Unbreakable Bonds (book 2)

Chapter two| Alisha

"Please. Stop," I plead after he removes his dirty hand from my mouth.

He smiles, but it is the wrong sort. This man runs on hostile malice instead of any form of positive feelings. Sharp pain lances through my head and colorful spots flash in front of my eyes as his fist hits my face. The moment he lets go of me, I fall to the floor like a bag of potatoes. He takes hold of my clothing, drags me away from the wall, and drops me on my back. The hard, chilled concrete makes me shiver, but when he bends and his palms touch my breasts through the fabric of my dress, and they move south, my mind and body scream. Please, no!

A sudden loud bang makes him jump up and turn to scan the alley. I take this opportunity and roll on my side. Pain spears through me, and I stop crawling when his boots connect—full force—with my back repeatedly. I grunt in agony while his dark, evil laugh fills the air.

After what feels forever, he whispers, "I'll see you later, doll face."

Footsteps retreat, and I try to move, but every movement causes a muscle or bone to ache. I keep still as the deep, warm, nauseating pain throbs inside my body. I attempt to collect them, but there are too many too fast. They come in waves, and when they increase in intensity, I hold still and inhale and exhale slowly until they wane. There is no blood, but my everything hurts with every breath. It is as if a nail bomb is exploding in my innards. Gradually, a black mist swirling at the edges of my mind takes over, and I let it draw me into sweet oblivion.

"No!" I shoot out of bed and hit the light button on my nightstand. My breathing is high, and tears beg to be released, but I push them away. I will not cry. I slide off the mattress, walk towards my kitchen, and turn on the coffee machine. While the espresso pours into the cup, I glance up and huff: 3 a.m. Just great.

A long, exhausting sigh leaves my lungs when the clock hits nine. Time to get ready for work. A loud knock on the door causes my heart to leap out of my chest. Goddammit. I'm in my house, and nobody is here. Stop being so goddamn jumpy. It doesn't matter how hard I scowl at myself—my body keeps disobeying me. My muscles tense when the intrusive sound repeats itself.

"Alisha Alexandra McQueen, open up. We know you're home."

Hearing the familiar voice, I hurry over and swing the door open.

"Jeez, give a girl time. I was in the bathroom."

My two best friends stand next to each other. Emma places her hands on her hips, and stares straight into my eyes, while Bella, my artistic friend, wanders into my living room, and takes a seat on the couch, crossing her right leg over her left.

I close the door after Emma walks in. She stops by the redhead and speaks, "So, how are you doing?"

I roll my eyes. "Both of you. Stop asking me that stupid question every single day. I'm fine, look," I say, making a pirouette.

"We're not here to analyze your outfit," Emma says with frowned brows.

"How are the nightmares?" Bella asks.

"I don't have them anymore."

Two pairs of eyes glare at me in disbelief. "Bullshit! You can't fool us! You're not yourself."

I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at Emma. "God, is your son sharing his testosterone with you? Because your courage is skyrocketing, girlfriend."

My pregnant friend laughs and places her hand on her growing belly. "Alisha, tell me the truth. Did you sleep last night?"

I huff. "A few hours. But if you'll excuse me, I must go to work. Amanda is waiting in the store."