chapter 12: breakfast

Willow never tried to help the girl.

She only watched her as she picked herself up from the floor, stood outside the bathroom door as she took way too long of a shower, and handcuffed her to the bed and also laid down, making sure she was as far on the opposite side as possible. She already harbored guilt for snapping so hard at the girl; she didn't want to make her also fear that she was a pervert.

August didn't move all night. She couldn't, really, with her hand handcuffed to the bed frame. "This is just for tonight, after the stunt you pulled. Hopefully, I won't have to do this every night," Willow had quietly told her as she had clicked the handcuffs closed. "But we will have to share the bed every night just as precaution. I'm a light sleeper, so don't try anything."

August never spoke a word to her the rest of the night. She just laid there, eyes closed as she listened to the sound of Willow take a shower, then walk in and lay down on the bed next to her. Willow shifted around the bed for a while, but eventually August was so exhausted and so drained that sleep overtook her, even though the woman next to her was kept up all night, haunted by the image of the younger girl laying crumpled on the floor only an hour before.

"If you don't wake up, my men will eat whatever is left of breakfast downstairs," a silvery voice spoke to her that next morning, waking her up from her slumber.

A throbbing pain in her head caused her to groan slightly, shifting in her bed only to feel her right hand pull against metal. Fluttering her swollen eyes open, she looked up and remembered that her hand was handcuffed to the post. Her eyes shifted back to the woman who stood over her, giving her an emotionless stare that she couldn't read.

"My head hurts," was all August could wobbly speak, closing her eyes again and rubbing her legs together, feeling some sort of comfort come from the soft blankets shifting between her legs.

First hearing a huff of annoyance, she heard the woman's footsteps walk away, and moments later she heard them in front of her again. "Here."

The woman held out two white pills in her open hand, her eyes watching as the girl took the pills, not caring if the woman could have possibly been drugging or poisoning her. Her head must hurt that bad, Willow pondered.

She then handed her a glass of water to wash down the pills, which the girl took with a shaky hand, water spilling from the corners of her mouth and spotting the white pillow sheets around her as she chugged the entire glass down.

Willow stared at the rope burns on the girl's shoulders that had healed slightly. She was wearing the same black tank top and grey sweatpants she wore when she had been taken from her dorm bed.

"I brought your suitcase and some of your clothes," Willow airily spoke, walking around to the other side of the bed where their bags sat on the floor, picking up the girl's dark red suitcase covered in various stickers. "I made you stay in those clothes after your shower last night as a punishment for trying to run away."

As the woman tossed her suitcase onto the bed, August stared at the only thing she had familiarity with. Throwing the empty glass down on the pillow beside her, she reached as far as she could with her free hand to grab the corner of the suitcase and pull it near her, feeling the rough but familiar texture on her fingertips. "That was my punishment?" she asked, her eyes narrowing to a glare towards the woman.

"Among others," Willow coolly spoke, reaching into her pocket and walking towards August's cuffed hand. "I am giving you trust that you don't deserve," she sternly spoke, her eyes not leaving August's as she unlocked the cuff, freeing the girl's aching wrist.

Holding her now free but red wrist close to her chest, August took a deep breath. There were no windows in the room, so she couldn't see what time it was, but she assumed it was morning since the woman had mentioned breakfast.

"Find something to wear, change in the bathroom, and then we are going to go get breakfast. Hurry because I'm starved." The woman strutted away into the living room, where August watched through the open doorway as she picked up the gun off of the table, tucking it underneath her white t-shirt, and slipped into a leather jacket that matched her leather combat boots, effectively concealing the intricate tattoos on her arms.

The carpet between her toes felt pleasurable to the girl as she stood up. Unzipping her suitcase, she opened it to see that the woman had stuffed the suitcase with as many clothes as possible. She even packed her toothbrush, shampoo, and soap. She was determined to not mistake this as some act of kindness by the psycho.

Glancing up at the woman who was absentmindedly scrolling through her cell phone as she leaned against the table, August rummaged through the neatly folded clothes to pick out something much warmer than the tank top she was wearing. She was relieved to see her own clothes; if she would have had to wear some of Willow's clothes, they would have inevitably flooded the small girl.

Picking out a pair of jeans and her favorite light brown sweater, August grabbed her toothbrush, walking into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom as she wished she would've been able to use her own shampoo and soap the previous night. She had to use the woman's cherry blossom scented products. She didn't mind their scent, but she yearned for her French vanilla soap.

She closed the door, noticing there was no privacy lock on the silver handle. She quickly changed into her new clothes, relishing in the hard fabric of denim against her legs. But before she had pulled her jeans all the way up, she noticed bruises on her thighs that had turned a yellow tint on their journey to healing.

Gulping hard, she didn't remember hitting her thighs at any point when Willow had been throwing her around like a mental case the previous night. She wondered what exactly happened after the woman had placed the rag against her nose and forced her into a completely helpless and unconscious state.

