his mouth as he blows out the cloud of smoke. He hollows his cheeks as he takes another inhale, then grabs the orange butt between his fingers and drops his arm to his side.
A wild stampede thumps in my heart as he stares at me. I stay silent, like I usually do, and tilt my head down in submission. I peer up, staring through my lashes, and his brown eyes, so familiar to mine, narrow.
“What took you so damn long?” he asks as he readjusts the sparkling blue bra he is wearing over his flat pecs. His fake nails rake across his stomach and dip into his belly button, and that’s when I notice the matching panties. His legs are covered in fishnet stockings, and his feet are bare, toes polished red to match his nails.
“Sorry, Uncle—”
He backhands me, and the flow of blood drips over my tongue, making its way to the back of my throat. Uncle Jeremy wraps a hand around my throat and slams me against the wall. My ears ring, and my skull explodes with sharp pain.
“What did I tell you? When I’m getting ready, you call me Justine. God, you’re stupid. So, fucking dumb. Nothing can get through that head, can it? Is it just air in there?” He knocks his knuckles against my temple. “Hello? Is someone there besides a fucking idiot?” Uncle Jer—Justine places his cigarette in his mouth, sucks in, then blows the rotten fog in my face. “You remember what happened last time you called me by the wrong name, right?”
I nod, remembering very vividly. It took my tongue weeks to heal from the cigarette burns. The cigarettes would sizzle until the ember was out, and he’d light another and start the process all over again.
“Speak!” he yells.
“I’m … I’m … sorry, Justine. I’ll … I’ll try hard … hard … er,” I struggle to say.
“Well, try harder!” He slams a fist against the wall to the right side of my head, adding another dent. Applying pressure to his grip, he keeps his hand tight around my neck and slings me into his bedroom.
I gasp and lose my footing, hitting the edge of the bed. I bounce off and hit the new hardwood floors Jeremy had installed. He has all the upgrades. His bedroom is another world, another type of house. It’s hard to believe something so fancy is in this home. There is a chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, a round bed that vibrates, a closet bigger than my room, and he has a walk-in master bathroom. Everything is marble.
And everything reeks of smoke.
“Now, sit on the bed. I have some new outfits I bought, and I want to wear one of them tonight.”
I scurry onto the bed and grab one of the purple shag pillows. It’s soft. It’s comforting, and it gives me something to focus on and hold onto while I’m being forced to watch him change.
He shucks off his robe and tosses the silk onto the floor, then he struts into his closet. I turn my head when I notice he’s wearing a thong. My stomach turns in discomfort. Sometimes he makes me wear that exact same one.
“Okay, so I bought this beautiful Chanel dress. It’s black with a red neckline that dips down. I need an opinion. What do you think?” His voice is distant for a second, lost in the darkest depth of the closet before he steps out and holds the dress against his body. “So? Yes, no?”
I shake my head. “I… I don’t like it. I don’t th-think it does anything for your … your … fig-figure.” Something I’ve learned Justine appreciates. Uncle Jer … Justine doesn’t talk about his body, but when he’s in Justine mode, the figure is all that matters.
He holds the dress out in front of him and analyzes it, pursing his lips. If I’m wrong, I’m in trouble.
If I’m not…
I can go to bed without having to cry myself to sleep.
“You’re right. I knew you were good for something.” He tosses the dress down hatefully and spins around on his foot to disappear into the closet.
I rub my cheek against the pillow and sigh, wishing I had the comforting touch from someone. Not a hateful touch, not one that hurts, just one that is warm, like a mother’s touch.
I miss my mom. I wonder what she was like. Was she pretty? Kind? Did she sing lullabies to get me to sleep? Did my dad try to