Little Liars

Facing the devil

I awoke to the smell of pancakes and an empty bed. I padded barefoot into the kitchen where Dean was cooking, his hair a mess of sex and sleep. He was wearing nothing but boxers and I saw how toned his body was.

"Morning," he smiled at me.

"Hey," I murmured.

"Hungry?" he asked as he piled up some pancakes onto a plate. No man has ever cooked for me before.

"Uh, sure," I croaked. I cleared my throat and sat awkwardly at his bench, picking at my pancakes. They were delicious but I hardly tasted them. 

Dean pulled up a stool and sat next to me, eating his pancakes ravernously. It was nearly eight o'clock. He wolfed down his food in a matter of seconds and I had barely touched mine. Eat, I told myself. After ten minutes i had finished breakfast and Dean was cleaning up. 

"Listen, I just wanted to say that I don't normally do what I did last night," Dean said as he dried the last plate. 

"Okay," I said as my brows knitted together.

"I have work at nine, do you want me to drive you home or anything?" he offered. 

"Uh, maybe just into town, I'll walk from there," I said softly. 

"Okay," Dean smiled and he leant across the bench and kissed my forehead. I blinked a few times and looked down into my lap. 

Dean walked around to my side of the bench and tipped my chin up so I was looking into his beautiful face.

"What's wrong?" he said, his brow furrowed. 

"Nothing, I just - forget it," I said shaking my head. I tried to get up but he grabbed my arm to make me stay. 

"It's okay, you can tell me," he said, worry was etched across his face.

"You don't even know me," I said flatly. "Why do you care?"

"Maybe I don't know you, but maybe we could change that," he said with a small smile.

"No one knows me," I muttered and with that I wriggled free and wandered back to his room to collect my things. 

At quarter to nine I jumped out of Dean's car and thanked him for the ride. He smiled curtly and drove off into the distance. I sat at a park bench and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. As I inhaled I felt myself calm down, welcoming the familiar sickly feeling.

I slowly wandered down the streets until I came to a dingy house with a battered commodore in the driveway. I opened the broken fly screen and wandered inside my house. 

"Where the fuck were you?" my step-dad slurred as he staggered into the hall. 

"Out," I replied curtly. He was a good man - until my mother died. After that he couldn't bare to be in the same house because everything was tainted so we moved to a new town and now he's abusive. I'm just waiting to get enough money so I can move out.

"Out?" he bellowed. "Out being a slut no doubt."

I didn't reply and he staggered towards me. I looked up at him as his hand gripped my upper arm. 

"Were you out being a little slut?" he spat. I didn't reply. "You know that you're mine and no one elses."

He wrenched my gaze back up to his as he pressed his lips forcefully against mine. He tasted like beer and despair. 

"Little bitch," he muttered as he walked away. I stood there numbly. I heard a loud thump and I walked slowly into the kitchen. Mark was passed out on the floor. I sighed in relief and wandered to my room, closing the door behind me. I climbed into bed and lay there until I, too, passed out.