Not wanting to think about it, and highly doubting the woman would go to that extreme length, she quickly brushed her teeth, enjoying the minty freshness in her mouth. Placing her toothbrush and old clothes into her suitcase, she pulled out her checkered Vans and slipped into them, them being the only shoes the woman bothered to pack.

She walked into the living room, and the woman's eyes glanced up to the girl. She was slightly startled, this being the first time she hadn't seen the girl looking rough. She was wearing new clothes, and the smell of vanilla perfume lingered in Willow's nostrils as her eyes landed on the girl's glossy, Carmex-covered lips, her dark blue eyes staring back at her as if waiting for something.

Leaning up from the table, the woman cleared her throat and slipped her phone into her pocket, running a hand through her black hair. "C'mon." She held out a hand, one that August didn't know how to take.

The woman went to simply place a leading hand on the girl's shoulder, but the girl flinched, eyes filling with palpable fear. For some reason, it was like there was an invisible screen that Willow's hand halted against, stopping her from touching the girl. She quickly withdrew her hand, not knowing what it was that pained her so to see the flinch on the girl's face. Images of the events from the night before flooded her mind, and suddenly she felt a suffocating feeling rise within her.

She quickly turned away, deciding she didn't necessarily have to hold onto the girl every second. She had no reason to trust her, but something inside her wanted to.

August was shocked that the woman obeyed her silent pleads to not brutally grab her arm the way she did before. She watched as the woman pulled the door open wide, biting her lower lip as she held it open for the girl, keeping her cool green eyes anywhere except the blue eyes that stared right at her.

August stepped through and watched Willow close the door and begin walking. "You're not gonna lock it?" she quietly asked.

"It doesn't lock from the outside," she mumbled in response. "It's a safety precaution. I can always lock myself in, but no one else can lock me in."

August nodded, and Willow walked close beside the girl as they made their way down the eerily empty hallway.

"Most people stay off of my floor," Willow told her as if she had read the girl's thoughts about how idle and silent the hallway was.

They stepped into the elevator, Willow pressing the number 1 and August watching the circular number light up as the elevator doors closed.

"I'm going to give you a little heads up," she began, licking her lips. "My men can be rowdy, and the women are just as likely to try to get a piece of you as the men." Her bouncy black hair fell across her shoulder as she locked eyes with the girl. "But you are not allowed to give them any of your 'pieces.'"

"And why not?" August fearlessly countered, not knowing if she was trying to agitate the woman or if she was genuinely curious.

She found herself at a slight loss for words. Right when she deemed the girl as a nervous little mouse, the girl always suddenly presented herself as a rebellious force that the woman seemed to find herself reckoned with.

"Because I said so," was all she could muster.

"I have free will over my own body." August tried to put a firmness to her words to show her that she was not going to just be ordered around as if she was the woman's possession.

"No, you don't." The tall woman leaned closer, growing bone-chillingly serious as her hard stare loomed over the girl's disaffected one.

"I do, actually. It is my right as an American fucking citizen," she spat, lips taut as she felt the bravery in her chest swell to dangerous sizes.

Anger written across her face, the woman opened her mouth to probably scream, but the opening of the elevator doors interrupted her.

"Miss!" said a group of guys collectively, their eyes all widening to see their leader. August was sure they were all about to get on their knees and start worshipping the woman—either that or suck her dick.

"Good morning!" Willow's tone completely changed as she stepped out of the elevator, August right behind her even though she didn't know if she would be safer with the woman or with the five burly, heavily tattooed men standing near her.

"Breakfast was good?" Willow questioned with a wide smile, shaking each of the men's hands individually.

"As always! Jerry is going to be stacking after our little rendezvous, I tell ya!" one of the men's strident voices spoke, shaking Willow's hand with a firm grip.

"He deserves it, the amazing bastard." She laughed with the man, letting go of his hand and placing her hands in her pockets, her stance more masculine than the brute men all smiling at her.

"Aye, who do we have here?" one spoke with an Irish accent, off-putting to the girl who remembered they were in Utah. She concluded that "surprises" were basically dead at that point; anything could happen without second questioning.

The man wore a green bandana, his chubby face spreading into a grin as he held out an enormous arm with tightening biceps towards the girl, his hand outstretched.

With a slightly fearful stare and not wanting to offend the man who could probably snap her in two, August slowly took his coarse hand, and hers was almost crushed by his grip, her entire arm shaking as he shook her hand almost violently.

"This is August," Willow's smooth voice announced, and August felt a gentle hand slither around her lower back almost possessively, causing more chaos inside of her than did the man who was killing her hand.

Willow, as much discomfort it caused her, placed her hand on the young girl's back to subliminally tell the men that she could not be messed with. It wasn't like she wanted the girl to herself; she simply didn't want to deal with having a traumatized girl on her hands.

The man's eyes noticed the slender hand reaching towards the girl's back, and August could've sworn that she saw one of his blue eyes wink at the woman who stood behind her as he immediately released her hand. "Well, it was nice to meet ya, August." Her name danced with his accent as she peered up at him.

