Darkness Before Dawn Part 1

Darkness Before Dawn.

Claire Contreras.

To the Reader.

Acknowledgements.

Return to Me.

A & M,.

Don't let anybody tell you that you can't do something. Not even me.

You want it, you go after it. No excuses.

Christian.

For not giving up on me, even when I want to give up on myself.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hug my s.h.i.+vering body and try to picture myself somewhere far, far away. Other than the dirty mattress I lay on, there is nothing here-nothing but the darkness that surrounds me. At the sound of footsteps approaching, my breathing pounds in antic.i.p.ation. As he draws closer, it begins to shallow. When I hear the doork.n.o.b turn, I stop breathing altogether. The steps get closer...closer...until they reach me.

The sound of s.h.i.+fting denim fills the empty room as he crouches down in front of me, and I try to hold in my breath as the smell of cigarettes and bourbon that seeps from him tickles my nostrils.

A small whimper escapes me when his calloused hands caress my face and I stifle a frightened quiver that threatens to break out over my body. I never know if I'm going to get nice Alex or not, but if I had a choice I'd go with the latter. Not that I like him either way. I figured I would place him on my shelf of villains. Alex is kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That's what he reminds me of. He grabs both sides of my face in one of his hands and squeezes it, my own yelp dragging me out of my thoughts.

"Look at me," he demands gruffly.

My eyes peel open slowly to meet his blue eye greets me, soft and warm. His gla.s.s eye reflecting the sadness in my own.

"Are you feeling well?" he asks after a beat.

I grind my jaw and glare at him in response. I like it better when he's mean to me, when he's sober. When I don't respond, he sighs deeply, letting go of my face, and sits down in front of me. I loosen the grip I have around myself and sit up, mimicking him.

"Did you eat today?" he asks.

"Yes," I whisper, flinching when he pushes himself up to his knees suddenly and buries his face in his hands. I stare wide-eyed at the back of his blond head before I look around the now dimly lit room. If I had something heavy I could knock him out right now, but of course there's nothing here except that d.a.m.n broken television and I can't lift that. He takes a long, deep breath before he looks up again, his face glistening.

"It wasn't supposed to be you," he whispers hoa.r.s.ely, extending his arm to touch my face, brus.h.i.+ng my left cheek.

I don't understand what he means by this. If it wasn't supposed to be me, why did he take me? Instead of asking, I close my eyes and think of my rock during these hours, days, months, years. His bright green eyes, crooked smile, dimple, and messy hair. His protective arms and everything they offer me when I need it most. My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, and for a moment I find my zen because in that moment I'm with Cole.

"I'm sorry," Alex says brokenly. "I'm so sorry," he cries, bringing his face to his knees and clutching the mattress below me with the palms of his hands. My body shakes along with the mattress as he continues to sob in front of me. I don't know what to do, so I just sit wallowing in my own sadness and examining his wide, sc.r.a.ped knuckles.

"Are you going to let me go?" I ask quietly.

Suddenly, he lifts up and sits back on his heels very slowly. His eye darkens as it narrows on mine and the disapproval in them makes my stomach plummet.

"What?" he asks through gritted teeth. "What do you mean, let you go?"

"You...you said you were sorry," I stammer.

"I'm never letting you go again, Cory," he huffs, his face hardening as he gets up and walks to the door.

"I'm not Cory," I whisper, more to myself than to him, but my voice bounces off the walls of the small empty room and I know he hears me.

"What did you say?" he growls, pivoting around swiftly.

"I'm not Cory," I whimper.

He stomps over to me and before I can move back, the back of his hand makes contact with my face, causing my entire head to jerk sideways. My painful cry is cut short when he yanks me by the hair and drags me off the mattress, making me scramble awkwardly on my hands and feet in an attempt to lessen the pain on my scalp.

"I KNOW YOU'RE NOT CORY," he bellows as he continues to drag me around the room while I hold on to my head to stop the burn. "If it weren't for you, maybe she'd still be here! With me!" He lets me go suddenly, b.u.mping me against the side of the dresser, before he walks over and crouches down in front of me, his breathing harsh in my ear. I force myself to look up and when our eyes lock, his entire demeanor changes. His eyes widen and he stumbles back, grumbling an apology under his breath before walking out and slamming the door behind him. I wait until I hear the lock click on the other side of the door, then I lurch over to gasp for air, letting myself crumble.

