The Hockey Alpha's Hidden Mate

Violet

“What did you say?” my stepdad asked.

Gary’s voice was low, but I knew that tone. He was reeking of alcohol. He had been drinking for hours, and the half-empty bottle on the counter explained why his eyes were red.

In a shaky voice I said, “I said I won’t work at your bar.”

My cheek burned where his fist had struck me. Tears filled my eyes, and the taste of blood spread through my mouth. I held the edge of the kitchen table to stop myself from falling.

Before Gary came into our lives, Mom and I had been poor, but at least our house had been quiet. After him, every night felt like waiting for a storm. When I was younger, I would sometimes hide with mom, when Gary came home in a drunk stupor. We would pray to God that he didn’t find us, afraid to even breathe. But he always did, and he used us as punchbags. He would wake up the next day, apologizing to mom, and mom—she would forgive him.

But I wouldn’t back down this time. I had grown up and had found a way out. I could take my mom with me, away from this hell if I was careful enough.

His face hardened.

Despite his alcohol riddled mind, he knew exactly what he wanted. When he had called me downstairs, I thought he was going to complain about the grocery bill or demand money from my weekend job. I had not expected him to place a black dress on the table that covered almost nothing and tell me I have to start working at the country bar he owned.

I had seen the women who wore dresses like that at his bar. They sat on customers’ laps and followed men upstairs to the rooms Gary rented by the hour. They worked as his prostitutes.

The thought of him expecting me to become one of them filled me with disgust.

“You turned eighteen last month,” he said. “It’s time you started earning your keep.”

“I already work,” I said.

“Packing groceries two days a week doesn’t count.”

“I help Mom with the bills, and I do everything in this house.” My voice shook as I wiped the tears from my face. “I’m not going to that place.” I was into ice skating at my school and had won a gold medal in the state championship. I wanted to pursue my goals, my ambitions.

He retorted, “You’ll go wherever I tell you to go.”

“No,” I said, but my heart began pounding. I wanted to take it back, not because I had changed my mind, but because I knew what that meant. “I’ve been accepted into college,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’ve applied for financial aid, and I have a partial skating scholarship. I’m leaving soon.”

Gary growled, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Fear bubbled inside me. I had not told him which colleges had accepted me because I knew he would try to stop me. I had also hidden my North Valley College acceptance letter beneath my mattress. It was the farthest college from this town. It was surrounded by snow for most of the year, and its skating program was one of the best in the country. The scholarship did not cover everything, but it was enough to give me a chance. I was going to work part time.

“You can’t stop me!”

He moved before I could step back. His hand closed around my hair, and he pulled so hard that I cried out. Pain spread across my scalp as he dragged me toward him.

“You live under my roof,” he said. “You eat the food I pay for, and you use the electricity I pay for. You’ll do what I tell you.”

Tears ran freely down my face as I grabbed his wrist. “Let go of me.”

His grip only tightened.

“Please Gary…” I pleaded. “I’m not made for bartending.”

“Bitch!” He punched me in the stomach. The air left my lungs, and I fell to my knees. I tried to breathe, but the pain didn’t let me. Before I could recover, his foot struck my ribs and knocked me onto my side.

I screamed and curled into myself, covering my head with my arms. This wasn’t the first time he had hit me, but this was the first time he had hit me so bad.

“Please stop,” I cried. “Gary, please.”

He punched and kicked me again. “You filthy whore!” The pain was worse this time. I felt something pull sharply beneath my ribs, and nausea rose in my throat. I tried to crawl toward the doorway, but he caught my ankle and dragged me back across the floor. My nails scraped helplessly over the tiles.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

“Please,” I sobbed. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.”

He turned me onto my back and stood over me. I could barely see him through my tears, but I saw the contempt on his face. He did not look ashamed or frightened of his actions. Instead, he looked angry that I had resisted him.

“You think you’re too good for my bar?” he asked.

“I know what happens at your bar,” I said through my split lip. "You can't force me!"

He became still. “What do you know?” he asked.

I pressed my injured arm against my stomach. “N-nothing,” I said, wanting to take back my words.

He crouched beside me and caught my chin, forcing me to face him.

“You’ve been watching the girls?”

I turned my face away in disgust, but he gripped my jaw harder. I had seen the young women disappear into the rooms upstairs. I had seen them come down with smeared makeup, and bruises. Some had looked frightened whenever Gary walked near them.

“You want me to become one of them,” I whispered. “You’re disgusting.”

“Let me teach you a lesson! After that I will throw you in one of the red rooms!” His hand closed around my throat. I grabbed his wrist as he squeezed. Panic rushed through me when I could no longer draw air. I kicked and twisted beneath him, but he was too heavy. My vision began to blur. On instinct, I drove my heel into his shin. He cursed and released me. I rolled away, coughing and pulling air painfully into my lungs.

I heard glass scratching on the table. I looked up and saw him holding a whiskey bottle above me.

“Gary, don’t.”

I lifted my arm before he brought the bottle down. It struck my forearm with a hard crack, and pain shot from my wrist to my shoulder. I screamed and tried to move away, but he raised it again. The second blow struck the side of my head.

For a few seconds, I could not see anything. My ears rang, and when my vision slowly returned, I was lying flat on the kitchen floor. Warm blood ran through my hair and down my neck.

Gary continued shouting, but I could not understand the words. I tried to push myself up, but my arm gave way. Gary’s shoe struck my side again, and I cried out weakly.

The back door opened, and through the haze I saw someone.

“What are you doing?” My mother’s scream reached me through the ringing in my ears. She rushed toward me and dropped to the floor. Her hands shook as she touched my face and stared at the blood around my head.

“Violet, look at me. Please look at me.”

I wanted to tell her to get me out of the house. I wanted to tell her where I had hidden the college letter and beg her to pack my things before Gary could destroy them.

But my tongue felt numb. So did my body. It was so cold…

I heard her calling for an ambulance, and then everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room. My head was bandaged, my arm was in a cast, and every breath sent pain through my ribs. A machine beeped beside my bed while my mother sat in the chair near me. The moment I saw her, relief filled me.

She noticed that I was awake and leaned closer. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but the words she whispered left me colder than anything Gary had done.

“Violet, none of this would have happened if you had simply agreed to work at the bar.”