Chapter 4

Prisoners Build-4-0-9

Finally, it was the weekend. I sat on my cough with various pouches for my hair. A brush on the left, my wide-tooth comb on my right, my comb used got separating in the middle, and of course, you can never forget your wrap.

My sweatpants hugged my legs, a short top covering my chest.

I was just about to open my Olive shampoo when my phone rings. Groaning, I tap accept with my pinky finger to a number that I was familiar with.

"Hello?" I proceed, starting with my roots.

"Ocean." Only one person calls me by my first name.

"Oh hey, Trevor." I squeak.

Gosh girl, calm yourself.

"What're you doing right now?" He asks, his voice silk and I sigh inwardly.

"I'm just... washing my hair. You?"

"About to ask this beautiful woman out to lunch." I freeze.

"U-uh, I-"

"1:00?"

"I have a boyfriend." I blurt and he snorts. I shut my eyes tightly from embarrassment.

"I know Ocean, but just as friends. . . . just because you're not my therapist anymore doesn't mean we should just stop hanging out. . . I actually like your company." By this time my throat had clogged. Tears fill my eyes as I remember the last time I tried to make a friend.

When will my life be normal?

"I . . . I have to clean... we can take a rain check?" I ask, long forgetting about my hair. My eyes dripping with tears and I hear the small exhale.

"Sure, just call me whenever."

He hangs up and I angrily grab the conditioner deciding that my hair can miss one week of deep conditioning.

I slam my bathroom door, undressing, and getting into the shower.

"Honey. . . .I don't trust that boy." The lady with auburn hair states as she looks behind me and I sigh.

"Mom, he's had a rough path.  . . but... I think I might love him." Her eyes widen, as they shoot back to him.

"Ocean—"

"Don't wait up."

"Ocean Devila, get back here right now!" My dad's voice booms but I keep walking.

Why did I keep walking?

Why can't we just listen to our parents and understand that darkness lurks in even the seemingly brightest persons

Halfway through my shower, I realized that I forgot my wide-tooth comb.

I really can't do anything with this mop so I grab my towel and run into the living room, absolutely wet.

My knob twists just as I was about to leave and I freeze.

Please don't be Dain... please.

"Open the door!" He screams and I close my eyes.

Why, why, why!

This time I make the worst decision, and I slowly use the key to lock the other part cautious not to make any noises.

"I know you're in there! I can hear the shower. Open the door before I break it down!" He roars and I quickly retreat to my room,  looking around for anything that could help if he ever gets in, I find an old baseball bat my roommate left for me before Dain became too much for her.

My apartment was two bedrooms, one a master and the other one which was mine a simple pastel-colored one.

I avoided roommates, but my landlord always seemed to find one, saying it would be good for me. But it really wasn't good for them. Dain was toxic.

"Please, please, please." I murmur under my breath, hoping that the banging stop and for the first time it did. I stayed silent until I could hear his unsure footsteps on the gravel before letting out a sigh, and slowly crawling back into the shower.

I lean on the wall, slower sliding until my but met with the cool surface.

"It was only a matter of time. .  ." I close my eyes.

Only a matter of time before he killed me.

× × ×

Trevor's POV

"Mr. Garcia, I'm going to need some of my men."

"Ah, Mr. Vatore, but you just got out of jail." He Snickers and my jaw ticks. "This whole deal was for you to not come back into the mafia."

"What I do, is not to be questioned, involved or not, you know the type of man I am. Now I have things to do, and places to be. Get me Robert, Trent, and Leo."  I hang up quickly, slapping a hundred dollar bill onto the table before leaving.

Ocean.

She consumed my mind the night  I laid on the prison 'beds', she was so beautiful. Her hair unruly, her smile wide and genuine, but her eyes. It lacked a glow that I know could be there. That's when I first realized something was wrong. Then she came the next day with bruises that the outside world wouldn't even notice, but observation is what I was known for.

Why do men feel so superior to women that they lay hands on them?

This will be the last time Dain White ever puts his hand on a woman.

I promise you that.

#

"The tattoo parlor is coming up well sir, by next week we'll be able to open." I nod at the good news, staring at the men at work.

"We should start hiring people, what're we looking for?"

"Target young men with art to show. Don't let the age be too high, a lot of this generation needs jobs." The women around me were making me uncomfortable.

Normally, their stares wouldn't bother me, but it seemed like everyone's eyes were on me.

Sighing in exasperation I turn and look at then.

"Can I help you?" I grit out and they all turn like they weren't looking. I roll my eyes.

The only eyes I'd like on me was the light brown ones that all seemed to be innocent.

Soon my little flower. Soon.