I lie on the cold floor willing my heart to calm. I try to recall everything that's happened while I've been here, hoping to figure out how long I've been gone. I unsuccessfully do this every day-I just know it has been too long. I can barely hear Cole's voice in my head anymore; the one there fades with each pa.s.sing day and I can't allow myself to forget what he sounds like. If I do, I'll lose hope. I've already lost too much though. And for him, for us, I can't afford that. I make the painful crawl back to the mattress and sob into the pillow until it's covered in blood and salty tears. I close my eyes and picture Cole's green eyes looking back at me, pleading with me to stay strong, as I drift into sleep.

The click of the lock jerks me awake, but I keep my eyes closed even when the door is shoved open and bangs onto the wall beside it. I bury my face deeper into the pillow and bite down on it, refusing to make a sound as pain shoots through my body.

"Wake up, girl!" His booming voice echoes in the room as he switches on the light. "Wake UP!"

I s.h.i.+ft and sit up, carefully squinting my eyes and whimpering from the pain in my back. My eyes blink a couple of times until they adjust to my surroundings and widen when I see Alex standing in the threshold with his arms crossed. He's dressed in dark jeans, and a b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rt, not his usual business clothing. His tall physique blocks most of the entryway, and it takes everything in me to look at his face. The circles under his eyes are more prominent every time I see him. The blond shadow on his jaw filling a little more. As I examine him, the fleeting thought crosses my mind that he must have been a handsome man once upon a time, before life took his eye. Although it's hard to conceive, I like to believe that light may have once resided in them. Sometimes his eyes look so gentle, and I wonder if he has children of his own or anybody to love. I like to believe that about everybody though. Tearing my gaze away from his, I see another figure behind him and swallow a gasp as I clutch the sheets beneath me.

"Look familiar?" Alex asks gruffly when the young man stands beside him. A man that can't be much older than me dressed in jeans, a white T-s.h.i.+rt and black leather jacket. He has the kind of face that I would normally consider a baby face if it weren't for the clear mischief in his eyes and light hair that aligns his jaw. I nod in reply to Alex's question because I can't afford to make him angry again. "This is Dean, he'll be watching over you for a couple of days. He's good at that. Do as he says and don't try and get smart with him. If you try anything stupid-"

"I won't," I interrupt in a low voice, flinching when he takes a step forward.

"Good," he says. "You have work to do today."

They walk out without another word and I get up carefully, dragging my feet to the bathroom. I brush my teeth, careful not to hit the inner wall of my bruised right cheek. Once I'm done rinsing, I stare at the woman in the mirror, a ghost of my former self. With the exception of the bruises, my skin looks pale, almost translucent; a far cry from the golden skin I had before I got here. I don't know her anymore, and I'm not sure if I'll become her again. I don't even know that I want to. That woman, that scared woman, the one that locked all of her doors because she thought it kept her safe, is now locked in a room with no way out. How fitting.

I shower as quickly as I can without causing my body more pain, dress in gray sweat pants and a white baggy T-s.h.i.+rt, and carefully bend back down to sit on the uncomfortable mattress again. I'm lost in thoughts of Cole when I hear a single knock on the door. It opens slightly and Dean tucks his head in. After seeing me dressed and ready, he steps in and places a tray of food in front of me, which I devour in two seconds. When I look up from the empty plate, he's eyeing me curiously.

"Have they been feeding you?" he asks, his voice low.

"Yes."

"Hmm. And you've been doing the laundry for them?"

I nod slowly as I look into his confused hazel eyes.

"Well, let's go," he says, getting up and taking the tray with him before extending a hand to help me up, which I refuse. I place both hands on the mattress and awkwardly push myself up so that I don't flinch in pain.

I take a step forward, and my knees buckle before I straighten both legs and push my shoulders back. Dean puts the tray on top of the TV and takes two strides until he's directly in front of me. I stumble two steps back, blinking rapidly while looking at his narrowed eyes.

