How it Started

Summer

Five Years Earlier…

"You fucking slut." my sister's high-pitched voice pulls me out of my foggy sleep.

I open my eyes and the blaring sunlight from the open blinds causes them to water. Closing my lids, I try to rub the blurriness away. I'd only been sleep for an hour. The nightmares were bad last night, and I was entirely too sober to deal with them.

"It's too early for this shit, Rai," I whine as I sink my head back into my pillow.

It's been a full day and a half since I got high. The early signs of withdrawal are starting to creep up. My pillow is soaked from sweat and I'm exhausted. However, even if I was high, I wouldn't want to wake up to my overly dramatic sister screaming at me.

"I can't believe you, Summer." Her teary voice tells me something is different about this wake up.

I'm used to being shouted at by Raina for any slight inconvenience. I'm staying at her place, and she likes to remind me of that. But she doesn't usually cry when she's chewing me out about something.

Sitting up in the small twin bed, the room spins before I can focus. If I don't find some blow or pills, this day is only going to get worse.

When my head finally stops spinning, I look toward the doorway to find my very pregnant sister in her pink kitten scrubs standing beside her asshole boyfriend. I know immediately what's going on.

"What did he tell you?" I ask Raina.

She swipes a hand under her brown eyes. Even though at twenty-three, I'm the oldest by three years, many people always assume she was. Probably because she's 5'7" and towers over my 5'3" height.

"I told her the truth," Mitch yells from behind her. The black eye I gave him last night is swollen and nearly closed shut.

I roll my eyes at him. Mitch hasn't told the truth a day in his life, I don't even think he knows what the word means.

"You tried to get my boyfriend to sleep with you?" Raina scoffs.

Those that truly knew me, would know that was a lie. My best friend, Trina, would laugh her ass off at the accusation if she were here. I'm many things— most of them not good—but I'm not a soulless whore that would try to tempt her sister's lowlife boyfriend to my bed. Even I have standards.

"Is that what he told you?"

"Of course, that's what I told her, it's the truth," Mitch continues to sell the lie.

I glare at the asshat that got my sister pregnant. I don't judge people, I'm in no place to do so. However, everyone knows that Mitchell Kane can't keep his dick in his pants. At the moment, he has three other girls pregnant. My sister doesn't know about any of them. I tried to tell her once, and it ended in an argument where she called me a jealous crackhead.

I figured if she wanted to play Boo Boo the Fool, why should I discourage her.

"Let me get this right," I say, throwing the covers back and sitting on the side of the bed. "I came on to you, but you ended up with a black eye?"

Raina looks over her shoulder at him. I wonder did that even register to her, or did she automatically believe the worst of me, like our mother.

Mitch stumbles over his excuse. "You got mad when I turned your skank ass down, so you hit me." Clearly not hard enough.

My mouth drops open, there is no way she can believe that. Yet, when she turns back to me, I immediately know she does. I laugh, not at the situation, but at how I've always been considered the dumb one in the family.

I could tell Raina the truth. I could explain to her, that from the day I moved in here two weeks ago, Mitch has been trying to fuck me. I've turned him down every time. Last night, after she went to work, he got drunk and got a little forceful. The black eye was my reminder to him that no means not in a million fucking years.

"Are you seriously laughing right now?" Raina shouts.

Tucking my lips in, I shake my head no.

"I can't believe you're joking about this," she whines.

That's another sign that tells me my sister doesn't fucking know me. Making light of horrible situations is my default setting.

Exhaling my frustration, I rake a hand down my face. "What do you want me to say Rai? It's not like you'll believe me anyway."

They never do. Her and mother are always quick to expect the absolute worst from me. If I told her the truth, she would still find a way to blame me. I'm the druggy fuck up of the family. Just like daddy, as they like to remind me. Anytime anything goes wrong, I'm the one to blame. The facts never matter to them.

Raina's mouth sinks into a frown as she looks to her left to stare at the wall. "Mama told me not to take you in. She said that you were just a leeching lowlife, but I tried to help you. I was hoping you would change before your nephew came. But now I know, it's going to take a lot more than me to save you, Summer." Her eyes, so familiar to mine, cut back to me.