"Have a good day, lads," Willow spoke, turning away and bringing August along with her. But she stopped, turning her head over her shoulder to say, "Oh, and don't forget about that one thing that needs to be done." Her eyes slightly narrowed, and the men all nodded.

"You've got it, boss," said one of the men whose eyes seemed to be searing through August's back.

Willow nodded and then turned back, slipping her hand away from the girl's back and walking further down the hall.

August wanted to ask her why the woman had twice intervened when a man was near, but she felt as if she shouldn't. It was almost as if she was either afraid of the answer or she already knew it. She took a deep breath in, only then fully realizing that she was currently staying in a hotel full of dangerous, murderous gangsters, but even worse—she was under the possession of their leader.

The lobby looked a lot nicer during the daytime, as the entire front of it was glass. Sunshine shone in through the windows, and August enjoyed the sight of it. "What time is it?" she inquired.

"10:30," the woman bluntly replied without looking at any watch or clock, leading August away from the open front of the hotel and through an open doorway where three large, long tables sat.

Women and men in black and white uniforms were cleaning up the various empty plates on the tables, scooting in the chairs and placing dirty silverware and glasses into their square buckets where piles of dirty dishes sat. In the corner were a handful of people sitting, eating breakfast and heartily laughing. The room smelt of bacon and pancakes.

Willow silently led the girl to the table where the people sat. "Miss," they announced in unison, momentarily standing from their seats to greet the tall woman.

"Cornelia!" Willow greeted one woman, shaking her hand and bringing her into a short hug.

"Looking sharp as ever, boss," the blonde woman's throaty voice spoke as she looked up at Willow. "Pretty late for breakfast, though. Had a fun night?" Her eyes darted over to the girl. "Heard you and this pretty one shared a room."

August's cheeks burned at the woman's words. Was that all these people thought about? Sex?

"Watch it, C," Willow smirked, letting go of her hand to shake three other men and one woman's hands.

She then turned to August who stood still as all the rough-looking people stared at her like she was some exhibit. Sliding out a chair next to the blonde Cornelia, Willow nodded her head to silently instruct August to sit.

She complied, softly sitting down in the chair and watching as Willow walked around the table to sit directly in front of her, the rest of the party also taking their seats.

Willow and the people began to talk, and August tried to keep up, but she felt so painfully out of place that she felt like she wasn't supposed to listen to their vulgar words and belly laughs. Her fingers found a loose string on the hem of her shirt, ripping it out to nervously twirl it between her fingers.

A man in a chef's uniform approached the table, arms behind his back.

"Good morning, Miss. What shall I serve you?" he spoke to Willow, slightly bowing.

The woman greeted him with a large smile. "Sunny side up eggs, please. With bacon, and a coffee."

"Very good. And you, my dear?" he turned to August, his smile looking similar to how Jerry's smile looked—polite but fearfully cautious.

"U-Um..." August stuttered, her eyes darting around to the now silent table whose every eye was on her, as if waiting intently for her grand answer. "Pan...cakes..." she stammered as if the word was new to her and needed to be tested out.

She heard a few snorts from the table as the man nodded his head, telling the two that their breakfast would be out right away, and hurriedly walked away through two swinging kitchen doors.

"Was that her first word?" Cornelia asked Willow with an elvish smirk.

"I thought for a moment there the poor girl was mute," said the other woman across the table, stuffing a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

A lump formed in August's throat. She already had a hatred for group interactions, but the fact that she was sitting with a group of gangsters who were belittling her was causing her embarrassment to fester.

"Speaking of first words, I didn't know we were running an elementary school here, Willow," said the man sitting next to Willow. This was the first time August heard anyone at that hotel call her by her real name.

Rolling her eyes, Willow responded, "She's 18, Patrick."

"Damn! I knew you liked the youngins but for Lord's sake, Will. She's barely of age!" spoke another man down the table. He brought his coffee cup to his mouth as his eyes smirked at the girl.

"Ronnie, one more sly comment from you this morning and I will shove that muffin up where muffins aren't supposed to go," Willow spoke with playfully threatening eyes, pointing her finger across Patrick to point at the man with a blueberry muffin sitting on his plate.

"Hey, now. I'm not judgin'! Just observing the facts." He smirked between August and Willow.

August stayed quiet, afraid that anything that came out of her mouth would be put up for mockery.

"I thought you stopped doing meth years ago, Ron," Willow spoke, rolling her eyes before they finally flickered back to August. The girl felt some sort of familiarity within those green pools that stood out amongst all the other lingering eyes at the table.

Two men brought out the two women's plates and drinks, setting them down in front of either of them.

As Willow dug into her food, August eyed down at her stack of three fluffy pancakes topped with a pad of butter and warm syrup that let a soft line of steam float into her face. Her hands wrapped around the cold glass of milk.

"Eat up," Willow spoke as she bit into a piece of bacon. "You and I will be going on an adventure today."

August froze, her appetitesuddenly waning. She didn't know if she could handle any more adventures,especially with the gun-equipped, leather-wearing, dark-haired woman who sat infront of her.