"Where else did he hit you?" he asks, grinding his teeth. Bewildered by the hostile tone in his voice, I just stare at him, my breathing becoming ragged. I'm unsure of what to expect. Alex had never really hit me before last night, and even though I'm afraid of him, he's still the lesser of two evils.

"He...why does it matter?" I ask as my eyebrows knit together.

Dean exhales and ruffles his brown hair before extending his hand and touching my bottom lip with his thumb. I take in a breath; my feet cemented not letting me move away. "Let's just say I have an issue with women being hit." He shrugs, dropping his hand from my face.

I nod once and finally let out the breath I'm holding. I contemplate not replying to him, it's not like he can or will help me anyway. He helped get me here, after all. He's just as bad as they are. I brush past him and walk out of the room as he trails behind me.

"He's not the one I worry about," I mutter, looking around at the three men that are already here and breathing a sigh of relief when I see that the one I'm referring to isn't one of them. Dean grabs my elbow and pulls me back harshly.

"What does that mean?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

I squint back. "What are you my savior? Where the h.e.l.l have you been for the past...whatever amount of days?" I ask angrily before yanking my arm away from him.

He lets out a short laugh behind me before mumbling, "Savior...that's new."

I continue down the path that leads to the laundry room and begin my daily task, which unfortunately doesn't take long enough. I throw the white coats that the men in the other room use into the was.h.i.+ng machine, and throw their stained gloves into the trash can, before sitting on the floor. Dean sits down on the wall opposite of me and we both stare at the floor.

"Look, chick, I don't want you to get the wrong idea, I'm not here to save you or anything." He starts running his hand through his hair and exhaling. "Gimme some time to figure s.h.i.+t out. Maybe I can help you out," he says quietly. I can feel his gaze on my face, but I refuse to turn and confirm that he's staring at me.

"Why would you help me?" I ask, my voice dripping in disbelief.

"Because I know who you are. Because helping you might help me," he states simply.

I turn my face and glare at him. "Yeah, you made that perfectly clear the last time we had a run-in, remember?"

"Of course I remember. But I didn't know what I know now and I changed my mind about helping him," he replies with a slight shrug as if a life, MY life, is a freaking game.

"Oh, you changed your mind?" I scoff.

He gives me a menacing stare. "Yes. You don't have to believe me. Like I said, I'm not here to be your f.u.c.king prince charming, you already have one of those, remember?" he says with a raised eyebrow. My jaw unhinges and my heart begins to thump rapidly against my chest, but before I can reply to him, the door beside me suddenly kicks open full force. I shriek, crawling backwards when I look up and see dark eyes narrowing in on me, until my back collides with the tips of Dean's boots.

"What are you doing here?" Benny snarls looking over my head.

My stomach clenches when I notice the absence of Dean's shoes on my back. I bring my legs up to me, clasping my knees together and wrap my arms around my legs, my eyes glued to Benny's cold black eyes. I want to avert my eyes from his, I wish I could so bad, but he holds me there; holds me prisoner. Chaining my insides slowly together and tugging, waiting for me to crumble. But I won't. He tears his glare from me to look at Dean in disdain, waiting for an answer.

"Alex told me to watch her, the f.u.c.k do you care?" Dean snaps back, making my eyes widen. I've never seen anybody talk back to Benny, other than Alex. Benny is not really a big guy, but he has the most menacing face, with a scar that trails from his right eyebrow to the top of his lip. His jaw is always hardened and his lips remain set in a grim line, but it's his eyes-his soulless eyes make him menacing.

"Why would you have to watch her?" Benny asks, even his question sounding like a demand.

Dean s.h.i.+fts his feet and stands in front of me, blocking me from Benny. They're now standing face to face, testing each other. They both have an athletic figure, but Dean is actually fit, whereas Benny looks like he drank an entire Corona delivery truck.

"You've been beating her?" Dean asks in a low voice, stepping closer and causing Benny to back up a step. I scoot back a little more, just in case this turns into a full-out brawl.

"What's it to you?" Benny spits back. "You can't f.u.c.k 'er, ya know? Alex will cut off your b.a.l.l.s and feed 'em to ya."

"f.u.c.k you. You touch her again and I'll cut yours," Dean grinds out.