Raina likes to think she's the good child. The one with her shit together. If you compare us side by side, I guess that makes sense. She's the CNA, and I'm the homeless addict.

I know she took me in only because she wanted to be the one that saved me. Not for me. She couldn't care less if I'm sober or not. She wants to do it because she enjoys the accolades that come with the good girl status. She likes being the hero in her stories. Only I know how far from the truth that is.

"I want you out," she whispers.

I would say that her decision hurts me, but I'm used to it. I'm not a saint. Hell, I'm not even easy to get along with, but I've never betrayed my family. Despite what they think.

Her decision inconveniences me, especially now, but I'll figure something out. I always do. Trina says I must be part cat because I have nine lives. If I am, I'm the unluckiest fucking cat in the world because of those nine lives, so far all have been shitty.

"Fine, give me a few days. I'll be out of your hair."

I stand, stretching my arms over my head. I'm wearing a ratty T-shirt and gym shorts.

Even with everything covered, I still feel exposed in front of Mitch. I head to my borrowed dresser to find some jogging pants.

"No," Summer says stopping me halfway. "You're leaving now."

My mouth drops open. "Are you fucking serious?" I look at the clock on the nightstand. "It's 7:30 in the morning. And it's Saturday. I have nowhere to go."

Plus, what she doesn't know, is that I can't be on the streets. The whole reason I asked to move in with her is because I've made an enemy. A very dangerous one.

She wipes away the tear that falls down her cheek. "You should have thought about that before you tried to sleep with my boyfriend."

Okay, I was babying her before. I didn't want to hurt her feelings about her piece of shit baby daddy, but forget that.

"You can't be that fucking dumb, Raina. Do you truly believe I tried to sleep with him, and he turned it down, so I punched him in the face? Does that really make logical sense to you?"

"Shut up, Summer," Mitch yells. Even he knows how absurd it sounds.

"Mitch has community dick and has practically fucked everyone in Hammel projects, but you believe all of a sudden, he has found morals and turned down free pussy?"

She scoffs and wipes at her newly falling tears. "You are a lying bitter bitch, and you're just as fucked up in the head as daddy."

If she'd used a knife, she couldn't have cut me any deeper. Yet, no matter how cruel she is to me, I still could never hate her. Beat her ass, maybe, but I couldn't hate her.

My shoulders collapse as defeat embraces me. "Give me an hour, I'll be out of your way."

Raina and Mitch leave, and I get busy tossing my few measly possessions into a trash bag. It only takes me twenty minutes to get dressed.

I walk into the living room. Raina is crying in Mitch's arms and he's scrolling through his phone behind her back. He looks up at me when I walk in and smirks. The sad part is, he told me this would happen last night. He said if I didn't have sex with him, he was going to make Raina put me out. I guess he won.

Ignoring him, I place her spare key down on the little glass coffee table. Before leaving, I stop for a moment, hoping my sister would change her mind. Not because I need a place to stay, which I do, but because I hope she will come to her senses and realize I would never hurt her that way.

When she continues to avoid me, I shake my head as I turn to leave. After all these years, I still believed there was hope for us. Maybe one day I will learn that the damage my mother did to our relationship is irreparable. When I storm out of the door, I make sure to slam it.

Although I left without a fight, I really don't have anywhere to go. I doubt anyone else in my family will take me in. I have only one true friend and that's the first place my enemy will check.

I don't make good first impressions. Hell, I'm not really good when you get to know me either. And I damn sure can't afford my own place.

After taking the subway toward Queens, I climb on the bus and head to the only place I'd be welcomed. Leaning my head against the window I shut my eyes. The cool surface of the glass soothes my clammy head.

The lack of sleep last night starts to catch up to me. The moment I let my guard down, and sleep starts to lull me, my brain conjures up the images. Blood is everywhere, all over my hands and painted against my pink nightgown. I pop my eyes open quickly, placing a hand against my rapidly beating heart. I count to ten and try to do the breathing exercise my therapist taught me. Eventually, the remnants of the nightmare start to recede.

