the show must go on.