Sierra

S tepping out of the bathroom was embarrassing enough, my tasseled hair is the only evidence anyone needs to know that I was thoroughly fucked. No amount of water and hair brushing from what I'm hoping was Catalinas' brush was able to help the way I looked the moment I stepped out of the lavish bathroom.

I quickly make my way to the dining room; everyone watches as I sit down with looks of concern and yet they don't ask questions. Marcelo, no longer with a cigar between his lips, looks downright murderous, probably because of whoever left that nasty mark on his jaw.

"Alright, babe. It's time for me to venture out and help Darlene tend the bar," I lie, Darlene already knows to cover the entire day and night. Allowing me to indulge in my nightly spike of adrenaline.

"Are you sure you have to leave?" Cat asks, her pleading eyes questioning whether I'm truly alright. I nod, hiding behind the invisible mask that is always carefully placed. "I'm good. I'll see you for your bachelorette party next weekend, alright?" I respond, lightly placing my hand over hers and squeezing.

I start to walk out when Julian comes out of the shadows of the hallway. His gaze causes me to pause before I have a chance to turn towards the door. His darkened eyes never leave mine as we stand there for a moment longer. The annoying little butterflies in my stomach flutter when he smirks at me and looks up and down my body like he was stripping my clothes off me one by one.

Rolling my eyes, I turn towards the entrance and out the door before I have a chance to regret leaving so quickly. I know they are going to keep the party going, I know that they want to drink more and maybe to the point of intoxication. But I can't, I need this next kill.

Walking towards my jeep, my hands tremble as I reach for the handle to open the door, they still shake as I turn on the ignition and start my drive towards the one place I can relax without the shield I surround myself with.

The drive does nothing to ease my mind, thoughts of the man who started my pain invade my head as I keep my eyes on the cars in front of me. The drive from Catalina's luxurious home to my shit hole is filled with traffic most days, today is no different.

The smell of burning flesh fills the room as I wail in pain. I don't fight him anymore; my body is completely limp as the lit cigar meets my lower back. While he pushes inside me for the first time today. My mom is currently downstairs at the bar, working or better yet drinking along with her customers; by the time she even makes it upstairs it's too late. Too late to save me from the monster she married. He continues pushing his body against mine. He never looks at my face as he hurts me, he always pushes my face to the bed to muffle the sounds of my cries. Just as he started, he finishes and leaves me to deal with the pain.

The pain never truly fades, I still have the scars on both my body and the damage of my stability. I did what I had to do to be sure he could never hurt me again. He had it coming, and yet his abuse was nothing compared to the reminder that I am still the helpless child I once was.

Arriving at my normal parking spot, I turn off my car and take a few moments to regulate the uncontrollable pressure in my chest at the faint smell of the cigar on my body. I'm grateful that Marcelo hadn't been smoking when I had walked back into the room. I've never told a soul what I experienced with my stepfather. It's a secret I'll bring to the grave, along with the other disgusting souls that matched his own. I'll drag them all down with me, at least then their victims will have a chance at true happiness.

It doesn't take long for me to go inside and change before I'm back on the road.

An hour of silence has passed and I quickly dial Ry's number before I go forward with my plans.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," Ry greets after one ring, like he was waiting for my call.

"I'm on my way to San Diego. No surprises, right?" I ask, tapping my fingers in unison on the steering wheel. He stays silent, not even the clicking of a keyboard fills the silence.

"I have no plans to surprise you, sweetheart, but I appreciate you calling to check. Should I have gotten you a present?" he says sarcastically, and I can't help the way my jaw tightens at his annoying sarcasm.

"Don't worry, I'll keep watch and make sure you're good on your end. Or, was there anything else?"

I roll my eyes, not really sure why I even called him at this point. But for some reason, he makes me think that this is how it would be like if I had a sibling. A brother to watch out for me and protect me by both fueling my addiction and keeping my secrets.

"That's it. Hey, Ry?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For everything," I whisper into the phone.

"You're welcome. Hey, ?"

"Yeah?"

"Make him pay." He chuckles and with that he hangs up. I smile, feeling a little less pressure on my chest at having someone in my corner who probably knows all my secrets and just encourages me to bring justice in my own way.

One more hour of silence, of the blurred images of trees and buildings as I close the distance between myself and Mr. Donald Arison from Crystal Hills. I go over the details from his file, 46 years old. Accused of sexual assault of a minor that was only 12 years old. He got a way without even a slap on the wrist, since the man is fucking loaded. The little girl committed suicide a year later. A girl recently went to the hospital, who had been raped and beaten badly too afraid to say who had hurt her. I wanted to double check to be sure, so I had Ry cross reference his previous victims and compare her to them. They are all the same build, same light eyes, same brown hair, same facial features. I don't need any more evidence; besides, he deserves what he's getting.

As I arrive down the street from his fancy house, I park the car as far away as possible. It's about 9 p.m., so I gather the jammer, my black hoodie, and place my blonde hair inside a beanie so I can properly scope out the area as if I were a jogger.

Jogging can be extremely uncomfortable with a blade handle digging into your stomach. I need to figure out a way to do this more efficiently but I'm still growing and there's only so much a girl can think of. Although having it dig into my skin on the entire drive also made it unbearable. I couldn't risk having someone see me with a fucking knife, that's red flag number one.

I make sure that the streets are clear before I make my way to the Arison house. The ranch style home was easy to find online due to the fact that it's a luxury home and the fact that Donald likes to show off the fact that he's made of money I was able to find the tour to his home. So, I know that behind the house he's surrounded by landscape with an inground pool and hot tub. The entire fucking house screams money, but the inside through that video showcases just how much he reeks of it. 6 bedrooms, a library, a pool house, a fucking chef's kitchen, and expensive art filling the walls.

There's a tiny cement fence surrounding the home with a wooden gate at the front of the driveway, as if that were the most secure location. My phone vibrates as I reach into my pocket to grab the jammer.

Ry : You're clear. Security system was shut off.

Ry : He is alone. I'll keep my eye out on any 911 calls, but with the jammer you should be good.

Ry : Once you turn it on, you're on your own.

Me : Going in.

The click of the jammer starts my own timer of how long I can take in the building. As much as I want to take my time, I know that it's not possible.

Here goes nothing.