I pinch my arm to keep myself from falling back to sleep. Until I get my hands on a Perc, it's best I stay awake. I stare out the window as the city flies by.

Stepping off the bus, I toss my trash bag over my shoulder. Pulling the hoodie over my head, I keep my eyes fixed on the pavement in hopes no one recognizes me. Making the short trip to my only friends' small blue house, I walk up the steps and knock twice on the white door. After three minutes pass and no one answers I knock again. The door swings open, and a very angry Trina is standing in front of me in a red silk robe.

"Who the fuck is knocking on my…. Summer? What the hell are you doing here?" She asks once she sees it's me.

She looks over my head back out onto the street, before grabbing my arm and pulling me inside.

She shuts the door and glances up the stairs. "What are you doing here? You know Nic has goons all on this block looking for you."

I flinch at the name of my ex. The one time I tried to do the relationship thing it backfired on me. Typical.

"Raina kicked me out," I say, pushing the hoodie off my head and dropping my trash bag at my feet.

Trina's eyes narrow and she folds her arms over her chest. "What did you do?"

I love that my best friend knows me enough to know that nine times out of ten, I fucked up.

I snort, "Tried to sleep with Mitch."

She stares for a moment and then we both burst out laughing. "Is she serious? She actually believed that bullshit?"

"Apparently, her and mommy knew it was coming."

Movement on the stairs has me looking up. A tall slender white man is coming down the steps, pulling his blazer on. He looks to be in his late forties. He has a dusting of gray hair at his temples and lines around his eyes and mouth. He glances nervously at me before turning back to Trina.

"You're leaving?" she purrs at the man.

I look away when she runs her hand over his chest. I don't do well in awkward or high-pressure situations. Hell, I just don't do well period.

"I have a flight to catch at noon. I left your money on the nightstand," he says the last part low as if I don't know how my best friend makes her money.

What Trina does would be considered prostitution to some. She calls herself a sugar baby. She dates older men that provide for her financially.

"Okay. I'll see you the next time you're in town?"

The man smiles and nods his head up and down. He turns to me. "Nice to meet you."

"Uh, you too. I hope you enjoyed the services." I flinched as I realized what I'd just said.

The guy's eyes widen. Trina groans and places her hand to her forehead. He quickly makes his exit after that. As soon as the door shuts behind him, Trina turns to me.

"Really, bitch?"

I shrug. "You know how I get when I'm nervous. Plus, he reminded me of one of my old substance abuse counselors," I say, shivering as the memory of their resemblance replays in my head.

"Well, he's not." She turns around and heads into her living room.

I follow behind her, leaving my belongings in her foyer.

"I swear whoever created Viagra needs their ass kicked. I don't know why everyone wants to fuck all night."

She flops down on the couch and picks up a half smoked blunt out of the ashtray on her coffee table. I sit down beside her and place my head against the back of the sofa. Trina fires the L and the sweet smell of cannabis fills the air. My mouth waters for a hit.

She passes it to me, and I place it to my lips taking a long drag. The smoke fills my lungs and I immediately feel my body relaxing. I exhale and choke, passing it back to Trina.

"You look like shit," she says taking another hit. "When's the last time you slept?"

Shutting my eyes, I let the weed do its job. "I got about two hours last night."

I don't have to open my eyes and look at her to know she's watching me. I can feel the heat of her stare on the side of my face.

"You can't survive like that. You need to sleep."

"I'll sleep once I get a pill."

Her huff of breath alerts me that this conversation is about to get serious. "You need to talk to someone."

"I've tried that remember," I say cracking my eyes open to look at her. "Didn't work."

When I was nine, my mother took me to see someone about the nightmares. Not because she cared, but she got tired of me waking up crying and screaming in the middle of the night.

They tried to put me on medication, but by then I was terrified of medicine. To avoid going back to the shrink, I started to act out before every appointment. Mommy got fed up and stopped taking me. She stopped caring all together after a while.

"Something has to give, Summer. You can't keep living like this."