Benny shakes his head in amus.e.m.e.nt as he laughs. "So f.u.c.king touchy when it comes to women. What ever happened to Sarah, anyway?"

Dean's nostrils flare and he lets out a growl before his fist collides with Benny's jaw, making him fall back. I gasp and scoot my back flush against the wall before clasping both hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming. Benny attacks back by punching Dean in the stomach, making him hurl over. He recovers quickly and lurches his body forward, slamming Benny's back against the wall.

"That's enough!" a man shouts loudly. My hands start quivering over my mouth and tears form in my eyes. "Benny, I told you not to come down here unless I was here!" he screams.

"You're too easy on her! She ruined your life! MY LIFE!" Benny screams loudly. I press my back further into the wall and bite down on the inside of my hands when a sob threatens to escape. I shut my eyes, praying for a way out of the scene before me.

"Get out! Get the f.u.c.k out!" Alex yells. "This is business! This isn't for your personal f.u.c.king pleasure! We got her here and now we wait! She stays unharmed, and you don't get near her until it's time to turn her over. YOU GOT ME?"

Benny mumbles something I can't hear and I hear his stomps begin to fade away. My body goes rigid when I hear footsteps approach, and I snap my eyes open in a panic.

"Sorry about that, chick," Dean says, crouching down in front of me. His face and T-s.h.i.+rt are full of blood as his hazel eyes search my face.

"What the f.u.c.k was that about?" Alex asks gruffly, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"He beat her," Dean explains casually and I feel my eyes go as wide as saucers. Benny has. .h.i.t me, but he wasn't the one who did this to me. I swallow loudly and avert my eyes from Dean, hoping I can cover up my discomfort before looking back at them.

Alex gives me a long thoughtful look before he shakes his head slowly and looks at his feet. He doesn't apologize, but he makes me feel it. The washer timer goes off and I force myself to get up and tend to it.

"I'm leaving. Watch her 'round the clock. I don't care what you gotta do outside of here, cancel. Tell Jamie you got something else to do and let someone else handle it for you," Alex says before walking away.

"Got it," Dean replies with a nod.

The next morning, I'm awakened by the sound of clattering dishes nearby. I sit up, startled, when I see Dean standing in my room holding a tray. I'm surprised that he changed into a pair of jeans and a black leather jacket. I don't know where I figured he would be staying, but since he's supposed to watch me around the clock, I didn't think he would go home. For some reason the thought of him going home in the middle of the night bothers me.

"Sorry, chick. I knocked and called out for you, but you never answered. Brought you food," he says as he puts the tray down on the floor beside me. I nod in appreciation and am once again thankful, when I watch his eyes trail down my body, that they provide me with clothes that fully cover me.

He clears his throat. "Not much to do here, huh?" he asks, averting his eyes to survey the empty room. The only thing here is the mattress and a tiny television that sits on the floor across from me. It gets three channels and I stopped watching it when the news came on, showing a picture of me and Cole last Christmas. The reporter said the authorities were losing hope in the search for my body, as if they a.s.sumed I was dead. After that, I decided that I'd rather not know when they were calling off the search. It's not like they would ever find me here anyway. Not that I know where I am, but I know it's not easy to find. That much is obvious from all of the illegal drug activity going on right outside this door.

I shrug before placing the tray on my lap. "Guess not."

I can feel Dean watching me as I eat and my chewing begins to slow. I put my fork town and wipe my clammy hand over my sweats, my eyes searching the eggs and eyeing the orange juice.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his face scrunched in confusion when I look at him.

"Why are you looking at me?" I ask, irritated.

His eyes widen, registering my insinuation. "You think I put something in your food?" he asks incredulously.

"You say that like it's impossible," I scoff with an eye roll.

His scowl deepens and he shakes his head slowly. "I can't believe you still don't trust me."

My jaw unhinges. "I can't believe you expect me to!"

He draws an O with his lips as he lets out a slow breath. "I guess I can't, but I would never put something in your food."

"So why are you staring at me?" I ask, picking up my fork to play with the eggs that I so badly want to finish eating.

The side of his mouth turns upward. "Just trying to figure something out."

I inhale and exhale a breath before I continue eating. I groan when I find that he's still staring at me.