"Trina," I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You know I usually love our little pep talks, but I'm running off two hours of sleep in three days. I need a place to crash until I find another alternative."

Look, I know I have a problem. Trust me, no one feels the effects of my life choices more than me. I've tried to get better, I've even been clean a few times, but that shit never lasts.

"You can crash here for the night until we find something else. It's too risky for you to stay here longer than that. He's been here once looking for you and that black Tahoe drives by at least twice a day."

"There is nowhere else for me to go," I say, sitting up placing my elbows on my knees.

"I just got paid, I can help you get a hotel for about two weeks."

I shake my head, "You have your own bills to take care of. I'm not taking your money."

She passes me the blunt and I sit up straight, taking another drag of it.

"I need to get out of town and start over in like Kansas or someplace," I groan, allowing the smoke to puff out with each word. "For that, I need money. A lot of money." Running my hands through my damaged hair, I place the green to my lips again. "Maybe I should just turn myself in to Nic. At least if I'm dead I can sleep, and I won't be anybody else's problem."

Trina snatches the blunt out of my fingers.

"Hey," I argue.

"If you're going to be talking that type of bullshit, you don't need any more weed." She places the blunt back down in the ashtray.

She turns to me, tucking her leg under her butt. "You're right about one thing. You need to leave New York. Nic is never going to stop looking for you. Rightfully so," she adds with a smirk.

I roll my eyes flopping back against the couch. "I know. But unless you have a stack of cash lying around that you don't want, that's not going to happen."

Trina's head tilts to the side as she watches me. "I might have a plan, but you're not going to like it."

"Well, I'm not feeling encouraged right now about it," I laugh.

She leans forward, placing her hands in a prayer position. "Alright, I know this guy—"

"No."

"Summer," she starts to plead but I don't want to hear it.

I stand from the sofa, but she grabs my hand and yanks me back down.

"Sit your ass down and listen," she demands. Her tone has my head snapping in her direction.

Trina runs a hand through her gorgeous lace front wig.

"I've known you since we were six years old. You're like a sister to me and I've sat back too long watching you battle with this addiction, but enough is enough. I don't think you understand, Nic is going to kill you. And I know you talk a big game about dying and giving up, but I also know you're not ready to die."

I turn away, but her finger under my chin brings my attention back to her.

"It's time to put your big girl panties on and do what you need to do. This is your only chance to save your life. Because I'm not ready to be here without my bestie."

As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Death has come knocking at my door many times and I always find some way to avoid it. There has to be a reason for it. Clearly, I have a purpose here, and it's not to give up now. If I'm going to survive this latest fiasco, I can't stay here.

"Ugh," I grunt. "Tell me about this client."

She smiles and claps her hands together. "Okay, his name is Gregory Matthews and he's some kind of CEO or something. He's been trying to get me to do this role-playing thing with him for the longest, but he's a friend of my current sugar daddy and I didn't want to muddy the waters."

I scrunch my face in disgust. "What does he want you to do?"

"Don't make that face. Everyone has a kink, plus his isn't even that bad. He only wants to be tied up and spanked."

What the hell is wrong with people?

"Anyway," she continues. "From my understanding, he spends the entire night tied up leaving you with full control. You just have to belittle him a little. Once he's fully aroused, you climb on top, ride him to completion a few times, and get out of there first thing in the morning. It's that simple."

Already I can feel the clawing in my chest just thinking about sleeping with some random. I don't have any hang ups with sex or anything. However, I feel that intimacy on that level should be shared with two people that actually give a shit about each other. Is it ironic that I abuse my body on a daily basis with drugs, but have morals when it comes to sex? Yes.

Trina places a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, Summer. I promise it won't be bad. As long as you don't start being yourself."

By "being myself" she means being a klutz or by having mouth diarrhea.

"I can't make any promises," I admit.

She shakes her head. "I'll call him and see if I can set something up for tonight. We can even negotiate the payment. And then this time tomorrow, you'll have a pocket full of money and you can catch a bus to anywhere you want to go. Trust me, what could go wrong?"